Cruising With Class

I was out and about playing in traffic on the Information Superhighway, when I came across this article about a new ship for Norwegian Cruise Lines. I was little intrigued, mostly appalled, and a bit hungry, because it was late night snack time (11:02 to 11:14 pm), also known as the evening elevenses, to differentiate it from the morning elevenses, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, six thousand people on the same ship? My god, the lines for the buffets must be positively biblical. I’m not quite sure I’m using biblical in exactly the right context, but I think it fits even so.

While paging through the website for the NCL Epic (which you have to admit, is a pretty appropriate name, considering what the buffet lines must look like), I also found that they have an area, called the Haven, where the people with solid gold bank accounts can congregate far from the madding crowds. Said congregation is unlikely to be concerned with plotting to take over the world, because they’ve already done that. Looking at the rooms in the Haven (Where You Never Have To Worry About The Commoners!), I discovered that along with the oppression of the working classes, they also have round beds. Wow! Says my thirteen-year-old self, who is likely to pop back into being at the drop of a hat.

What?!? Why is the espresso maker at the foot of the bed? It should be on the night stand, just like I have it at home!

Back in the day, when I actually was thirteen years old, rather than just acting like it all the time, as I do now, I thought round beds were pretty awesome. In those simpler and more carefree times, guys in the movies that had a round bed were usually some sort of suave superspy type. At least I thought the superspy guy was suave. Looking back at it now, it’s just incredibly tacky, and I imagine it was then too, I just didn’t know it. What can I say – I was thirteen!

So now my thirteen-year-old self is unleashed, and he wants to go sail on Norwegian so he can sleep in a round bed. Because, round bed = cool. I may have to talk Mary into a cruise sometime, preferably soon, because living with my thirteen year old self is a real pain. He’s eaten all the snack food, drunk all the soda in the house, and he sleeps till noon. And let’s not even get into the constant backtalk and snarkiness. Even I will admit he’s pretty annoying, and he’s me.

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