Y-O, Day 1
Looks like I was right, and this will have to be one entry per day. I'll put it behind cuts so my friend's lists wont be completely raped.
This is a day in the life of a Caribbean cruise.
Sunday morning hurts. We all get up when Moosifer calls our room continuously for 15 minutes. I wake up staring into my cousin Merri's face. Apparently even though I went out of my way to get a cot, she decided to creep halfway off her bed onto my cot in the middle of the night. Mighty nice of her to scare the crap out of me like that, really. We get up, shower, start to get ready, and to find our cousin Paulie and his girlfriend Stephanie.
Paulie and Stephanie flew in the day before like we did. They were supposed to be in the same hotel as the Shapiros, which was the other Hilton across town. However when Moosifer came to town, she had her way and the Shapiros ended up in our hotel. Which left Paulie and Stephanie to fend for themselves since their flight didn't land until almost 11pm on Saturday. We tried calling them from Merri's phone, which was the only one with service. However, Train in his infinite wisdom didn't leave her number when he left a voicemail, so Paulie couldn't call us back. Poor Paulie. We finally got in touch with them, and the Englands, through their hotels. Paulie and Steph met us for breakfast at some dumpy little restaurant, and then we went back to the room to pack.
This is when the bad news starts.
We come back to find Matt flipping out. Apparently in his drunken stupor the night before, he whipped out his cash at the bar, which was wrapped around his license and bank card. The bank card survived, the license didn't. Now there's a Puerto Rican that goes by the name of Matt trying to sneak back into the country. We tear apart the hotel, the casino, the executive lounge, nothing. It has to be at the Beach Bum. Which just closed at 10am, not to open again until 8pm. Well after our ship leaves.
Lulu gets in touch with her sister at home to get a copy of Matt's old license faxed down to him, so he has something. He still has his birth certificate with him, since you need that or a passport to get onto the ship. That, combined with an affadavit signed by both his parents should be good enough. At least, that's what American Airlines and Royal Caribbean are telling us. Only one way to find out.
We pack up everything and make the trek downstairs. 5 elevator rides later, all 18 pieces of luggage are downstairs. Kristy is of course flipping out that someone has stolen her bag, when it's just sitting behind someone else's bag. She's very quick to flip. Load all the baggage into two more van cabs and take off for the docks.
Through downtown San Juan for a while, we finally get to the docks. I see a cruise ship in the distance and start to get excited. My cousin sees me and says "What, that? Yeah right. That's our lifeboat. You'll see ours once we pass these buildings." So we pass the buildings. And he's right. The boat I saw was probably 5-6 decks. Ours falls into the 16 deck category, tipping the scale at 200,000 tons. It looks like a skyscraper that fell on it's side, with motors on the back. I instantly have to change my shorts.
We unload everyone, myself, the Lanes, the Shapiros, Paulie and Steph, and we find the Englands waiting for us. I've never met them before, so I go introduce myself. "Hey, I heard you're England. I'm Adam." Apparently they love me immediately. This is when we find out more bad news. England's bags are all missing. Their flight was from Heathrow in London to JFK in NY, then a continuation from JFK straight to San Juan. Somehow their baggage ends up in San Diego. So they have nothing to wear, aside from the clothes they already have on. Bastards.
The rest of us wait on line, because you have to check in your big bags. Mine were all small enough that I could carry them on, so I do. Then you pass through the metal detectors and wait on another line, this one to get your Seapass card, which is basically your entire life onboard the ship. It's your room key, your credit card, your ID. We get on line to get our Seapasses, and of course, problems. We get the strictest, oldest lady available and she forces Barry and Lulu through hoops to get Matt onto the boat. While waiting, Zach and I meet a girl who he "wants to have his children." OK, teriffic. Beautiful blonde, big boobs, big ass, the works. Zach follows her around like a puppy, until we have to board.
We get on line, take our ID pictures and ride the escalators up. Boarding is on deck 4, so there's 4 flights to walk up. Finally get all the way up and they want to take an Embarcation picture. Screw that, we need beers. We pass all that, run onto the ship and find everyone upstairs cheering for us from their balconies.
We have arrived.
We unpack slightly, all of us at the same time, and decide what better way to kick off the cruise than some beers in the hottub. Everyone gets dressed, heads upstairs. In the process, I lose everyone but Jesse, so we wander around the ship together. He's pointing out the stuff I'd never seen before, the gym, the track, game room, Johnny Rockets (aka Bozo Crocketts). We wander for a little while longer then head upstairs and find everyone in the hottub. We cram a few more of our party in, and the extra people who were there leave. Talk about a premonition.
It had been on and off raining for the whole last day, apparently that's PR weather. So while we're in the hottub it drizzles on and off for 20 minutes or so. No biggie, I'm in a hottub, but everyone else is running around like crazy. It was nice.
Me, Train and Matt decide to check out the hottubs in the Solarium, the indoor hottubs. Head in and there's a few people, no one really noteworthy, so we take that hottub. We're chillin, throwin ice from the beer buckets at each other, the usual. In walks two blondes. One, really hot, nice body, nice everything. One, eh. Chubby, but still cute. They join us in the hot tub, along with both of their mothers. I start small talking with the chubby one, since she's sitting next to me. I come to find out 2 things: They're both from Jersey, and they're both dumber than a sack of doorknobs. This bodes well. I convince the chubby one that if she hits the button on the side of the hottub, right where she's leaning, that the water will get sucked out of the pool from the bottom, and if she's not careful, she'll get sucked in with it. She proceeds to move 5 feet to her right, to stay away from it. In reality, those buttons control the jets and the bubbles. This is gonna be good. I get their names, Jamie (the hot one) and Heather (chubby one). We BS for a little while longer, then realize we have to go. We invite them back later, and tell them we'll be at the Jester all night.
Finish up with the hot tubbing, and we find out moostering is at 5:30pm, right before dinner. For those that don't know "mustering" is the process of putting on your life jacket and getting the hell off the boat. In actuality, it just means a gathering, but it's close enough. This is also where Moosifer gets her name from. Last years moostering was apparently a rage of emotion for her, so bad that her nickname was created as a combination of mooster and Lucifer. Hence, Moosifer.
So they blow the alarms off at 5:30pm, and once again Moosifer is raging that we all have to go. If you dont, they call your name over the PA system and make the entire boat wait for you. Apparently it's quite embarassing, to those people who have shame. Of which none my party belong to that group of people. Kristy was late going down because she was showering from the hottub. They called her name 3 times over the PA and when she finally showed up, some 75 year old man started making comments about how it was her fault they had to wait, she held everyone up, etc. Kristy can be quite a bitch when she wants to be, and she let the man know exactly what she thought of him, and his old wrinkly ass. Not too shabby.
Moostering is over, back to the rooms. We unpack for an hour or so, then our dinner is up for 8:30pm. We have the second seating. Everyone gets "dressed". Which means no shorts, have to have sleeves, and no sandals. Basically jeans, polo shirts and sneakers at the lowest level. Fine by me. I forget what the entrees were, but it was damn good. I'm pretty sure I had some sort of steak, some sort of chicken, a salad, etc. I think my personal record was 4 entrees one night, but Zach, being the former fat kid in the group, packed down 9 one night, lobster night. I can't hold a candle to that.
At dinner we finally find Jen and Jeremy from New Jersey, Merri's friends. Jeremy proceeds to tell us about the 3/4 bottle of Maker's Mark that he drank. On the rocks. In the 2 hours since they've been on the ship. Ouchtown dude, population: you. Jen fills us in on their luggage fiasco. They have none. Theirs never left Philly, and they dont know when it will. If it doesn't get to PR by 10pm when the boat officially leaves the harbor, they can't get their clothes until Tuesday when we land in Aruba. Apparently all they have is their carry-ons, which were bathing suits and 2 one liter bottles of Makers. At least they packed smart.
We also meet Craig at dinner. Craig is 19, a freshman at Hofstra, and the son of a guy that works with Big Tom. Apparently he had a lousy first day in PR, since it was just him and his 12 year old brother. Sucks for him. Moosifer comes over during dinner, talks to me and Merri. "Can you guys take him out tonight? He had such a crappy day, and I really want him to have a good time on the cruise." Well hell, good time is our middle name. We adopt Craig, tell him to meet us at the Jester later.
Dinner finishes, and we all head back to the rooms to change, it's night life time. There's one club on the ship that's "adults only," which means 18+. When we first found it, me, Jesse and Zach were walking by, and when we tried to walk in, the guy said that we couldn't, it was 25+, and it was a titty bar. I instantly said i was 25 and started walking in, while Jesse and Zach were stunned. They couldn't see the boobs. Then the bouncer laughed his ass off and told them he was kidding. The looks on their faces = priceless.
So we head into Jesters. Another problem. They want ID. Jesse tries to walk in wearing a wifebeater and shorts, and the Mexican at the door stops him. Jesse gets heated, starts cursing. Now we ALL have to get ID. Douchebag Mexican't. We all go get ID, and the guy gives Jesse a dirty look before letting him in. Jesse is pissed.
Now we're in Jesters. You walk in on the top floor, there's a small bar, a couple tables, and a set of stairs down. Downstairs there is a big lounge area to the right, padded walls with seats and tables built in, more tables and chairs in the middle, a bar to the back and a dance floor to the left. We head to the right, take over a whole section of the lounge. We order more buckets, as my bar bill is in the ignition stage to heights that Apollo 13 only wished it could reach. Craig shows up eventually. We hang out and meet people. Lots of them.
Hour or two later and we're all drunk enough to head to the dance floor. On the way I spot Jamie and Heather, so I stop to talk to them while the rest go dance. I leave them at the bar later and head out there myself, now inebriated and happier. Now, more bad things start.
Apparently, there's a new rule this year, on all Royal Caribbean cruises. This rule is "No drinking on the dance floor." When you think about it, it's a pretty crappy rule. Guys are supposed to have one hand on their drink, and one on their girl's hips. That's just how it's done. This rule, we believe, was created solely because of Merri, last year. Apparently she dropped at least 3 glasses on the floor each night, which caused much, much pain to the people wearing sandals. Sigh. So of course, we all pile on with our beers and drinks. 30 seconds later, the earlier Mexican't shows up, and starts yelling at Jesse about his beer. Problem is, Jesse is in the middle of a crowd of all of us, all with beer. So the guy definately singled Jesse out. Jesse gets pissed again, and demands the guy's name. Jose something-or-other. Jesse being wise writes this name on his forearm so he'll see it later. Smart guy.
We leave our drinks on the tables and go back out on the dance floor. Zach picks up a body in the corner of the floor. Pretty tall, huge boobs, nice ass. We applaud him. Then she comes and sits with us. Ms. Butta. Face, goes by the name of Danielle. Shame too. He's happy though, he's gonna get his winky wet. That's another problem. Zach has a gf. For 2 years. Oops. They're dancing more, and it turns out she has a cousin, Christie. They're both 19. And they both live in Port Jeff, 10 minutes from Zach's house. Can you smell the trouble yet?
Now Jesse comes over, and Christie wants him. Here comes the last piece of trouble for the night. Jesse dives right in, since he's Jesse. Now there's no way Zach can escape Danielle as a one night stand, because Christie is going to follow Jesse everywhere. We're still waiting for this to blow up, but when it does, it'll be a good one.
There's plenty more dancing, drinking, yelling. We take over the booths right next to the dance floor since we're tired of walking away to drink. Craig stumbles over to me as the night progresses. He's drunk as a skunk, and been dancing with Merri all night. He's 19 and wants anything with boobs, she's 26 and loves the attention of younger mens. He grabs my shoulder and says "Dude. You guys rock. This has been the best night out I've had in like 2 years. I can't wait for the rest of the cruise. This is so awesome." and so on and so forth. C'mon kid. you're preaching to the choir. We know we rock.
3am rolls around, people start to pile out after last call. We order another bucket each, of course. Jamie and Heather leave, and we all pile into the hottub upstairs. Much fun is had. There are drunken gropings and evil doings. And by evil doings, I mean that Craig and Merri disappear an hour later. No one can find them until Jesse goes back to his room and accidentally walks into the two of them making out, the notion further strengthened when Craig jumps back and goes "Woahhhh, wow." Yes ma'am, I swear he's over 18. The best part was that the next morning, Merri has no idea any of this happened. She actually asks why her hair is so wet, since she doesn't remember going in the hottub. Wow.
Alas, at the end of the night, I went home alone.
Thankfully, it was only the first night.
This is a day in the life of a Caribbean cruise.
Sunday morning hurts. We all get up when Moosifer calls our room continuously for 15 minutes. I wake up staring into my cousin Merri's face. Apparently even though I went out of my way to get a cot, she decided to creep halfway off her bed onto my cot in the middle of the night. Mighty nice of her to scare the crap out of me like that, really. We get up, shower, start to get ready, and to find our cousin Paulie and his girlfriend Stephanie.
Paulie and Stephanie flew in the day before like we did. They were supposed to be in the same hotel as the Shapiros, which was the other Hilton across town. However when Moosifer came to town, she had her way and the Shapiros ended up in our hotel. Which left Paulie and Stephanie to fend for themselves since their flight didn't land until almost 11pm on Saturday. We tried calling them from Merri's phone, which was the only one with service. However, Train in his infinite wisdom didn't leave her number when he left a voicemail, so Paulie couldn't call us back. Poor Paulie. We finally got in touch with them, and the Englands, through their hotels. Paulie and Steph met us for breakfast at some dumpy little restaurant, and then we went back to the room to pack.
This is when the bad news starts.
We come back to find Matt flipping out. Apparently in his drunken stupor the night before, he whipped out his cash at the bar, which was wrapped around his license and bank card. The bank card survived, the license didn't. Now there's a Puerto Rican that goes by the name of Matt trying to sneak back into the country. We tear apart the hotel, the casino, the executive lounge, nothing. It has to be at the Beach Bum. Which just closed at 10am, not to open again until 8pm. Well after our ship leaves.
Lulu gets in touch with her sister at home to get a copy of Matt's old license faxed down to him, so he has something. He still has his birth certificate with him, since you need that or a passport to get onto the ship. That, combined with an affadavit signed by both his parents should be good enough. At least, that's what American Airlines and Royal Caribbean are telling us. Only one way to find out.
We pack up everything and make the trek downstairs. 5 elevator rides later, all 18 pieces of luggage are downstairs. Kristy is of course flipping out that someone has stolen her bag, when it's just sitting behind someone else's bag. She's very quick to flip. Load all the baggage into two more van cabs and take off for the docks.
Through downtown San Juan for a while, we finally get to the docks. I see a cruise ship in the distance and start to get excited. My cousin sees me and says "What, that? Yeah right. That's our lifeboat. You'll see ours once we pass these buildings." So we pass the buildings. And he's right. The boat I saw was probably 5-6 decks. Ours falls into the 16 deck category, tipping the scale at 200,000 tons. It looks like a skyscraper that fell on it's side, with motors on the back. I instantly have to change my shorts.
We unload everyone, myself, the Lanes, the Shapiros, Paulie and Steph, and we find the Englands waiting for us. I've never met them before, so I go introduce myself. "Hey, I heard you're England. I'm Adam." Apparently they love me immediately. This is when we find out more bad news. England's bags are all missing. Their flight was from Heathrow in London to JFK in NY, then a continuation from JFK straight to San Juan. Somehow their baggage ends up in San Diego. So they have nothing to wear, aside from the clothes they already have on. Bastards.
The rest of us wait on line, because you have to check in your big bags. Mine were all small enough that I could carry them on, so I do. Then you pass through the metal detectors and wait on another line, this one to get your Seapass card, which is basically your entire life onboard the ship. It's your room key, your credit card, your ID. We get on line to get our Seapasses, and of course, problems. We get the strictest, oldest lady available and she forces Barry and Lulu through hoops to get Matt onto the boat. While waiting, Zach and I meet a girl who he "wants to have his children." OK, teriffic. Beautiful blonde, big boobs, big ass, the works. Zach follows her around like a puppy, until we have to board.
We get on line, take our ID pictures and ride the escalators up. Boarding is on deck 4, so there's 4 flights to walk up. Finally get all the way up and they want to take an Embarcation picture. Screw that, we need beers. We pass all that, run onto the ship and find everyone upstairs cheering for us from their balconies.
We have arrived.
We unpack slightly, all of us at the same time, and decide what better way to kick off the cruise than some beers in the hottub. Everyone gets dressed, heads upstairs. In the process, I lose everyone but Jesse, so we wander around the ship together. He's pointing out the stuff I'd never seen before, the gym, the track, game room, Johnny Rockets (aka Bozo Crocketts). We wander for a little while longer then head upstairs and find everyone in the hottub. We cram a few more of our party in, and the extra people who were there leave. Talk about a premonition.
It had been on and off raining for the whole last day, apparently that's PR weather. So while we're in the hottub it drizzles on and off for 20 minutes or so. No biggie, I'm in a hottub, but everyone else is running around like crazy. It was nice.
Me, Train and Matt decide to check out the hottubs in the Solarium, the indoor hottubs. Head in and there's a few people, no one really noteworthy, so we take that hottub. We're chillin, throwin ice from the beer buckets at each other, the usual. In walks two blondes. One, really hot, nice body, nice everything. One, eh. Chubby, but still cute. They join us in the hot tub, along with both of their mothers. I start small talking with the chubby one, since she's sitting next to me. I come to find out 2 things: They're both from Jersey, and they're both dumber than a sack of doorknobs. This bodes well. I convince the chubby one that if she hits the button on the side of the hottub, right where she's leaning, that the water will get sucked out of the pool from the bottom, and if she's not careful, she'll get sucked in with it. She proceeds to move 5 feet to her right, to stay away from it. In reality, those buttons control the jets and the bubbles. This is gonna be good. I get their names, Jamie (the hot one) and Heather (chubby one). We BS for a little while longer, then realize we have to go. We invite them back later, and tell them we'll be at the Jester all night.
Finish up with the hot tubbing, and we find out moostering is at 5:30pm, right before dinner. For those that don't know "mustering" is the process of putting on your life jacket and getting the hell off the boat. In actuality, it just means a gathering, but it's close enough. This is also where Moosifer gets her name from. Last years moostering was apparently a rage of emotion for her, so bad that her nickname was created as a combination of mooster and Lucifer. Hence, Moosifer.
So they blow the alarms off at 5:30pm, and once again Moosifer is raging that we all have to go. If you dont, they call your name over the PA system and make the entire boat wait for you. Apparently it's quite embarassing, to those people who have shame. Of which none my party belong to that group of people. Kristy was late going down because she was showering from the hottub. They called her name 3 times over the PA and when she finally showed up, some 75 year old man started making comments about how it was her fault they had to wait, she held everyone up, etc. Kristy can be quite a bitch when she wants to be, and she let the man know exactly what she thought of him, and his old wrinkly ass. Not too shabby.
Moostering is over, back to the rooms. We unpack for an hour or so, then our dinner is up for 8:30pm. We have the second seating. Everyone gets "dressed". Which means no shorts, have to have sleeves, and no sandals. Basically jeans, polo shirts and sneakers at the lowest level. Fine by me. I forget what the entrees were, but it was damn good. I'm pretty sure I had some sort of steak, some sort of chicken, a salad, etc. I think my personal record was 4 entrees one night, but Zach, being the former fat kid in the group, packed down 9 one night, lobster night. I can't hold a candle to that.
At dinner we finally find Jen and Jeremy from New Jersey, Merri's friends. Jeremy proceeds to tell us about the 3/4 bottle of Maker's Mark that he drank. On the rocks. In the 2 hours since they've been on the ship. Ouchtown dude, population: you. Jen fills us in on their luggage fiasco. They have none. Theirs never left Philly, and they dont know when it will. If it doesn't get to PR by 10pm when the boat officially leaves the harbor, they can't get their clothes until Tuesday when we land in Aruba. Apparently all they have is their carry-ons, which were bathing suits and 2 one liter bottles of Makers. At least they packed smart.
We also meet Craig at dinner. Craig is 19, a freshman at Hofstra, and the son of a guy that works with Big Tom. Apparently he had a lousy first day in PR, since it was just him and his 12 year old brother. Sucks for him. Moosifer comes over during dinner, talks to me and Merri. "Can you guys take him out tonight? He had such a crappy day, and I really want him to have a good time on the cruise." Well hell, good time is our middle name. We adopt Craig, tell him to meet us at the Jester later.
Dinner finishes, and we all head back to the rooms to change, it's night life time. There's one club on the ship that's "adults only," which means 18+. When we first found it, me, Jesse and Zach were walking by, and when we tried to walk in, the guy said that we couldn't, it was 25+, and it was a titty bar. I instantly said i was 25 and started walking in, while Jesse and Zach were stunned. They couldn't see the boobs. Then the bouncer laughed his ass off and told them he was kidding. The looks on their faces = priceless.
So we head into Jesters. Another problem. They want ID. Jesse tries to walk in wearing a wifebeater and shorts, and the Mexican at the door stops him. Jesse gets heated, starts cursing. Now we ALL have to get ID. Douchebag Mexican't. We all go get ID, and the guy gives Jesse a dirty look before letting him in. Jesse is pissed.
Now we're in Jesters. You walk in on the top floor, there's a small bar, a couple tables, and a set of stairs down. Downstairs there is a big lounge area to the right, padded walls with seats and tables built in, more tables and chairs in the middle, a bar to the back and a dance floor to the left. We head to the right, take over a whole section of the lounge. We order more buckets, as my bar bill is in the ignition stage to heights that Apollo 13 only wished it could reach. Craig shows up eventually. We hang out and meet people. Lots of them.
Hour or two later and we're all drunk enough to head to the dance floor. On the way I spot Jamie and Heather, so I stop to talk to them while the rest go dance. I leave them at the bar later and head out there myself, now inebriated and happier. Now, more bad things start.
Apparently, there's a new rule this year, on all Royal Caribbean cruises. This rule is "No drinking on the dance floor." When you think about it, it's a pretty crappy rule. Guys are supposed to have one hand on their drink, and one on their girl's hips. That's just how it's done. This rule, we believe, was created solely because of Merri, last year. Apparently she dropped at least 3 glasses on the floor each night, which caused much, much pain to the people wearing sandals. Sigh. So of course, we all pile on with our beers and drinks. 30 seconds later, the earlier Mexican't shows up, and starts yelling at Jesse about his beer. Problem is, Jesse is in the middle of a crowd of all of us, all with beer. So the guy definately singled Jesse out. Jesse gets pissed again, and demands the guy's name. Jose something-or-other. Jesse being wise writes this name on his forearm so he'll see it later. Smart guy.
We leave our drinks on the tables and go back out on the dance floor. Zach picks up a body in the corner of the floor. Pretty tall, huge boobs, nice ass. We applaud him. Then she comes and sits with us. Ms. Butta. Face, goes by the name of Danielle. Shame too. He's happy though, he's gonna get his winky wet. That's another problem. Zach has a gf. For 2 years. Oops. They're dancing more, and it turns out she has a cousin, Christie. They're both 19. And they both live in Port Jeff, 10 minutes from Zach's house. Can you smell the trouble yet?
Now Jesse comes over, and Christie wants him. Here comes the last piece of trouble for the night. Jesse dives right in, since he's Jesse. Now there's no way Zach can escape Danielle as a one night stand, because Christie is going to follow Jesse everywhere. We're still waiting for this to blow up, but when it does, it'll be a good one.
There's plenty more dancing, drinking, yelling. We take over the booths right next to the dance floor since we're tired of walking away to drink. Craig stumbles over to me as the night progresses. He's drunk as a skunk, and been dancing with Merri all night. He's 19 and wants anything with boobs, she's 26 and loves the attention of younger mens. He grabs my shoulder and says "Dude. You guys rock. This has been the best night out I've had in like 2 years. I can't wait for the rest of the cruise. This is so awesome." and so on and so forth. C'mon kid. you're preaching to the choir. We know we rock.
3am rolls around, people start to pile out after last call. We order another bucket each, of course. Jamie and Heather leave, and we all pile into the hottub upstairs. Much fun is had. There are drunken gropings and evil doings. And by evil doings, I mean that Craig and Merri disappear an hour later. No one can find them until Jesse goes back to his room and accidentally walks into the two of them making out, the notion further strengthened when Craig jumps back and goes "Woahhhh, wow." Yes ma'am, I swear he's over 18. The best part was that the next morning, Merri has no idea any of this happened. She actually asks why her hair is so wet, since she doesn't remember going in the hottub. Wow.
Alas, at the end of the night, I went home alone.
Thankfully, it was only the first night.