1. Sailing Away – A Supposedly Fun Thing Revisted.

In 1996, Harper’s Magazine published a now famous or infamous essay by David Foster Wallace called “Sailing Away: On the Near Fatal Pleasures of a Luxury Cruise” which he reincorporated int his books as A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again. It is a witty, funny and honest look at his experiences aboard what was then a megaship, the m.v. Zenith of the Celebrity line. The Zenith is now considered small at less than 50,000 tons. Tomorrow I board the Royal Carribean Cruise Lines vessel, Granduer of the Seas – a mid range, mid cost luxury cruiser that weighs in at 92,000 plus tons of enforced decadent and decidely American fun. I am already having some of that fun.  I aat our “home” airport, actually quite a drive away from home, some seventy miles, sitting gaurd over the bags as Steve goes off for the first of many food forages. Steve is a food hound. Last trip I only got food emails from him, even if he was somewhere cool – it was never today I saw. it was today I ate…

Anyway, the adventure begins…

I started in our driveway this morning with 4″ of snow on the ground and will probably close with same according to current long term forecast! It’s been a good day so far. Nice checkin people, Steve ecstatic just not to be working and my psychic vibe pretty good. Interesting to watch all the people checking in. Average of three large bags and a carry on, bluetooth devices – laptop, pda, phone, iPhones, MP3, even one badass iPad. Entertainment culture indeed, one lady here challenged a checkin guy for daring to inturrupt her with a checkin when she was in the middle of an important cell phone call. Easy to tell too who is off on a vacation, who is a seasoned business traveler, and who is an American. I am also struck by the difference in passenger composition since I last flew (say 1991 or so). I am seeing a lot more single females, and a lot less just white people. Mixed couples actually predominate here at GSP and most of them are younger. When last I traveled it was well to do WASP baby boomers. And there is a lot more small tech in evidence. Me, I can’t wait for a direct neural shunt. Jack in, and go gargoyle, online 24/7/365. The primary difference between me and the rest of this herd is that I can talk and walk at the same time. And already the stupidity begins – a guy at the Delta desk asks if this is the Delta desk despite the huge corperate logo, a woman asks why she must chech her VW sized bag, The kinesiologies are interesting too – from macro to micro gestures. I find it deeply interesting that people keep a better eye on their luggage than on their children – usually a hand, foot, toe, or some peripheral contact to the bag, and the kid is 600 feet down the concourse kicking someone else’s bag. A very sick or sad woman with her hand pressed to her side, a kid staring at everything, a woman who is all but pushing an elderly lady in front of her, tapping her foot, sighing, checking her watch, flashing her papers and expensive briefcase in a subliminal semaphore of her perceived importance. And there goes someones small toddler. Really little guy, maybe a year and a half – here comes mom. She looks harried, tired, and even a bit angry. Hmm, opera goer. Wearing a Georgia State opera tee under a business casual shirt with a tasteful gold willow leaf lapel pin. Lady of the species, mid-forties with a high shine on her shoes. The tee is a bit weird unless she is a singer or board typr promoing something nearby. Have to look that up. Uh-oh, tourist for sure, large woman, rubanesque to be kind, wearing a shirt that reads “I go from 0 to horney in 2.5 beers.” The shirt is flourescent green, the pants orange, too tight and complete with thong line. A preview of things to come and one of the reasons I speak a good deal more Spanish south of the border. American, who me? [sigh] Grody to use an older term.

Stage 2: On the plane and at the hotel:

 Is this Tampa? As in Tampa, Florida? I guess so as it’s where the plane landed. The weather here is 47 degrees farhenheit and raining and I am trapped in an elderly and careworn HoJo with a busted TV and no books cause Steve was worried about the packing weights – may the flies of a thousand camels infest his armpits. Thank god for wifi and the internet and that I stuck to my guns about the laptop. If not for the wet and abused palm tree outside our grungy window, I could still be in SC waiting on the plane.

To prove that the world is a small and perverse place the woman on the plane in the aisle seat was from less than five miles from our house. She is seeking a teaching gig in Clearwater where (theoretically) there is less freaking snow and stupidity. She might read this someday, if so, yes, you were a very nice lady. Other behaviors on the plane involved cheap romance novels, or poorly folded newspapers, or open mouthed snoring. There was also the option of a cheap romance novel and an alcoholic beverage. Talk about a recipe for nausea. Ach, ach, ppfffbbttt.

Once in Tampa, a man in a van that was painted with the logo, X’s Limosine Service drove us into Tampa proper and told us how great it was to live here and especially to drive a cab. Interesting actually, and he stated that he once got tipped in lap dances. Hmmmm. Well, you go, Dude. He left us at this godforsaken HoJo which I am simply grateful that I shall never see again in this lifetime after tonight. Steve has gone for a walk to find food. No surprise. He intends to come back with Hawaiian, I understand. Should be interesting.

Right, Steve back and he ate almost all of the one serving of dinner he bought and is now in bed with a bad tummy ache. I’m hungry and he’s sick and we have not even made it to the ship yet. No that is a horror left until tomorrow’s installment.

Night all, from a HoJo on weak feedings where it all began…

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