A Sea Change 8 Champagne To Drown Our Sorrows

Was it sufficient to keep my chest warm, or did the shawl need to be adjusted? He fussed, rearranging it to suit his taste, which was to have more exposure, damn the air conditioning. No one said anything although our table mates looked like they would burst trying not to laugh out loud. I tried to look like it was a normal occurrence. Glenn bore up outwardly while inwardly considering whether to smile or demand a duel at dawn on the afterdeck where trap shooting was available.

Social misadventure struck again when we were seated with the unpleasant Oklahomans and the dour Polish ship’s doctor dressed in his formal uniform with the blood-red shoulder tabs. While we ordered extra champagne to drown our sorrows at having to dine with the mother and daughter, the conversation began. 

Judith Works (to be continued) 

A Sea Change 7 Groupies, Crowing About Whatever

 During our long sea days the crew frequently dined with the passengers, especially on formal evenings. Our captain was well-known by many of the Americans. They were like groupies, each one vying for his attion and crowing about whatever crumbs of attion fell their way. The captain’s table, with its flowers and premium wine, was an eagerly sought after delight. Six lucky passengers were able to sashay into the dining room escorted by the ship’s social director to be seated by their place cards while they awaited the captain’s formal entrance. Our handsome Scandinavian host, somewhat red of face, was a bon vivant who thrived on the fawning attion from his passengers. One evening the lottery selected us to share his repast, Glenn on the right and me on his left. I trotted out my best outfit which was low cut but covered by a light shawl. The captain, somewhat worse for wear, took a great interest in the shawl and worried about its arrangement. He kept turning in my direction and I could see in his eyes that he was concerned.

Judith Works (to be continued)

A Sea Change 6 Self-Help Guru

 Each day started with a wake-up call from the captain: the weather report, the port schedule if we were due to dock and then reading of ghastly doggerel writ in the 1920s by the “poet,” Don Blanding. This was the signal for breakfast on deck under the spreading sun umbrellas. The days at sea were filled with Indian cooking tutorials interspersed with lectures from an over-the-hill political commentator and a self-help guru – a flashy painted woman who wore wide brimmed hats and heavy jewelry that clanked when she moved her arms. Eschewing their educational efforts, we lounged on deck watching the thousands of silvery flying fish trying to escape the bow wake. They went leaping and bouncing along like pebbles tossed in a game to see how many touch-downs could be made before finally disappearing under the water.

Judith Works (to be continued)

A Sea Change 5 Big Girl Small Bikini

 The casual Americans were a mixed lot: an elderly man in the early stages of Alzheimer’s and his harried wife, permanent cruisers who told us about shipwrecks and a society formed to tell tall tales of survival (not a group we aspired to join), fat cats with fat cigars and right-wing views, and a woman celebrating her 90^th birthday with her family. Also making a splash was a nasty tempered but well-dressed travel writer and her friend, equally rude and well dressed but obviously along only to fetch and carry for her aggressive boss. Completing the roster was a mother and daughter from Oklahoma. They caught our attion by spending their daylight hours lounging near the pool in the burning sun. Mother, overweight with skin like leather tanned in a pattern that included large cancer-like moles liberally scattered over the exposed parts, wore a pareo that didn’t cover enough when she left the pool. The daughter, as wide as she was tall, unfortunately favored a small bikini. She was like an upside-down pear and it was amazing that she didn’t fall over when standing.

Judith Works (to be continued)