Crew barbeque on the helipad. There weren't many other performers there but the food was great if you don't mind a few pig faces.

Coca-Cola really has this corner of Honduras covered. This picture doesn’t do it justice. I’m standing under two or three more identical Coke signs that you can’t see. In fact, I may have only seen three or four signs in town that aren’t Coke signs. Many of the little bars and restaurants have the Coca-Cola logo painted on the side, and most of the plastic chairs you’ll sit on in port are either Coke or Sol (a beer).

I think they get them for free. So, all the signs look the same, but hey, free sign.

Sarah doing some homework on Deck 7. She’s doing three independent studies from the ship, and will finally get her degree in a couple weeks.

But she’s also getting a different kind of education on-board…

Sarah: One of the girls in the spa taught me a word in Afrikaans… there’s no direct English translation but the closest is, "if that lady loses any more weight she will fall through her own butthole."

Tampa again. This is where we get off the ship in the morning and back on again at 2:30.

I don’t mind getting back on the ship exactly, but the manic blaring of the Welcome Aboard music (the Village People, Madonna’s “Holiday,” etc) from the passenger gangways above does have an eerie Groundhog Day feeling. Each week I find myself slowing down, easing into a normal life on the ship more and more, which only makes that weekly reset back to 10 more disconcerting.

I spend a decent amount of time by myself. Sitting out on the deck, or in one of the bars, or at the buffet, reading or working on something for my job back home. Totally normal, unless, maybe, if you’re on vacation (which I’m not exactly). For some reason if you’re sitting by yourself on vacation it seems a bit sad to other people.

Early in the week, before our first show, when I blend in better as a passenger, I can sense people walking by feeling bad for me, or the occasional slightly drunk guy will yell, “Hey, man, have fun!”

I usually don’t say anything, but what I should say is, “Don’t worry. This is wonderful.”

We rented a jeep in Cozumel to drive around the island. Me, Eric (also a performer for Unnamed Comedy Theater, but for a different ship that ports in Cozumel the same day we do), Lynn, Sarah and RC.

Awesome to get away from the port and see the other, quieter beaches. It was almost frighteningly windy and the water was rough, but we enjoyed trying to fight our way out past waist level while the waves smacked us back to land.

We ate at an open-air hut on stilts, but the wind flung salsa on our pants and blew the money we used to pay for lunch out into the woods where a waiter chased it down.

The jeep itself was rickety and felt like it would fall apart around us while we drove.

So, yeah, good day.

The crew hot tubs (ja-crew-zzis). Pretty nice to have two hot tubs on the very front of the ship.

Occasionally, sitting up on one of the higher decks, I’ll overhear a passenger spot those hot tubs and say, “we have to figure out how to get down there.” But they won’t be able to. Because they’re just for crew.

There are only two drawbacks to the crew hot tub area: One, if the ship is moving it is way too windy to lay out and read there. And two, one of the television channels on the ship is just a camera pointed at the front of the ship, so at any time, anyone could be sitting in their cabin watching you on TV.

One of the nice perks of working for Unnamed Comedy Theater and not technically directly for the cruise line is that we are not required to wear our magnetic name tags in passenger areas. We're required to wear them in crew areas, but the second we slip out from behind the "Crew Only" doors, those name tags come right off.

The few times you forget to take them off you are immediately pounced on by passengers with questions you don't know the answers to. It may be the most important perk of all, especially since during the days before our first show each cruise we can move around in almost total anonymity.

Honduras again. A sleepy little bar overlooking the ocean.

Inside it's packed to the gills with cruise ship crew using the free wifi, most of them sitting, staring at a wall, for their few precious hours off-ship.

The patio, with a great view of the water, is usually empty, though, because there's nowhere to plug in a laptop.

The carpets on the ship are color coded. Blue, green, red. Fore, mid-ship, aft. But not necessarily in that order. In fact, probably not. I pay no attention to it, so I'm the wrong person to ask. I took this picture in fore... I think... so, blue is probably fore. Maybe. I don't know. I get around.

Tampa again. At the “International Mall” that we get shuttled to for a few hours of good old fashioned American shopping.

Sarah is buying something in the Apple Store while I squat outside with my PC, using the wifi.

Sarah: You know, the guy in there said you were perfectly welcome to come inside and use the wifi in a little more comfort.
Me: Oh.

I finally tracked down a schedule of activities on the ship, and there’s a lot more going on than I realized. Workshops, little shows and seminars. “Origami with Krazy Kristin.” “Goofy Golf Putting Challenge.” “Sailing Solo Get Together.”

Also, “Friends of Bill W” meet at the same time as the “Martini Tasting,” but luckily far away from each other.

A slightly drunk but entirely pleasant Canadian passenger explaining to us how to find a bar in Cozumel that we "gotta go to," using this napkin as a guide.

"The first street is here, the second street is here, this popcorn flake over here is where ya gotta go."

Maybe not the most helpful map, but we did realize that this gentleman in the "Old Guys Rule" t-shirt has learned a lot more about Cozumel in one day than we've figured out in a month of weekly stops.

Drennan, our musical director, in his mid-sized crew cabin.

This is Drennan’s seventh cruise contract and he has a very particular schedule for himself, which he showed me on his laptop.

Me: I heard you’ve scheduled yourself down to 15 minute increments.
Drennan: I don’t know if it’s as specific as 15 minutes but… [clicks on something] Oh yeah. It is. 0.25. 15 minutes.

So he has each day of each week scheduled out with a measured amount of time for sleeping and the shows we do but also for yoga and playing his various musical instruments and composing.

Drennan: I’ve learned how easily free time, even a lot of free time, can just disappear.
Me: So how close are you keeping to your schedule?
Drennan: Not 100%. I’ve been sleeping in more than I intended. But pretty close.

The most interesting thing about his schedule that he keeps on a spreadsheet is that it totals everything up for the week. The accumulative amount of everything for the week, even 1.75 hours a week of “waking up.”

I've never been big on anti-bacterial soap, but they push it on you a lot on the ships and probably rightfully so. A cruise ship could be a viral nightmare if they weren't as diligent about sanitation as they are. There are hand wash stations everywhere and women posted at the entrances to the Buffet with squirt bottles ready. They sometimes say, "Happy happy washy washy smiley smiley." Not all the time, but enough to make an impression.

During our improv show on the ship when we ask for a suggestion from the audience of "a line of dialogue, maybe something you heard today," about 70% of the time someone yells out, "Happy happy washy washy smiley smiley" and it always gets a big laugh.

Crew party for Valentine's Day. A toga party in the gym (white sheets draped over elliptical machines).

Mostly just the dancers dressed up in togas although one of the Youth Counselors dressed as Cupid and handed out condoms and I tucked a white napkin into the front of my shirt.

Someone drew a red heart on Sarah's hand and my hand. I thought it was red for Valentine's Day, but she also had a green and yellow marker. So, we got red hearts because we're married, and thus not available. Green means single.

Me: So, yellow means...?
Sarah: Someone back home?
Me: Ah, yellow means you're looking for someone who can be discreet.

I didn't see any actual yellow hearts, but a magician did have a red heart on his hand with a green border.

Words can not fully express how much the lead singer of this band sounds exactly like Kenny Rogers while singing, "Islands in the Stream." As I was walking by, at first I thought I was listening to a recording.

The singer is Asian, and sounds Asian, and yet somehow at the same time, sounds 100% like Kenny Rogers. It's weird and it's wonderful.

Mitchell: That's funny. You know, they learn the songs phonetically, they don't know what they're singing. Maybe that's why.

Sadly, no one in the band sounds anything like Dolly Parton.

Leaving Tampa again. Another week, another cruise.

Even though it's the loudest part of the week (Black Eyed Peas-wise), I like to go up top when we leave port, watch the city float away. Oddly, even though almost every passenger on-board is out on deck during this time, crowded around the pool, or jammed against the front railing of the ship, aft is usually fairly empty. That first hour of vacation, everyone's more interested in looking forward than back.

Sarah, dancing on the helicopter pad on the back of the ship (aft, if you're nautical).

Normally, this spot would be covered in deck chairs, but "high winds" and rocky seas have driven most of the passengers below deck.

Cozumel, Mexico.

Sarah hurt her neck trying to do P90X with some other performers on the ship. It’s been bothering her so much that she went to a random chiropractor in port.

Sarah: He seemed a little crazy but… good. He gave me anti-inflammation medication and said he could either give me some muscle relaxers, or I could just drink. [sips margarita] So I have a prescription to drink.

Costa Maya, Mexico.

Despite being at sea for three weeks, this is only the second time I’ve been in water.

Must… do this… more.

This is what the crew areas generally look like. They have a quasi-military feel, with the occasional dancer walking through in workout clothes. This is “I-95” the main hallway that goes down the full length of the ship.

“Guest Entertainers”generally have more privileges than many of the workers on the ship, and I’ve been warned that this can lead to some ‘Upstairs, Downstairs’ type resentment (‘Sometimes Upstairs, Downstairs’?). So, I do my best to seem… likeable? I’ve been told in the past that I can come off as aloof, maybe it’s the heavy eyebrows, so I’m making a special effort to say “hello” to… well… anyone on I-95 that makes even the most fleeting eye contact with me. “Hello.” “Hello.” “Hello there.”

I worry that I may be overdoing it. I might seem like a maniac.

Honduras. A monkey rescue facility we stumbled across while looking for a restroom.

A monkey kept reaching out to RC through the wires, so RC tried handing him his ID/room key.

RC: He's not going to be able to get that through the mesh, right?
Me: This isn't going to end well.

The crew laundry room. The machines are all touchy and half are completely broken. Luckily a cranky but kind Eastern European guy with a name badge from the ship casino gave me some tips and told me which washers to avoid entirely.

Casino Guy: This is my first contract too. But I’ve been here three months already. So I know the ropes.
Me: How do you like it?
Casino Guy: Mostly I don’t. The work is good. Not hard. Second week on ship, I meet girl, we fall in love. But we work different shifts. She gets off at 6. I start at 8.
Me: So you only get two hours a day?
Casino Guy: Less. And I share a room with four guys. Not good. How many people in your cabin?
Me: Oh, well, I’m here with my wife, so…
Casino Guy: Lucky. [squints at my name tag] How does someone become “Guest Entertainer?”
Me: Well, we do improv, which is… [I trail off, realizing an explanation of improv comedy is not necessary] I took classes for a year or so. Did… gigs… for a while. Auditioned.
Casino Guy: Why are my clothes covered in suds? Great, this machine is broken now too.

The Super Bowl. Any corner of the ship with a TV or screen was playing the game, and any place playing the game was packed with passengers.

Sarah was the only member of the cast interested in the actual game, while the rest of us were disappointed to realize that we wouldn’t see any Super Bowl commercials. None of the channels on the ship play commercials. Or, they only play commercials for themselves. A commercial break on MSNBC is filled with commercials for MSNBC and a commercial break on E! is all E! commercials. So, instead of seeing what new epic commercials the beer and soda companies were unleashing this year, we saw lots of commercials for ESPN’s upcoming coverage of Rugby and “football.”

Backstage (which is really just a crew stairwell) before our Murder Mystery performance. Everyone reviews their scripts to remind them what happens if they get killed off.

Mitchell (top): We've really got to get some chairs back here.

In some areas, tackiness abounds, but I am not above finding these bar stools funny.

If, like me, you’ve never been on a cruise ship, I can not emphasize enough that you always feel it swaying. Always. Sometimes it’s more dramatic but it’s always there, like slight turbulence on a plane. I haven’t felt sick or needed to use any pills or special bracelets. After a while, the rocking becomes comforting and familiar.

The weird part is being back on solid land, sitting at a café overlooking the beach, and suddenly feeling like the ground is moving. The unnatural rocking is still there. And that’s when the queasiness creeps in a little. Everything has swapped and now land is foreign and unstable, and you think, “Oh no, I now belong to the sea.”

What to do after a wonderful cast dinner at the nicest (pay) restaurant on the ship?

Go to the medical center and play with the free samples of condoms and finger rubbers.

RC (one of the single performers in the cast): I touched these condom packages so I should... probably... keep them.