It's interesting to have access to two worlds, the crew areas and the passenger areas, and I still enjoy clicking on my name tag and discreetly slipping through a door that reads, "CREW ONLY."

My favorite CREW ONLY door is this one in the hallway leading into the giant theater where we perform. It's fun to walk from a drab crew stairwell and suddenly be in this ornate, faux-Victorian walkway. It feels like a secret passage in a haunted opera house.

Cozumel.

We port right next to another, almost identical ship from the same cruise line in Cozumel, sharing the same pier. Lately, there seems to be an escalating competition between ships to see who can have a more festive Welcome-Back-Aboard greeting line. There used to be just music blaring, but now, week by week, there’s more crew waiting to celebrate your return. Like an arms race. The other ship adds chanting. Our ship adds higher ranking ship officials in uniform. The other ship adds musical instruments. Our ship adds whatever costumes they can scrounge up: a clown, Spiderman, someone dressed as a BINGO card.

Mitchell: [looking at this picture] Who is that?
Sarah: Spiderman?
Me: I don’t know who it is under there. Maybe it’s a vigilante hot towel dispenser.

My least favorite "secret" about Mexico.

I was walking behind a family on my way to the Buffet, when we all walked out into the pool area, where music was blasting but there weren't many people around.

Father: [somewhat sarcastically] Wow. It's a party.
Seven Year Old Daughter: It's always a party, Dad. Every day and every night!

Honduras.

I've heard Honduras is the murderingest country in the world. Highest murder rate.

This part seems nice, though.

Crew DVD Store.

I was looking through the DVDs in the return box and noticed someone had recently watched 'Mutiny on the Bounty.'

Leaving Tampa again (again).

Standing on the back of the ship, got into a conversation from a pleasant older couple from, as they called it, "Orlanduh." (They're originally from Virgina, but have lived in Orlando since "before Disney moved in.")

Orlanduh Woman: So, where are you from? Tampa?
Me: Uh... no... I actually work on the ship. I'm one of the performers.
Orlanduh Woman: Oooo. when is your show?
Me: This week.... Tuesday. And we have some shows on Friday and Saturday.
Orlanduh Woman: What do you do the rest of the time?
Me: Oh, we... rehearse...
Orlanduh Woman: So you don't, like, help out? Clean rooms?
Me: No. [sort of long pause] I wouldn't be good at it.
Orlanduh Woman: What? You can't make a bed? Your momma didn't teach you how to make a bed?

Two day cruise. Some call it a Booze Cruise, some call it a Cruise to Nowhere.

Sarah: I guess we just go out far enough to open the casino, and then float around out here the rest of the weekend. Probably saving a lot on gas.

Tampa again, although on a Friday for once.

Seeing a movie! In the theater! “The Hunger Games.” But mostly just nice to be seeing a movie a theater, period.

I didn’t even mind the group of tweens sitting behind us, gasping and screaming throughout the whole movie. Maybe they should get their own audio commentary on the eventual DVD release. “IT’S OKAY GAAAAALLLLEEE!!!”

[Sarah wanted me to use this picture because it best highlights her and one of the ship auctioneer's Katnis side-braids.]

Last night of the Gospel Cruise.

I snuck into the Christian Comedy Show, assuming I’d only stay for five minutes and ended up watching the whole thing. The headliner, who I found genuinely very funny, not just, you know, funny enough, said, at one point, “I don’t like being called a Christian Stand-Up. What are you, a doctor? I don’t call you a Christian Doctor.”

The MC for the evening, oddly, didn’t seem to tell any jokes, just played old TV themes songs and had the audience sing along. I’m not sure I’d qualify it as an act, exactly, but it was very effective, and honestly, a lot of fun. I quickly took this blurry picture during my favorite moment of the whole cruise, as the entire audience rose to its feet and belted out the theme song to “The Jeffersons.” Really wonderful.

Caught a few minutes of the Hallelujah Hat Parade, a fashion show of very big, very elaborate church hats. The host of the show providing commentary like, “If your crown is your glory, let this hat tell your story! Express an attitude of hat-itude!”

Mitchell: Do you realize we are very lucky to witness this very specific thing that we would probably never in our lives see otherwise.

I try to get off the ship at most ports, even just for a little bit… unless there’s a tender. Those few ports where we have to wait in line to be squooshed into a tiny boat to take us to shore… I’ll often skip.

The Gospel Cruise seems to be even more jam-packed with shows and seminars than the usual cruise. Some of my favorites, just from reading the itinerary:

Zumba Fitness Praise Party
Street Law
Why Do Black Women Lose Their Hair?
Holy Disco

Leaving Tampa again.

BUT, for the first time in two months, with a different itinerary. A five day cruise instead of seven, with slightly different stops... and most dramatically differently... it's a Gospel Cruise!

The usual entertainment has the week off, while every possible stage on the ship is packed with gospel groups singing their hearts out.

It's an adjustment to not have cell phone use all week. No more instant access to people. If you need to get in touch with someone you either have to find them or try calling the landline in their cabin.

Although, is it a landline if there's no land?

One drawback to bars on the beach: it takes a long time to download an episode of Survivor.

A few weeks ago, Sarah said, “I have this vision of sitting on a beach with my laptop and hitting send on my very last college paper and then immediately having a sip of Margarita.”

And here she is today, sending that paper. Last class, last paper. Done.

After sending her paper and drinking her drink, she immediately hopped up and started running around the beach yelling, “Whoop whoop whoop,” in a way that was very Daffy Duck-esque.

Congrats Sarah! I’m real proud of you.

The Crew Bar (by day).

The music is usually too loud and the sound of people slapping the table during a game of dominos can be distracting, but the drinks (just beer and wine, no liquor) are much much cheaper than in the passenger bars. Plus, it’s nice to mingle with the crew, at least the ones that will talk to you.

Hovering over it all is the fact that most of the crew are subject to random breathalyzer tests, not just when they’re working, at any time. And the limit, I’ve heard, is very low, about a beer and a half in an hour, depending on your size. It’s not unusual to hear, “There were surprise breathalyzers last night. So and so is gone.”

The policy is both understandable and unfortunate. If there was an emergency, most of the crew, even, say, dancers, have emergency duties. But they also work extremely hard and deserve more than a few drinks.

There are a lot of professional photo opportunities on the ship for the passengers. They can get their picture taken on the main staircase in the atrium, or... a few yards over, they can get their picture taken in front of this staircase backdrop. Sure, the staircase in the backdrop is a little fancier than the real staircase, but it's not, you know, an actual real part of the vacation they're taking.

It seems to be a popular option.

I've seen most of the shows on the ship now, a couple of them twice, but Mitchell goes to see the musical revues every week. He sits in the same place, second row, left side, each time.

Mitchell: That way they know how to find me.
Me: The singers?
Mitchell: And dancers. I'm always there. The show has become almost entirely subtle jokes to me. And that's how I like it.

Leaving Tampa again.

A half dozen or so cruise ships must leave this port every weekend, but there are always people sitting by the water’s edge, waving madly as we pass. People on benches, people in golf carts, people waving from the balcony of their apartments. Pretty much everyone. It’s rare to see someone who doesn’t stop and wave.

Sure, a cruise ship up close is kind of an impressive sight, like seeing a skyscraper float by, but still, if you lived there, wouldn’t it get old?

A picture of my parents with the cast after one of our improv shows in the lounge.

Mom: Every new show I go to I tell myself, “I’m not going to do it this time,” but I always end up turning to the person next to me and saying, “You know, my son and his wife are in this show.”

Dad, having a relaxing/celebratory cigar smoke on Deck 7, after winning some money in the casino.

Dad: I bought your mother a necklace. I bought myself a watch. [Puff] You know, I was talking to a guy in the casino and he’d just lost exactly the same amount that I’d won. [Chuckle. Puff.]

I ran into the ship doctor and asked him about the older couple we rescued at sea last week.

Me: How were they doing? I heard they were stranded for ten days.
Doc: No... they were out at sea for ten days, on their way to the Panama Canal and then Hawaii, but they weren't stranded that whole time. The waters got too rough and smashed their mast so they couldn't get out of there. It was one long night and they realized they had to call for help and abandon their ship before it capsized. It wouldn't last out there long.

Belize.

I went “cave tubing” with my parents, floating along a stream in a huge underground cave system, with only our helmet lights to illuminate the darkness. Pretty amazing. (Later, in the gift shop, I bought a CD of photos they’d taken of us, including this one, but none of them really did it justice.)

We were pulled upstream, each of our lights dancing across the limestone stalactites and bat holes above, and then we slowly paddled back… returning the same way we’d come… and maybe it was the fact that we took the same trek twice, but I have to admit, near the end, thinking, “I know this is a cathedral-like natural wonder that took thousands of years to form… but I’m getting a little bored now.”

It's raining in Honduras.

Dad: [listening to "Blue Velvet"] I like this band. We're not used to going places where everything is catered to people our age.
Mom: Our age? Speak for yourself, I'm not as old as this song.

Leaving Tampa again. Look who’s on the ship this week: my parents!

They drove down from Ohio. 16 hours, over two days.

A few hours before they arrived I got a text from my mother, which read, “We didn’t get cleaned up real well this morning so we are not looking forward to any as soon as you get on the boat pic if they do the same as the other cruise I was on.”

I replied, “I think they do take those pics.”

“Moan. I remembered them after we had been driving a while. Maybe we will have to pay money not to have it taken!?!"

Rescue at sea.

I walked into the restaurant where we perform the Murder Mystery every week and everyone was looking out the windows. There was a sailboat bobbing about on the water (you can just barely see it in the left-most window panel) and a rescue boat with an older man and an older woman in it.

Crew Member: Why would people come so far out here alone?
Crew Member 2: Americans are strange.
Crew Member: Well... wherever they were going... they're going to Tampa now.

More news trickled in, third or fourth hand, throughout the day. They're supposedly a retired couple who sold their house and started sailing around the world. Some said they ran out of gas, others said they had an electrical problem, but they're definitely hooked up to IVs now in the medical center after being stranded for, I hear, ten days. Scary. In the buffet, someone who maybe knows what they're talking about said, "I heard the woman was hysterical when they rescued them."

Everyone's curious about what will happen to their boat. Maybe the Coast Guard will get it, but several people suggested that a small boat unmanned on such rough seas will likely sink before anyone gets to it.

A band setting up in the lounge after one of our improv sets. (Don't worry, our audience was much bigger than this.)

I was standing by the bar when a sweet old woman walked up to me, reached out to touch my hand and smiled at me like she wanted to say something, but remained silent. "I hope you enjoyed the show," I said.

She reached her hand up to her throat, then placed one finger into a hole there, and said, very very softly and very very slowly, "I don't talk much... but I thought you were all wonderful."

It was the highlight of my week. Is there any greater compliment than one that probably hurts at least a little to say?

Our cabin is directly above the ship laundry, and more or less right above this stereo with the speakers pointed straight up at the ceiling and our bed. We start feeling the bass at about nine each morning.