All posts tagged: cruise

towel animal

Trouble on the High Seas

The astute amongst you might have realized that I’ve returned from the Bahamas only to leave Philadelphia again without so much as a word here at Fieldwork in Stilettos.  That’s because… well, there’s lots of reasons really, but let’s just say stuff is bound to come up when you spend an entire week on a cruise ship with your boyfriend and his entire family. We had a great time.  Really.  I read three books, studied for the GREs (more on that later) and ate approximately 6,000 calories every day, including made-to-order arugula and prosciutto pizzas for lunch.  The ship had mini golf, a water slide and a gorgeous grown-ups only retreat complete with double wide deck chairs and hammocks.  TWD and I challenged his kids to a chicken fight at the beach in Florida and they challenged us to a rematch once we hit Nassau.   I honestly cannot remember the last time I laughed so hard.  TWD even got me to sing karaoke after three glasses on wine on the final formal night of cruise. …

plucking eyebrows

Just the Seven of Us…

Did I mention that TWD and I are going on another cruise?  Well, we are.  Only this time it’s going to be a bit different from last year’s trip to Bermuda. Firstly, I’m not worried about us breaking up this time.  (I was, admittedly, a bit concerned last summer—the longest we’d ever spent together was two or three days—but we got through it, didn’t kill each other in the process and rather enjoyed ourselves.) Secondly, his entire family is coming.  And yes, I do mean his entire family: kids, parents and even his maternal grandmother. I’m a bit nervous.  I don’t like traveling in groups.  In fact, I don’t really like traveling with anyone.  But this, I suppose, is one of those times when the journey is more important than the destination.  And I’ve already been to the Bahamas, so if I don’t get to check every last tourist attraction off of my to-do list, I can live with that. I’m still doing my best not to reveal the age or gender of TWDs kids …

teenagers on cruise

Anthropology on Deck 10

I am officially old.  I know this because on Day #1 of our cruise to Bermuda, The Wedding Date and I plunked ourselves down on a pair of deck chairs and spent the entire morning observing the behavior of a group of teenagers to our left. And I was appalled. In the center was a scantily clad brunette of about sixteen.  She was wearing a bright orange bikini from Victoria’s Secret and had acquired an entourage of six male suitors. At first I was impressed—we’d only been on the ship for a matter of hours!—but as I watched the boys fawning all over her, I realized they were all a bunch of idiots.  I mean, let’s do the math: 6 guys + 1 girl = at least 5 rather disappointed suitors. Under the guise of reading our library books, TWD and I spent nearly three hours watching the situation develop.  And thanks to my obnoxiously wide-brimmed hat (not to mentioned TWD’s skill at gossiping in Spanish), they had no idea we were talking about them. …

Bermuda Beach

That Damn Bermuda Triangle

Well folks, it’s over.  No more strolling down the beach hand in hand.  No more champagne.  No more salsa.  No more waltzing-even-though-nobody-else-is-waltzing.  No more falling asleep next to The Wedding Date or waking up beside him, cursing his alarm and his addiction to the “snooze” button.  No more rum, no more rum cakes, and no more mornings spent drinking coffee in the hot tub watching the sun rise. Because it’s over. No more. Done. By which I mean the cruise of course, not me and The Wedding Date :) We survived.  In fact, for the past week we were inseparable.  No arguments, no disputes, no “My God, can’t you leave me alone for just ONE HOUR???”  I still can’t quite believe it—after everything that’s gone on between us this summer, I was convinced we’d break up somewhere around Day #3 and spend the rest of our vacation trying to avoid one another (which would have been rather difficult given our little matchbox of a room…)—but we made it.  And not only that but I’m convinced …

singing karaoke

And Now He Wants Me to SING with Him?

I’ve discovered something truly terrible about The Wedding Date.  Something I don’t know that I can accept.  Something I’m not sure we’ll be able to overcome.  The Wedding Date, dear readers, likes karaoke. This is a problem because we’re going on a cruise next month.  Cruises have karaoke and not only is The Wedding Date planning to sing but he wants me to sing with him. Allow me to shed some light onto my illustrious musical career thus far: Grace Lutheran Church, circa 1997: I joined the church choir with my mother, only to discover that I was an alto, not a soprano as I’d previously hoped.  Thanks to my inability to read music, however, and the fact that there were only two altos in the entire choir, I always had to stand next to one of the sopranos and was forever drifting into singing the melody by mistake. Freehold Music Center, circa 1999: I auditioned for my first musical and was cast as one of Cinderella’s step sisters in a community theater production of …

A Scandal at Sea

Sunday marked a year since I met The Wedding Date.  Today marks a month until we set sail on our first cruise as a couple.  To say I’m excited is an understatement—I’m ecstatic, so ecstatic in fact that I’ve already begun trying on all of my formal wear and managed to get myself stuck inside the pink halter I bought at Jomar—but I’m also nervous. We’ve never been on vacation together before, unless you count Boston back in January and that was only one night.  Our cruise is six nights.  Six nights is a long time when you still haven’t mastered the art of actually sleeping next to your significant other. I’m also one of those people who likes her space and even though Royal Caribbean’s Vision Class cruise ships hold several thousand passengers, our room doesn’t.  We’re staying in an “interior stateroom” which is cruise-talk for Small-windowless-cell-because-you-can’t-afford-anything-else. Our agent didn’t call it that, of course; she called it “the most economic option” but now she’s teasing me that she booked us the “boiler room …