[C] Minority Bingo …

This, like many posts to follow, is a looking-back at what we've done, a writing of days more than a week past. But, unlike most to follow, this little vignette, Inappropriate Bingo, was actually written on the ship. Yeah! First, context:

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Our boat, the USS Rotterdam, about the size of a dime if it were on your horizon, hosted Gigi and I in a Garden Verandah Stateroom from Florida to Rotterdam, Holland, the ship's namesake port. The crossing began immediately upon pulling out of the Florida harbor, no intermediate stops, and consisted of eight straight days across the Atlantic -- eight days divided evenly between a gentle rocking and an aggressive, spasmodic rise-and-fall and left-and-right stumble about the ocean. Given that I submit to motion sickness so quickly that I can't play video games or watch Imax movies, the crossing was a touch miserable for me: days 1 and 2 were calm and new, and I slept 44 of the 48 hours of days 3 and 4, but the rest of my at-sea time consisted of light meals, long naps, occasional writing, ginger-cucumber mocktails from the bar, and all the lurching steps in between. I did manage to fit in a movie, a few dances at the on-board disco, and a yoga attempt or two – but that's about it. Me and a motiony ocean don't mix.

Maybe that's how this little story started? I mean, it was just a fun idea to pass the time, a joke to get my fuzzy thoughts off the nausea. And, maybe, it was an outlet for my cruising frustrations? See, I love to travel. I've sat still on tour buses, backpacked around safe countries by myself, day-tripped less safe countries with a group, driven coastlines with family, lounged at all-inclusive resorts with my best friend – I've been exposed to many forms of trip-taking. There's just something about cruising – I don't like it. I try, I appreciate the helpful-to-some aspects of it, and I hold no ill-will towards those who enjoy it, it just doesn't do it for me. It might be that the predominate age of cruisers is 'Old.' It might be that your schedule is heavily controlled by someone else. It might be my motion-sickness. It might be any number of things (my first story tried to explore why I don't care to cruise, but ended up painting me as depressed, completely miserable, and bitter against the elderly). Regardless, I found a perfect way to distract and entertain myself, to write. Of course. But also, and almost as perfect:

Minority Bingo
by: Cee

We did it. We found them, at least two of them. To be fair, they weren't incognito—in fact, they may be the more colorful of crayons in the box:

Last night, around ten pm, before the Pilipino Crew Show and after a lengthy dinner, Grandma and I wandered up to the dance club and bar, the Crow's Nest, for Karaoke. Despite pleas from the DJ for willing singers, the audience remained blasé -- near-dead, you could say; a hair's breadth or another cruise from the long sleep, you could say. Except for two: a Liza Manelli double who claimed the stage, and fifty-something, balding man in a Hawaiian shirt. The two went tit-for-tat at the mic: she sang Cabaret and lightly pole-danced, he sang something Sinatra and flung his arms out in crescendo; she scatted an Ella Fitzgerald with bluesy hip-swings, he sang This Time acapella and fabulous.

Their meetings occur daily at 5pm, a "four-letter acronym" Gathering at the MIX bar on deck five. Grandma and I have always been too asleep or otherwise engaged (eating, drinking, or reading) to attend – that, and I don't think Grandma finds this unintentional hunt to be in good taste. Whereas, I think we should play some sort of bingo for the under-represented on our cruise: find someone wearing the motion sickness patch, find someone under the age of 46, find a black passenger, find the L, G, B, or T….

After their final numbers, Sinatra and Manelli heartily shook hands and bowed dramatically for the audience. Sinatra skipped off-stage and dropped, proud and breathy, in the seat next to his loving partner, and Liza clicked in high-heels back towards the martini bar. Not that there was, but if there had been a completely inappropriate game of Minority Bingo going on, Grandma and I could each have happily claim a "Gay" – good thing we found a cruising pair – and one of us might have gone ahead and included the dark-skinned Personal Trainer as a "Black Passenger" for the win… Bingo, Grandma, B-I-N-G-O…