Letters From The Loft

Stuff From The Desk Of Chuck Thornton

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Journal Entry: Alaska Cruise - page 5

DAY SIX

Another stop today at Ketchikan, known to the locals at “Totem Town” because… oh, who knows? I mean, yeah, there are a bunch of totem poles around town, but that’s still not a good enough reason to call the place you live “Totem Town.” There is no good reason to call the place you live “Totem Town”.  I’m convinced it’s just something told to the tourists.  Address a letter to “Totem Town, Alaska” and I’ll bet you that it ends up in the mailbox of Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.

We again had no booked excursion planned for Ketchikan, but we got off the ship and looked around the town for a little while. This was the biggest of the three towns we visited and the first one where we actually saw a supermarket and a Wal-Mart. This was good news for me because I was able to procure a couple of bottles of Diet Dr. Pepper, otherwise known as the Elixir of Life.

Quick aside: the cruise ship doesn’t serve Dr. Pepper, in any variety. In fact, it’s really not easy to get any soda pop on board.  Nowhere is there the fountain set-up that you find at any Seven-Eleven or fast food chain. At the buffets, they only have non-carbonated beverages like juices, punch and iced tea.  I’m sure that, if asked, the official cruise industry position is that, if they carried enough of the tanks needed to put the fizz in fountain drinks to cover the demand on your average cruise, there wouldn’t be enough room for necessities like booze or jugglers.

The cruise ship only has soda pop at the bars, only in cans, and, coincidentally, only in the varieties that are mixed with alcohol, and they charge you for it just like they charge you for the alcoholic drinks. So, in keeping with the family-friendly mandate that keeps the Vegas-style dancers well-contained in their costumes, they offer a “fountain fun card” that you purchase once, and then use for the duration of the cruise to procure soft drinks at no additional charge. There are a couple of drawbacks: 

  1. You still have to go to the bar and flash your card to get the soda pop. I would imagine most of the targeted demographic who purchase the card aren’t exactly comfortable with bellying up to the bar next to the guy who’s primarily taking the cruise so he won’t have to worry about a designated driver.
  2. Most of us soft-drink aficionados are used to the convenience-store-sized serving which usually consists of your favorite soft drink poured into a plastic container that you strap to your back and access with an extra-long straw. Cruise ships have chosen the Dark Side: take a 12 oz. glass, fill it with ice, then pour part of the contents of a 12 oz. can into it. Not exactly a satisfying serving for someone who’s so hooked on carbonation that they’re willing to pay extra. Instead of the Big Gulp we’ve become accustomed to, the cruise line’s handing us something that’s consumed by the first sharp intake of breath.

So, as I was saying, I managed to score a couple of bottles of Diet Dr. Pepper at a convenience store in Ketchikan that I took back to our stateroom. Word got out on board, and if I’d had extra empty bottles, I probably could have cut my stash with some coffee and made a nice profit on the street. But I’m just a user, not a dealer.

After we returned to the ship, we took it easy for the rest of the day. All of our regular dining room group was present, and we managed to socialize respectably, although it was clear that the last few days of strenuous relaxing was beginning to take its toll on all of us. Some of the slack was taken up having our waiters share their history. Both were from the Philippines and… well, that’s about as much as I understood, because both of them were from the Philippines. They were great waiters and I really felt sorry for them, because it seems clear that, whatever they’re getting paid, it’s not enough.  They don’t seem to get days off, and I think the only breaks they get are when passengers stop eating, and that only happens before the apocalypse.

After dinner we went to the show, a music-and-dance salute to Broadway entitled “The Show Must Go On.” Unfortunately, there were electrical difficulties with the stage, and the show had to be cancelled. So we went back to the stateroom. The towel animal for this evening seemed to be a pudgy human form hung by a noose from the fire sprinkler. Maybe it’s time to leave a tip for housekeeping.

 DAY SEVEN

 The last real day of the cruise is just a day at sea on the way back to Vancouver. Arrival time is tomorrow (Wednesday) morning, and we’ll be off the ship around 8 am to be sterilized and transported straight to the airport, where my expertly-crafted itinerary allows us five hours to make sure we get on the right plane.

This last day, especially when there’s no port of call, really tests the mettle of a cruise director. Shawn on our cruise did her best to generate excitement among passengers who by now need defibrillators to be kick-started into any forward motion. There are plenty of activities scheduled, such as bingo games, ship tours, trivia challenges, and the trophy presentation to the passenger with the greatest body-mass index increase. We’ve just heard an announcement that the stage show that was cancelled last night will have a special showing this evening, presumably to stop the flood of pro-rated refund requests pouring into the purser’s office.

So there’s plenty to keep us busy, but we haven’t planned much except the show and dinner. (Sue’s just returned from a class on how to make all those towel animals and has proudly shown me a monkey that looks like a flying squirrel, just before asking me for a tip.) The last night of the cruise is always tricky, because you have to pack up and leave your luggage outside your door before 10 PM.  So basically, the only thing you can leave out of your suitcase before you go to bed is whatever you’re willing to carry on to the airplane the next day, and it’s pretty embarrassing to have your teddy bear’s head sticking up out of your briefcase.

One last journal entry is planned after we make it home (he said optimistically). Once home, I’m sure I’ll have regained the emotional distance necessary for some final reflection on the trip.

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