No Sled! No Sled!

M got scolded this morning by the Ukrainians for sneaker–skiing on deck. “Sir! No sled! No sled!”  Which I could understand, had there been anyone else on deck we might have run into.  We were just trying to enjoy our “Fun Day At Sea!!!” as per  (repeated) instructions.  Wasn’t quite as interesting as visiting Hell and petting stingrays and giant turtles, which is what was on the original itinerary and what we paid for, but it got the blood pumping.

What else do you do on a cruise ship when the wind is coming in at 40+ miles an hour and your shore excursions are cancelled? Besides eat and laugh at the rats in the casino maze, glued to their screens, jabbing at their buttons? Really, they’re going to cancel all deck excursions, too? Maybe they thought we’d go right on over the side.

When we had wind like this in Canada, we’d make a sail with blankets and let the breeze pull us across the front lawn. We didn’t take the bedding and fashion any sails today–our backs being broader than when we were kids, they worked fairly well—especially since the spray had gotten the decks nice and slick.

The port of Grand Cayman shut down all their ports when we arrived due to the large swells. Not safe to anchor in the area, so we are on our way to Cozumel instead.

If you have an atlas handy—Google earth maybe—check out the colossal waste of diesel on this trip. Florida to the Grand Cayman Islands and our next stop is Cozumel, Mexico. We’re talking like 1000 wasted miles. 

The crew is apologizing profusely and denying and responsibility for weather or government decisions. In case we suspected they had a hand in either.  They’ve set up adult dodgeball tournaments and large scale pictionary games.  We’re going to hang out on our own private deck all day and eat pineapple.

By the way, the private balcony—totally worth it. I could have gone with the percale and none would be the wiser. Unless there are satellites out there somewhere spying on Room 256. . . on second thought, maybe DON’T Google-earth this area. . .

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