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Island to Alaska with Pictures (part 2)

cworld

By cworld,
in Princess Cruises

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beachnative

beachnative

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CARL (notice the all-caps...as when you are dying for caffine)...I'VE JUST SPENT TWO DAYS OF MY LIFE READING THESE TWO THREADS ONLY TO FIND OUT THAT YOU ARE NOT YET FINISHED. I started yesterday, almost missed dinner, stayed up late, got up early...just to get to the part about the glaciers. When I realized that you hadn't even gotten to dinner after Skagway and that you still have two days left (of the story...I'm obviously talking about cruise days and NOT calendar days) I cursed my computer screen. My spouse has just told me that if I keep reading this thread as you s....l....o.....w....l.....y post future information I'll have proven that I'm crazier than you. I've never been a closet anything and now I'll have to become a closet "Carl reader". My options are slim...divorced if I read at home, fired if I read at work. What shall I do???

 

Also, I've learned a very valuable lesson: under no circumstances ... that means NEVER EVER... will I touch a COKE, PEPSI, or DR. PEPPER. You've got a serious problem!!!!!! You need to get a good lawyer because you could make a bundle if you sue Coke or Pepsi...you'll have enough $ to take all us loonies that have stuck with this thread on a lot of cruises with you.

 

I am thankful for one thing however...I didn't get hooked on this thread until yesterday...I'd be certifiable by now if I had been reading since last May.

 

PS>>>>>> Hurry up and post the next installment. I might be in the house alone this afternoon and can secretly open this thread and read a little (I mean a lot!!).

 

TO ANYONE ELSE WHO MIGHT BE TEMPTED TO START READING ABOUT CARL'S NORTHBOUND TRIP TO ALASKA: go for it...it's guaranteed to be made into an Oscar winning movie and you will be able to tell your friends that you knew Carl before he hit bigtime!

 

Carl: "YOU'RE THE MAN!!!!"

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cworld

cworld

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Nope,

 

Not a nap, we didn't do those everyday, however if we go again we probably will.

 

and...

 

a call from home, the only calls we got from our son were on our first sea day when he called 10 times because his cousin was late picking him up from school, like we could do anything about that from Alaska.

 

Sorry.

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camperhawk

camperhawk

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Carl... am laughing so hard can't even think right now what "it" is! Especially loved your attorney's word's of wisdom and disclaimer! I am one of the fortunate that has been reading your thread forever and as you know I must now be certified! (Thanks beachnative) I'm just not sure what we should be certified in! Craziness, Loyalty, Avid readers, PATIENCE practicers or what? Maybe it could be an alternate prize for the less deserving! And I don't care what the "attorney" says you can't end the contest or story without notice!! Thanks again for making my night after a long day!

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Mrs. cworld

Mrs. cworld

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I'll probably try to throw a little something together, but the limit is 3600 words which I find a little confining, and then there is the choice, hot or cold? Alaska or the Caribbean? Something we've already done, or something new? Hmmm. Better consult Mrs. C on this one. Also better get cracking on writing the entry. It's due by April 10, and we all know how fast I pull a story together.

 

My DH, PLEASE hurry and get that "little" story turned in!!!!! Since we aren't exactly slim, tan, bikini-wearing beach people, Alaska Revisited would be GREAT!!!!!

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cworld

cworld

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Sorry if your expecting a great exposition tonight. I'm having a little trouble with the next installment. We'll see if inspiration hits during the big basketball game tonight, or maybe the next section will be uninspiring. (No comments from the peanut gallery.) I thought I'd better drop in and keep the contest rolling.

 

Camperhawk,

 

thanks for noticing the disclaimer. Some others, who will remain nameless, didn't even read it. And sorry sunshine is not the correct answer, although we did experience it each day.

 

To my dear beloved wife,

 

the sunshine of my life, the apple of my eye, mother of my children, and any other phrase you can stick in here, I will strive to the best of my ablilities to win that Alaska trip, because I need a little more material. However, I'm afraid it's going to take a little more than 2 hours. Sorry. I'm trying. And even though we don't agree on things as big as OU/(I can't even write it) and Dr. Pepper vs that other stuff, life at our house is pretty good. Thanks.

 

To the rest of you,

 

come on, tell me what you think "IT" is. Cause I'm running out of PATIENCE. Ha, Ha.

 

Carl

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JanaJohn

JanaJohn

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[quote name='cworld']To the rest of you, come on, tell me what you think "IT" is. Cause I'm running out of PATIENCE. Ha, Ha.
Carl[/quote]

Carl, could our delay be our way of giving you a taste of your own medicine? ;)

Or maybe we're waiting for you to publish your home address so we can comply with that part of the legal stuff! Didn't your lawyer explain that you had to give out your address before anyone could meet the requirements within the legal disclaimer?

BTW, could "it" possibly be a bus trip?
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cworld

cworld

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Time for din din. Which means we walk over to the restaurant and Guido or Knuckles or whatever goon is taking names tonight, says “Welcomes bak, wouldn’ youse guys like to dine alone or with someones else?” or something like that. We (meaning me) had already decided that we (meaning me) wanted some company tonight. So we (meaning me) told the goon that if he would be so kind, we would like to join one of the larger tables tonight. So the goon called over one of the goonnets that were standing around and told him to take us to table (I’d be lying if I said I knew the actual table number, but I believe it was number) 37.

Table 37 was toward the back of the room. Table 37 was one of those tables intended to seat 8. Table 37 was decorated with a big vase of flowers as the centerpiece of the table. These flowers were fairly fresh, and made an interesting addition to the table.

Along with the centerpiece on Table 37 was the Princess cookbook. Cookbooks seemed to be on all of the larger tables. The one on our table was not anywhere close to being new. It was well broken in, and worn. I thought this distracted from the purpose of the cookbook, which I assumed would be to sell it. When we later asked the waiter about buying one, he said he could probably get one from the gift shop and bring it to us if that’s what we wanted, but he had heard that the gift shop was out of them so we might need to just order them on the website. What’s up with that?

Brrring, Brring, Hello.

Hey, Jimmy have you heard?

Heard what Jan?

Our little secret is no longer our little secret. Seems that Jamie found our little secret info center and made a little hay with the bosses.

What’d Jamie come up with?

It seems that on some of our ships we have been putting the cookbooks on the tables in the restaurants for decorations and not selling them. He convinced food services that they might pick up a little extra revenue if they kept a stash in the galleys and let the servers sell them on request. This is also a good deal for the servers, because the automatic 15 percent tip is added in. Sales of cookbooks are up ten percent in the last month. Food service gave Jamie a $500.00 cash award. He’s now scouring our little treasure trove for other ideas.

Let’s kill him.

What?

You heard me. We could poison him, or cut his break lines or something. I’ve been watching C.S.I. lately and I have an idea how we could do it and get away with it.

You’ve got to be kidding.

OK, so maybe killing him is a little drastic, but we’ve got to do something.

Maybe you’ll just have to work a little harder.

NEVER.

Sorry it's so short. I'm still looking for something to inspire me. I'll try to get more up before the weekend.
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cworld

cworld

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Finally, some inspiration and some time for perspiration (pew-eee). The inspiration came from the source of all my great thoughts, (hear Chicago in the background singing quietly “You’re my Inspiration”), the source of all that’s good in my life, my dear wife. We finally had some time to sit down and talk about our remembrances of this nights din-din, and it inspired me to write what you are about to read. So if the following offends, bothers or in any way doesn’t work for you blame Mrs. C not me. And about the perspiration, that’s Mrs. C’s fault too. (Just kidding dear. Love ya, mean it.)

We were seated at Table 37 with an eclectic group of people. Mrs. C and I have a different recollection of the seating order, and since this is my story, we’re going with what I remember. When got to table 37 there were only 2 people seated. These were 2 adorable, saucy, little (literally) old ladies sitting there. These ladies had at one time in their lives lived in Jolly Old England, Wales to be exact, and they sounded like it. I think, my memory, they both lived in Vancouver currently, but had spent most of their lives across the pond in Wales. We were seated next to these adorable, saucy, little old ladies from Wales/Vancouver and spent a lot of time talking to them. I just love listening to that accent. The adorable, saucy, little old ladies from Wales/Vancouver had escaped from the traditional dining room to try something new. Now, everybody breathe in and out... Nobody go jumping off of roofs... I know this is not supposed to be done, but they did it, and I’m glad they did. They were cute, and a lot of fun to talk too. In the immortal words of Mrs. C, they were a hoot.

After we had been seated a couple of minutes, a waiter came up and asked if I wanted something from the bar? “No, but I’d love a good glass of ice tea, but since all you’ve got is the sludge they serve here in the underwhelming Bordeaux dining room, I guess I’ll have that”, I said a little brusquely. I don’t think he understood my humor. Mrs. C also ordered some iced tea, and we waited. And we waited, and talked to the adorable, saucy, little old ladies from Wales/Vancouver some more.

Hmm. We’re here, we’re hungry, wonder how long it will be until they start serving a half empty table? About the time George and I really started worrying, GoonTwo (Dr. Suess’s birthday was this week and I thought about writing a tribute to him, but I’m no Dr. Suess, so I didn’t. Sigh.) showed up with a new couple and helped them sit down. How to describe this couple? Hmmm? I’ll just call them Mr. and Mrs. Lovely. Mr. and Mrs. Lovely was just that, Lovely.

Here’s what would have happened if dinner had been like one of those cheesy movies like “Airplane” or “Naked Gun” or something. Whenever Mr. and Mrs. Lovely walked in to a room spotlight would have latched on to them. Every eye would have turned to see just who had walked in. When they were half way to the table a dance floor would have magically appeared and they would have danced the Tango or maybe Saturday Night Fever or something. When they sat at the table they’d had a skylight shining on them like Glen Close in “The Natural”.

This would have fit Mr. and Mrs. Lovely. Mr. and Mrs. Lovely told us they lived in lovely Napa Valley, California, where the weather had just been lovely, which is how they explained their lovely dark tans. If’n I’d had to guess, I’d guess Mr. and Mrs. Lovely were in their lovely early 50’s. They said they had 2.5 lovely kids, or something like that, who were going to lovely UCSB or beautiful Pepperdine or wonderful UCLA or one of those lovely California snooty pooty schools. If I remember right (at this point, who knows) Mr. and Mrs. Lovely told us they were in one of the sweet thingys and just decided on a whim to join the lower class tonight as they dined. We felt properly blessed.

As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Lovely sat down 2 waiters appeared and asked if they needed anything. Mr. Lovely said, they would just have some water until they decided what they would order. Which prompted the waiters to distribute the menus.

What to eat? Let’s see there’s that fru-fru sounding stuff, or that pasta with some unpronounceable sauce, or THERE IT IS... STOP RIGHT THERE... Just like I surmised. It’s crab time. KING CRAB time. Bring me a bushel.

The waiters came back with Mr. and Mrs. Lovely’s water, our sludge, and the other couple’s drinks. The adorable, saucy, little old ladies from Wales/Vancouver had drinks (real drinks) before we got there, and if I remember right one of them got a refill, or several. The waiters started taking orders.

Mr. and Mrs. Lovely ordered a lovely dinner. Everything was perfect. I’ll start with a truffle appetizer with a side of grey poupon, followed by a salad of fresh spinach topped with a mango chutney, I think tonight I’ll pass on the soup, and for the main course pheasant under glass sounds divine, and I think we’ll have the ’57 Chateau ‘du Lovely (only the best). I noticed that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Lovely stooped to ordering the Crab Legs.

One of the adorable, saucy, little old ladies from Wales/Vancouver and I ordered the Crab Legs, and I think the other couple did too. Mrs. C wasn’t in an adventurous mood and ordered the steak.

My mouth was already watering. I love crabmeat. I’ve had it several times in dishes, but I’ve never had Crab Legs that you pull right out of the shells. I had been anticipating this meal for weeks. I’m going to eat 4 or 5 platefuls of this stuff. I’m starved. Alaskan King Crab Legs this is going to be great.
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cworld

cworld

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[quote name='Mrs. cworld']My DH, what about the couple from Pennsylvania?????[/quote]

Patience. All will be come clear in time. Rome wasn't built in a day. Insert other time based sayings here...
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