So. Some answers to the obvious questions. First, did I have a good time? Yes and no. I loved the travel at sea; it agrees with me. Being away from the chaos of our current world is quite soothing, the sea spread out all around me clear to the horizon, the ocean ancient and eternal, disturbed only by the ship’s wake, a trail of white foam churning out behind. And some of the people I met (despite my rather graphic descriptions of them) were, in the end, really nice. I will have fond memories of them, especially Lise and Libby, Mariella, and the Millers. But I found being a gentleman host not easy for me. As I’ve already said, it’s a very schizoid role and switching back and forth each day between being a guest and being a host required a psychological agility not natural to my personality. Furthermore, some of the Solos were just awful, vested as they were in their ego and their status. As the cruise continued, the initial veneer of pleasantry began to wear off and these ugly, embedded traits became more obvious. This one didn’t want to sit at a table with that one. That one wouldn’t sit at a table of more than six. No, I don’t want to sit at that table; we sat there last night. No, the seamstresses shouldn’t be involved with the Solos; they’re workers, not guests. They shouldn’t have meals with us. Don’t put her next to me; she’s boring. You get the picture. Although this chore of dividing up the group (in the end, of about 20) for dinner became increasingly difficult, I enjoyed trying to meet their sometimes conflicting demands. After all, it was simply management, like much of my career. If I could manage a company, I thought, I can manage this. And I grew to love the social aspects of the job: saying hello or good morning or good evening to everyone I met, smiling all the time, steering conversations away from controversial topics. But, oddly, I didn’t love the dancing. Sasha and Olena taught in international style, which meant starting the rumba on a different beat and a different foot, or waltz with only left turns. And I was unprepared for salsa and tango. The routines were complicated and the music often too fast. Each day, we had lessons in a different dance, which meant never really nailing anything down. I never did get that routine in quick step. As a result, this made my major responsibility difficult and I often felt inadequate, not a happy combination. And dancing every night from eleven o’clock until midnight (when any sane person would be in bed) while making sure I wasn’t slighting anyone, became a definite chore. Now, let’s see; which Claudine have I neglected? Have I danced tonight with Margot (with the T)? I learned to adjust my dancing to the steps and skill level of my partner, often just really walking around the floor while Claudine #2 was twisting and turning and spinning like a crazy gyroscope. Still, I took the gig because I thought it would challenge me. And it did. So, in the end, I’m glad I did it.
But will I accept the offer to cruise again on the first leg of a world tour, from San Diego to Singapore? No. A clear and unequivocal no. First, it’s much too soon; the cruise begins in January. I need some time and distance before I might try this again. But more important to my decision to decline the offer is that Heinz is already scheduled to be the other host on that gig. Despite my best intentions and efforts to accommodate his Nazi personality, I just couldn’t go through that another time. I would never serve with Heinz again.
So would I go again? The past has taught me to never say, “Never.” But any future cruise where I was a host would have to go some place in the world I wanted to visit and there aren’t that many places left on my list. And, I would want to have a suite (read stateroom [read cabin]) of my own, a condition I doubt any cruise line will meet. So, no. I probably won’t be a host again.
Despite my emphasis here on the ordeal of my cruise, there are some aspects of it that I will remember, and miss. I will miss that great bacon at breakfast, the ripe papaya and the sweet pineapple. I will remember Henry, smiling at his table by the window in the morning and drinking his Southern Comfort Manhattan at the bar each night. I will miss the gorgeous sunrises at sea. I will remember Sasha’s giggle when he flubbed a dance lesson routine and his lead-up to a combination: “five-six, five-six-seven-eight,” just like in Chorus Line. I will miss Libby’s explosive laughter and the Dragon Lady’s upraised little finger. I will miss wine with dinner and always carrying my camera on my belt so I could capture those unexpected vignettes. I will miss Gabriele’s naughty imperiousness. I’ll remember how Claudine #2 liked to spin and twist on first one foot and then the other and how I tried to speak to her in my high school French. How do you say, “Put your weight on your left foot.” I’ll remember Cary’s telling me his name was Cary, “like Cary Grant,” he said. I’ll miss the waitress outside La Veranda, announcing the morning special through her braced teeth. I will remember that you can still belt it out at 81. I will miss my Neosporin. And I will never forget Heinz.
Returning home, in all that means, was never better, despite my now being buried in almost two feet of snow. My thanks to all of you who’ve followed my gentleman host experience – I hope I entertained you – and my best wishes for a happy holiday and a healthy and prosperous new year. Over, and out.
But will I accept the offer to cruise again on the first leg of a world tour, from San Diego to Singapore? No. A clear and unequivocal no. First, it’s much too soon; the cruise begins in January. I need some time and distance before I might try this again. But more important to my decision to decline the offer is that Heinz is already scheduled to be the other host on that gig. Despite my best intentions and efforts to accommodate his Nazi personality, I just couldn’t go through that another time. I would never serve with Heinz again.
So would I go again? The past has taught me to never say, “Never.” But any future cruise where I was a host would have to go some place in the world I wanted to visit and there aren’t that many places left on my list. And, I would want to have a suite (read stateroom [read cabin]) of my own, a condition I doubt any cruise line will meet. So, no. I probably won’t be a host again.
Despite my emphasis here on the ordeal of my cruise, there are some aspects of it that I will remember, and miss. I will miss that great bacon at breakfast, the ripe papaya and the sweet pineapple. I will remember Henry, smiling at his table by the window in the morning and drinking his Southern Comfort Manhattan at the bar each night. I will miss the gorgeous sunrises at sea. I will remember Sasha’s giggle when he flubbed a dance lesson routine and his lead-up to a combination: “five-six, five-six-seven-eight,” just like in Chorus Line. I will miss Libby’s explosive laughter and the Dragon Lady’s upraised little finger. I will miss wine with dinner and always carrying my camera on my belt so I could capture those unexpected vignettes. I will miss Gabriele’s naughty imperiousness. I’ll remember how Claudine #2 liked to spin and twist on first one foot and then the other and how I tried to speak to her in my high school French. How do you say, “Put your weight on your left foot.” I’ll remember Cary’s telling me his name was Cary, “like Cary Grant,” he said. I’ll miss the waitress outside La Veranda, announcing the morning special through her braced teeth. I will remember that you can still belt it out at 81. I will miss my Neosporin. And I will never forget Heinz.
Returning home, in all that means, was never better, despite my now being buried in almost two feet of snow. My thanks to all of you who’ve followed my gentleman host experience – I hope I entertained you – and my best wishes for a happy holiday and a healthy and prosperous new year. Over, and out.
Phil: Welcome home. So glad you didn't miss this beautiful snow. I had a good time over the past month following your daily activities and commentary. I thoroughly enjoyed it all; your new acquaintances; your adventures; your take on the whole thing. Give your mind a few months to settle and you will remember a marvelous, challenging experience.
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