The next morning, our cruise-going lead hops out of bed and notices a silver card under his door that reads “Sorry for the wait!”. He grumbles a “finally!” and tosses the bag onto the bed. Popping it open, the contents spill forth, leaving lingerie strewn about the bed. He furiously digs through the bag and flings away a flower-adorned bikini in anger.
Ready to give the staff a piece of his mind, he stops. The maid already took the first bag with passable clothing, and the dirty clothes he had from when he arrived. His only options were to head out in nothing but towels and sheets wrapped around him or... He looked back at the open bag on his bed and groaned.
Fidgeting in his unwanted cruise attire of a breezy blouse under a knee length white dress and sandals, our lead stomps down to the staff area. A cheery sign unhelpfully announces that the staff desk is closed until noon. He shouts to the empty hallway and stomps back on deck. He just has a few hours to kill, entirely doable. Not wanting to take part in ship activities dressed like he is, he sidles up to the bar and asks the bartender if they’re serving this early. The man laughs and already has a glass on the counter, this is a cruise ship after all. Our lead flashes his room key and asks for whatever the silver ticket program will get him at this hour. The bartender puts the fancy glass down and reaches for a plain tumbler before suddenly stopping. He taps the room card and says there’s a mistake. The room card is platinum class, not silver. Ms. Winchester’s amenities are always fully covered, ma’am. The man goes to correct him, but stops. “Fully covered”? The bartender is already mixing a fancy drink and flashes a grin. Paid in full. Why this cruise ship is practically her own floating castle. Taking the almost neon orange drink from the bartender and dish of fruity candies he provided, our lead takes his room key back and heads to one of the plush lounge chairs surrounding the bar’s pool. He won’t be bought out of his anger, but free food and drinks for the trip are the least they can do to make amends.
He was in a mood, but a steady supply of bar drinks helped him relax and take in the beauty of the ocean before him. The clouds lazily rolling by, the warm breezes, the sun warm but not too warm, and the clean fresh air. Even the fruity smell of the overly sweet drinks added a tropical flavor to his senses. The wait staff were quick with refills and he was thankful for it. The drinks may have tasted good while sipping, but they left a clingy medicinal taste on the tongue when finished.
Startling awake in the lounge chair, our lead looks around to see the bar much busier and the sky changed. He took off his sunglasses and saw that the sun was no longer ahead or overhead, it was behind him and setting quickly. He dashed off, but a stomach full of drinks made him slow down by the time he reached the door inside the ship. He tugged at the tight blouse and fanned himself in the constricted elevator to help calm down. Doing a purposeful jog down to the staff desk, he found only a new note saying they’re closed for the evening. Running with all those sweet drinks gurgling in his stomach made him feel queasy and he lets out a sickly “urp”. An elderly passenger walking by says he doesn’t look good, but all this rich food on a rocking ship does that to newcomers. Order a massage, it makes everything better and calms you right down. They come right to your room, what service! That does sound good and any more running around is going to make him sick, so he returns and follows her advice.
The masseuse arrives with her gear and a table. She unwraps the plastic from a package and gives him a big fluffy robe and instructions to remove the blouse and wear the robe. After changing, he lays down on the table and slowly breathes. The masseuse starts with a shoulder massage, using warm scented oil, making his skin tingle but calming him right down. She fusses with her bag and returns with a mouth guard coated in a white goo. She explains it’s a teeth whitener and places it right in his mouth when he starts to ask about it. The goo quickly turns gummy and binds his teeth to the guard, preventing him from opening his mouth. He frantically points to it and the masseuse tells him not to fret and that by the time the massage is over, it will have done its duty and dried out so he can wash the whole thing out and have citrusy fresh breath for the rest of the trip. She pushes him back down on the table with a gentle but surprising strength and he relents. After working his arms, back, and legs, she returns to her bag and takes out several small containers. Holding his head in place with just one hand, she swiftly works several creams into his skin, gingerly applying some around his eyes and on his eyelids. When she paints around the mouth guard, it feels electric and hot. He lurches back and she drops the small bottle in surprise. He sees a pinkish red powder puff out of it and rapidly waves his hand in front of his mouth to cool it down. She rushes to her bag and applies a jelly to his lips and they quickly stop burning. Oh, dear, it appears he’s had an allergic reaction to the makeup. She rarely ever sees that. It’s the cruise line’s own special formula designed to be smudge and water proof so guests don’t have to worry about looking less than their best while playing in the water and sweating during ship activities. She promises she’ll be back tomorrow to check on the swelling but it looks like everything will be fine. With her gone, he rushes to the bathroom to see that his lips are swollen, plump and puckered up. A reddish-pink from the powder and shiny wet from the jelly. He barely registers the eyeliner and faint purple eyeshadow as he pries his teeth from the mouth guard and spits out the now caked powder. Speaking to his reflection, he comments that his teeth do look the whitest they’ve been in ages, and his throat tingles from the cool citrus gel’s fumes, making his voice sound odd and soft.