Chapter 8 Sea Day, attack of the trifles!
Waking up to nothing but the sea is awesome. Last year we went on a three-day cruise, and we woke up to 8 million pineapples (I know, I counted) being loaded onto the boat in Port Canaveral. There is something about the sound of a forklift that all but erases the serenity of the previous day at
Castaway Cay.
This time, it was different. The whole pineapple experience was to be delayed for an entire day.
I left Lionel sleeping in bed, as usual, and popped out onto the veranda. Water, water, water! Were we even moving? It was so calm and still compared to that first night, when we were practically shot out of a canon towards Nassau. Hey look, a boat off in the distance! I wondered if we were on the shipping lines.
View from the veranda:
I lolled around until Lionel woke up, finally having a chance to flip through the magazines that I had brought with me. I was literally 10 pages in to Real Simple Meals when Lionel burst out of the bed and demanded a Mochaccino. I one-upped him and demanded a chocolate Mickey waffle. We looked at one another, neither of us about to budge. There was only one possible solution: send him to Cove Café and me to the buffet. We would meet back at the rendezvous point at 0800. Deploy! Deploy!
I ran for the secret staircase and for the first time on the entire cruise emerged into Beach Blanket Buffet when it was OPEN. Yay, me! No time to celebrate, must find waffles! Sadly, I realize that because BBB is not in fact closed, there are other customers wandering about. They are all on a cruise. On a SEA DAY. Before their coffee. I knew then and there that I would not lay hands on that Mickey waffle anytime in the near future.
Because I am nice, I got into line (instead of barreling straight for the chocolaty goodness in the form of a mouse head)
behind the SLOWEST PEOPLE ON GODS GREEN EARTH. I could see my destiny there they were, smiling at me, looking fresh and delicious and ready to be dunked in syrup and have their ears bitten off, and these two old biddies in front of me cant decide if they want pineapple or not. Do we want it? They reach. No, maybe we shouldnt
They retract. Nah, Ill go ahead. They reach again. Hmmmm
.perhaps an apple instead. They retract again.
Oh for the love of God, woman, Im building you a stinking fruit platter and you can pick and choose what you want AWAY FROM MY WAFFLES. Go! Sheesh!
With the fruit behind them, they moved on to pancakes. I thought my head would explode. Be nice, Erica, be nice
.theyre retired and they dont move as fast. I practice amazing restraint by NOT suggesting that they get out of the buffet line until they decide what they actually want. Then they start bickering over bacon. OH. MY. GOD. Are you kidding me? I couldnt take it any more, so I leaned waaaaaaaaaay forward, politely said excuse me, and loaded up my plate with Mickey heads and syrup. Im sure I heard cheering as I darted out the doors towards the coffee beverage of the Gods, but that may have just been in my own head.
I might have been late to our meeting point had Lionel not discovered the pastry case.
There we were
.frosty coffee in hand, waffles on one side, delicious pastries on the other, and a brunch that started in one hour. Now was the time to make some tough decisions. In the end, as you may well have guessed, we chose very poorly and ate it all. And we would not take it back for the world.
We met Steve and April back in the rooms, spare mochaccino in hand. She was thrilled at the gesture, so we chose not to tell her that some of those pastries mentioned up above COULD have been hers if we were not such piggies. A little wandering around, a little looking at Shutters, and suddenly it was time for Brunch at Palo!
Steve and April at Palo:
Ah, Palo. I would eat every meal there if it were possible. We were seated at a window booth and I noticed the boat that I had seen from the verandah was now directly behind us. For some unknown reason that struck me as cool. Our server introduced himself and then gave us the grand tour, which seemed to take hours as he was CLEARLY hung over. He was a nice fellow, and he was trying very hard, but we could tell that he had drawn the short straw for the early shift and was now paying the price.
The food? Spectacular. The champagne? Delicious. (I had a Mimosa with Raspberry Stoli, and a Bellini) The waiter? Slow as all get-out. The buffet was lovely, but we also wanted to sample a few things from the menu so we attempted to pace ourselves. HA! Pace ourselves! At Palo! That is hysterical
remember, we had the GELATO KING with us. We had big shoes to fill.
We ordered approximately one of everything, including this weird-but-oddly-tasty sweet pizza, and would have gotten a few pictures of the beautiful display had we not been so busy gorging ourselves that we blew up like that blueberry girl in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
I have a confession to make: this is the first and only time we did not leave an extra tip at Palo. While the experience was grand, the service was beyond sub-par for Palo and for Disney, and we felt that the $40 service gratuity he would be getting from us was far more than he deserved. I think that is the only time we have EVER had bad service at Palo. And only the second time we had bad service on the Wonder. Both in the same cruise! Were they training people or something?
We rolled down the hall and back to the room where we got the brilliant idea to change into our bathing suits. Thankfully we resisted the urge to look in the mirror afterwards, or we might have made a trip down to the infirmary, in the scary bowels of the ship. As an aside, I cant hear the term bowels referring to anything without getting a really nasty picture in my head. Can you? Ok, carry on.
We did not, however, go to the pool, for somehow time had passed in tremendous increments between when we started our gorging experience at brunch and this moment, which was 20 minutes before the
Castaway Club reception was due to begin.
Woohoo! More free food! Wheres a vomitorium when you need one?
Not being one to pass up anything, I scored a few bottled waters and some mickey-head rice crispie treats from the freebie table to save for later. The little reception was fun, we saw a few DISers and met someone who had been on the inaugural sailing of the Wonder. And something else:
BARB AND TONY WERE THERE.
Holy crap. I was star struck. Id been reading their site for almost a year now and I wanted their lives. 52 sailings in less than 10 years. Healthcare is CLEARLY in the wrong business. Barb and Tony were very nice, normal people, and I was a blubbering idiot. One of the little missions on the Castaway Club scavenger hunt was to find 3 people who had sailed more than 10 times. Barb started to give me her name, and I was like well, DUH, I already have YOU TWO I never felt more like a stalker in my entire life.
Shaking it off, I returned to the celebration and proceeded not to win any of the prizes that were auctioned off. But I did get to chat to Captain Henry, and that was awesome. He seems like such a genuinely nice man who loves his job. I would love it to!
Oh, and of course I forgot my camera. So just pretend that there is a pic of Barb and Tony up there, and that there is one of the captain right here. K?
When the reception was over, we went back to the room to change BACK OUT of our swimwear, for it was time for that art auction I had read about in the first days Navigator!? Well, you cant simply arrive in a bathing suit and expect to have anyone take you seriously. Plus
..a martini goes better with a cute little skirt than an ever-increasingly-smaller bikini. Yep, according to the Navigator, you get a free martini and $95 work of art just for attending!
What a load of crap that was. All we got was a paper with some numbers on it, and three tags that said reserve. Phooey.
Now, the artwork was very nice for the most part. It was nothing that a young couple like ourselves could even DREAM of affording at this stage in our lives (lets put it this way: it was either a painting, or doing ANYTHING AT ALL for the next two years, including eating), but it was fun to look at and to imagine in different places in our home making our furniture look shabby.
Not being ones to stick around at a foo-foo art auction when the liquor isnt free, we headed back up to Palo for tea. Apparently, we had not eaten enough food mere hours ago. Time for cakes! *wild clapping ensues*
Some like tea and some do not. I happen to ADORE tea. My husband and April both like tea. Steve, on the other hand, does not. He was a good sport and tolerated the little strawberry tartlets and currant scones, and he even suffered through the dainty little white porcelain teapots. When the trifle arrived, however, the look of indifference in his eyes quickly turned to fear. Why I did not snap a picture of that beastly concoction I will never know. Perhaps it was because I was afraid of frightening small children; perhaps it is because no one should ever have to gaze upon such a ghastly dessert. But I will tell you this: I TRIED IT. Oh yes. And it tasted just like it looked blue and purple.
After running scared from Palo (I swear, that trifle chased us for three decks) we decided to part ways and have a little private couple time before the shows and dinner.
Coming next: omigod, we forgot to pack!
Hopefully I won't be the tastiest one of the bunch (or the girl bringing up the rear)....
