Friday, March 29, 2013

SBXIII Day Six: Winning and Stripping

For the first of our last two days at sea, Tyler and I quietly met in the library in order to hike to Deck 12 for the 6:29 AM sunrise where we watched pink and yellow streak across the sky as a fiery orange ball inched its way from the depths of the deep blue of the ocean. 
We attempted a few sunrise selfies, but Tyler suffers from "squinty eye disorder" when it comes to pictures with flash so most of them were immediately deleted, and judged others for their obvious sunrise selfie taking in a truly hypocritical way. However, we were following the rule of having another person in your selfie, transforming the image into a groupie. 
We graced the Windjammer for an early breakfast and made the exciting discovery that the sourdough rolls we'd been devouring at every dinner also were available for breakfast. I stocked up. 
After an invigorating nap, I recovered from such an early morning by laying out and soaking sun into my already slightly sun-blistered skin. 
Tyler challenged me to a game of putt-putt on Deck 14 and I won. This victory earned me a trophy from a cheesy boyfriend upon our Norman arrival. My immediate reward on ship was a plate of crispy fries and a dip in one of the four hot tubs. 
I rested up for a feast of Caesar salad and TWO entrees. I bashfully asked Tyler order my second entree for me so that Victoria, our waitress, would withhold judgement. He complied and I devoured linguine pomodoro and Thai chicken with glee. 
This was the second formal night on The Mariner and I somehow managed to suck in enough to squeeze into a skirt I hadn't managed to wear since my TCU days. That was just another victory to add to my growing collection from this winning day. 
I used my time wisely between dinner and evening entertainment to begin my English reading, Bleak House, by Charles Dickens. Reading Dickens on a cruise ship is only slightly better than reading Dickens anywhere else. 
I was relieved when it was time to gather in Studio B for The Quest game show. The director of the game divided the stands into 8 groups. I was a part of Group 3, but mostly laughed as I watched the leaders of each group struggle to fulfill some of the hilarious requests. 
"I need to see a real tattoo from one person in each group."
"Two men from each group dirty dancing."
"Two men from each group holding hands and skipping."
"5 men's shirts from each group, not on their owner."
"A pair of dentures from each group, not in the owner's mouth."
"5 women's bras from each group."
I may or may not have participated in the last mandate by shimmying out of my black bandeau bra, tossing it down to our group leader, and curling up in my seat, arms crossed tightly over my chest, until it returned to me. 
Unfortunately, my quasi-stripping was fruitless as our group did not win The Quest. I comforted myself with the fact that I won putt-putt and A Very Lucky Girl had one more day to drown her shame in sunshine and sea. 


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