Caribbean Stories and Tips

What Do you Get When you Take a Cruise?

Sung to the tune of “What Do You Get” by Bert Bacharach.

What do you get
When you take a cruise?
A ship with a pin
To burst your bubble
That's what you get
For all your trouble
I'll never take a cruise again
I'll never take a cruise again

What do you get
When you take a cruise?
You get enough germs
To catch pneumonia
After you do,
they’ll just disown ya
I'll never take a cruise again
I'll never take a cruise again

Don't tell me
What it's all about
'cause I've been there
And I'm glad I'm out
Out of that ship
That’ll just confine you
That is why I'm here
To remind you

What do you get
When you take a cruise?
You get enough tears
To fill an ocean
That's what you get
To our mortification.
I'll never take a cruise again
I'll never take a cruise again

What do you get
When you take a cruise?
You only get lies
And pain and sorrow
So for at least
Until tomorrow
I'll never take a cruise again
I'll never take a cruise again

On the third day of the cruise I developed a horrible case of bronchitis. After two and a half months of the South Beach diet, consisting largely of celery and chicken, I stared down at a plate of lobster tail and fillet and I couldn’t eat a bite. I couldn’t go snorkeling. I couldn’t even muster the energy to read a book. On about day six, Guy got sick. He saw the ship’s doctor and $800 later, we found out the malady was a “bacterial infection.” Having watched about a
hundred episodes of CSI on the closed circuit TV in the cabin, Guy turned into Gil Grissom and determined that the dozens of people with hacking coughs seemed to consist entirely of those with cabins on the 7th deck. Yes, we were residents of lucky seven, where we spent most of our time, medicated and miserable in a windowless room.

“But wait,” as Dan Ackroyd once said about the Bass-o-Matic, “there’s more!” After 11 days, the ship was returning to Miami and we found some satisfaction in the fact that we were still alive. But one more medical emergency (announced over the ship’s loudspeaker system with “Stretcher Team to the Terrace Café”) caused the captain to turn around and head back to the Dominican Republic so that one of the ancient mariners could get medical attention. The glass was still half full because we weren’t the ones to be deposited in a third world hospital. We weren’t too cheery, however, after discovering that the necessary changes in airfare would cost us another $500,
traveling in tiny planes buffeted by thunderstorms and necessitating a stopover in Nashville. The Miami Airport could only be described as bedlam and a genuinely frightening experience.

I love to cruise and we're going to try again. But I think that one more "sick ship" experience will cure of us of ever wanting to do it again.

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