Wedding Cruise

A couple of weeks ago, our youngest son and his fiancé got married aboard ship during a Caribbean cruise. Lots of family made the wedding cruise their summer vacation. Very cool. Well no, actually, very hot and humid.

My wife and I were worried about gaining weight because we knew great food of all types is available on the ship (at no extra charge) 24/7. So we both made a solemn vow that we would not eat more than ten meals a day.

I, of course, found loopholes in my vow. For example: dessert is not a meal. Neither is ice cream. Nor iced mocha coffee (with ice cream). And one slice of pizza is officially just a snack, not a meal. Even when I put ice cream on it.

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One of our wedding cruise shore excursions was the island of Roatan. Going up the mountain on a strange home-made “bus”, our delightful guide answered a question about crime. Very interesting. He said Roatan is virtually crime-free, for three reasons: 1) As soon as a crime is committed all air and sea traffic is stopped, so there’s no way for the perp to leave the island. 2) Everybody knows everybody, and nobody wants crime, so they tell the police who did it. 3) Prisoners in jail are not fed. The bad guy must beg for food from family and friends.

I love their system. Did I mention Roatan has no crime?

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In Key West Florida stores, we saw lots of clever, amusing signs and T-shirts. But, we were also assaulted by repulsive X-rated and/or anti-American signs and T-shirts. Right there in public. For all the little kids from all the family-oriented cruise ships to see. (Why do Radlibs© find it necessary to force their tasteless views on everyone else?)

Note to Cruise Lines: Stop including Key West as a family port-of-call until they clean it up.

Note to Key West leadership: Clean it up!

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 An entertaining sign we saw in a souvenir shop:

Unattended Children Will Be

Given Espresso and a Free Kitten

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 And I’d swear this sign in the Florida keys was written about my family back home in Blythe:

We Don’t Hide Crazy. We Just Put It

on the Porch and Give it a Drink.

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 We saw this sign at a great roadside coffee house:

We Don’t Speak Klingon, Pig Latin, or Starbuck.

So Please Just Order a Small, Medium, or Large.

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 A sign in Cozumel:

Build the Wall.

Make Bahamas Pay for it.

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 By the way… all the crazies in my family jog, which is why I can truthfully say, insanity runs in my family.

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 Back to Roatan. Iguanas were everywhere. On the tour bus, our guide told us everybody in Roatan eats iguana. As expected, one of the tourists asked if it tastes like chicken.

The guide smiled and said, “No, iguana doesn’t taste like chicken. It tastes like iguana.”

Then he told us, in great detail (T.M.I.) how iguana is prepared as the main course for dinner. That sickening description immediately halted all playful conversation. The bus remained quiet the rest of the way up the mountain. Except for occasional heaving.

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 When the Roatan “bus” finally arrived at our jungle destination, Gumbalimba Park, our guide cheerfully said, “This first stop is where you can experience the wild monkey preserves.” After his iguana story, I was afraid wild monkey preserves was something you spread on toast.

 Oh my Lord, I thought. What will we get on the lunch buffet? Snake steak? Iguana-salad sandwiches? Parrot sliders? Deep-fried sloth on a stick?

I just wanted to go back to the ship and pout.

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Well, the monkey preserve turned out to be delightful. Those cute little furry things (the tourist children) had a great time. So did the tiny Capuchin monkeys, who stole hats and sunglasses, and scurried up trees, giggling. (So did the tourist children.)

My wife and I smiled at a momma and baby monkey roaming the shoulders of a fellow tourist. I pointed and laughed. Then I stopped pointing and screamed when a monkey jumped me from behind, knocked my hat off, and explored my head. I think he was searching for leftover ice cream.

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