One can't stay on vacation forever, which is too bad. Eventually the cruise ends, the vacation time is spent, and it's back to the real world. But the great thing about taking a cruise is that when it's over, you are very relaxed, probably as much as you've ever been. A small dose of 'island time' will do that to you. Stress? What's that? It's all gone.
So after a week of sunshine, salt air, umbrella drinks, and total relaxation, it's time to head back to your home port, wherever that may be.
The last night at sea is always kind of mellow. I'm kind of sad that the trip is ending, but then again, by then I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed and working my way through all that duty-free booze. Plus, by that time, I'm usually down to the end of my clean laundry, signaling the official end of the trip.
Debarkation day is the suckiest part of the cruise. You get up early with nothing to look forward to. No more beautiful sunrises at sea. No more coffee on deck first thing in the morning, no more lounging by the pool checking out all the bikinis from behind the anonymity of dark sunglasses, and no more interesting dinner conversations with a group of new friends who just seven short days before you never knew existed.
Instead, you get up, shower, get dressed, and hope that you remembered to keep a belt, clean underwear, and comfy shoes out of your checked baggage that was picked up the night before.
Then there's a somber breakfast in the dining room, and the balance of the morning is spent lounging around in the public areas, waiting for the P.A. system to announce your deck color so you can finally be on your way. The best part of that is listening to the Purser's Desk announcements as they go all collection-agency on people who haven't yet settled their Sail & Sign accounts.
Yeah, don't even think about trying to ditch your bill. You will be publicly humiliated.
Finally the anticipated--yet dreaded--announcement comes and you're free to leave the ship for the last time. Once you exit the gangway, it's off to the baggage claim warehouse to find your luggage amongst about 5000 other suitcases. It's then that you realize that 99% of people in the world also have black luggage.
Once you find your stuff, it's time to run the US Customs gauntlet. I'm always sweating that part, because I'm usually about ten bottles of booze above the legal limit, and I've heard they take a dim view of the several boxes of Cuban cigars I've got stashed between four or five different suitcases, my sisters unwittingly enlisted as my drug mules.
But we don't look like we're up to any nefarious misdeeds, and our declaration forms are always in order, so we've always gotten waved through with hardly a second look.
Then it's off to the airport, and I can tell you, the mood in the limo this time around is certainly more subdued than it was just a week earlier. Once we get through check-in and security, it's time to play the waiting game before flying back to the real world.
I'm sure that after this next cruise, I'll fly back to Nashville with the family, and spend the night there, reliving the adventures of the previous week, cementing the experiences forever in my memory bank.
Who knows, we may even find our way to the Pancake Pantry or Monell's for breakfast that next morning--two of my favorite places to get my brunch grub on.
But as much as I'd love to linger in Nashville for a few days, reality dictates that I get back to Vegas and get back to work as soon as possible. (After breakfast, of course) But the cool thing about that is I'll be on a plane full of people heading off on their own vacation adventures. They'll all be amped up and ready to get their Vegas on, and I'll be the only guy peacefully snoozing away for the entire four-hour flight, my outlook 180 degrees different than everyone else on the flight.
But then, after a week of seeing all the sights I love, topping off the lifeblood tanks of my Caribbean Soul, with the people that mean the most to me, I'll find myself back where I belong. My second-favorite place on earth.
Mikey
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