I’m Going on a Cruise to Hell

No really.

That isn’t a joke. That is a legitimate place in one of the seven ports we’re visiting. Apparently it’s got a bunch of jagged rocks, which I never associated with Hell, but hey, I’ll defer expertise to the pirates who named it. They’re probably in Hell right now, after all. Unless they’re some kind of pious pirates, parading positivity p-across p-oceans.

Ha ha ha-larious.

Cruises are expensive, did you know? I’m sharing a two hundred square foot room with my two best friends and it’s just shy of two grand. To get an individual room it’s nearly three. Craziness. I never want to go to Hell alone. I want my friends right there with me.

It’s a very small space to spend 12 days in, but there are tons of things to do on the ship and in the ports that it’s unlikely we’ll do much more than sleep in the room. At first my best friend was concerned, two boys and a girl in the same room for an extended period, but our other friend didn’t care at all and I reminded him we all used to live together and him and I have shared rooms and couches and beds too many times to remember.

He warmed up to the idea. There’s two beds and a couch anyway, so we don’t even have to share a bed [which I agree would be a little odd for such an extended period, although, the last time we stayed in a hotel there was only one bed and that was whatever].

Part of me would like to sleep on the deck of the ship anyway. The sky is going to be crazy in the middle of the ocean with no light pollution, plus, I’ll be able to see different constellations than I can where I live. I’m very excited. I want to buy a telescope and a star map and be an amateur astronomer. Maybe I’ll see a quasar!

Apparently we’re going to drink on the cruise, and eat processed sugars. There’s even talk of partaking in another vice I’d never even consider doing stateside. What happens on the cruise stays on the cruise. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

My roommate thinks it’s a bad idea for us to be in the same room. That the quarters are too close, the atmosphere too starlit, the inhibitions too lowered. She’s concerned for me and the feelings I may or may not have when we set sail nine months from now. I’m not sure there’s anything to worry about, though, just last night he was saying how great it would be if he met his wife and I met my husband on the cruise. I suppose it would be.

I hope I don’t hate her. I wonder if she’ll be secure enough not to be intimidated by me. I wonder if any marry-able guy will be secure enough not to be intimidated by him. Unlikely.

Anyway, it’s likely I’ll get a great tan. That’s something. Also, there’s a robot bartender.

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