Semester at Sea: 66 days, 7 countries, 9 credit hours (obviously the aspect that sold me), 711 eager “students,” and Captain Kingsley. What’s the catch? Allow me. This ship could be considered a sailing vagina. With the female to male ratio being 75% to 25%, I think it’s safe to say that there’s an underwhelming amount of testosterone aboard. It’s a lesbian’s paradise. Too bad my ship sails in the other direction.
Today marks my seventh day aboard the ship and one of my new girlfriends Melissa and I are proud to say that we’re well through the first column of our second drinking voucher card. I don’t want to toot my own horn and brag about the fact that we were the first ones aboard to get our second voucher cards. This means that we’re fun.
Let me explain these “drinking voucher cards.” I know the idea of having a drinking limitation of five drinks a night is a foreign concept to most, but that’s not necessarily something to be embarrassed about. First of all, one drink can be defined as either one 3.2% beer (last time I checked we were sailing across the Atlantic, not Utah) or one 4 OZ. glass of either red or white wine. I don’t care who you are (this excludes everyone who lives in Boulder) twenty ounces of wine will get your sea leg back for at least an hour. Notice I said sea leg. Twenty ounces isn’t worthy of both legs, especially when your time is managed for you. Dinner begins at five and lasts until seven thirty, and you’re allowed two of your drinks with dinner. Pub nights begin at nine and last until eleven, and you’re allowed your remaining three drinks during this time period. Seems a bit problematic, huh? For the average voyager, yes, but when you’re desperate intellectually advanced, like myself, you become innovative and find alternative ways to scratch your itch.
Speaking of innovative ideas, allow me to present to you the idea of hoarding. One might ask “Bass, what do you mean by hoarding,” and I would informatively respond with “hoarding is an art; and like art, hoarding gets more beautiful with time.” What I mean by this is with time you begin to learn the tricks of the trade. The only difference between hoarding and art is that you’re not supposed to rush art, but you rush hoarding. The faster I hoard my wine, the sooner I’m able to belly back up to the bar and start spitting game at the two hottest guys on the ship: Vijay and Ahbit. I’m beginning to think that they’re catching onto my ways, but if you know me you know I hate secrets. It’s really quite beautiful how our system works. I walk up to the “bar” and greet Ahbit and Vijay and before I can even finish telling them the specific location of my room Vijay has a glass of white wine waiting for me. I then take that glass and hoard it until 8:55 P.M. then it’s bottoms up. I get a guilty conscious at times defying the voyager handbook, but then I remind myself that I don’t care.
As you all know, Melissa and I were the first ones to request a second drinking voucher. This isn’t the first thing I was “#1” at on the ship. On the seventh deck of the ship rests a fully loaded Spa. If you recall, I had an early boarding time in Halifax, so I was unpacked and situated in my room before most people even boarded. Initially, I went up to the Spa to just check it out and was pleasantly surprised. So surprised that I ended up booking a trip to Brazil. I’ve always been a compulsive traveler. My flight attendant, Jovi, was the one who informed me that I was the first costumer to the spa. Jovi and I were well acquainted by the end of my flight, and as she instructed me to a different compromising position she told me “you are #1,” referring to being the first costumer, of course. Obviously I knew what she was referring to, but you can’t help but to get a little cocky when your legs are in spread eagle and someone is telling you that you’re #1. I was just happy that I was able to add another country to my list of travels this summer. Semester at Sea: Spain, Italy, Croatia, Greece, Turkey, Egypt, Morocco, and Brazil. I’m so cultured.
Anyways, we’re two days away from Spain and everyone is getting rightfully anxious. My plans aren’t set in stone yet, but I have no doubts that I’ll make it a memorable first port. To be honest, I think I’m just excited about putting my highly anticipated money belt to good use.
Day 3 aboard the ship and the only excuse for the sway in my step is the waves rocking my shit. Don’t get me wrong, I signed up for this trip anticipating the educational and cultural experiences of a lifetime, but there’s only so much culture on a ship full of mostly Americans… and class hasn’t started yet. Let’s just say, I’m about to start confiscating bottles of mouthwash.
The first few days aboard is utilized by the faculty and crew to pretty much reiterate every single bit of information we were required to know prior to embarkation. It blows my mind how many different ways one question could possibly be re-worded and re-asked by my deceivingly intelligent shipmates. For example, in regards to the honor code and plagiarism, who knew you had to be told more than “don’t do it” to get it ingrained in your brain to just not do it. I was about to throw myself overboard. I better knock on wood… I’m probably going to be that girl out of the seven hundred and eleven students aboard who gets kicked off for accidentally plagiarizing (Bass, 2010).
Let’s take a few steps back, eh? My stay in Canada was short and sweet. After a long day of traveling, I checked into my hotel late Sunday evening and called it a night. Monday was a great day to start off my trip. Obviously, the first tourist attraction I found myself enjoying was Halifax’s own Garrison’s Brewery. After a nice afternoon getting to know some fellow SASers, we all freshened up and later met up at a bar called Cheers. Cheers, where everyone knows your name, right? Wrong. It was the first time in a long time that I barely knew anyone’s name and vice versa, but it was a lot of fun and really exciting! My 8 A.M. boarding time came super early the next morning, but I managed to cake some make-up on and stumble down to the harbor with my two suitcases on time. Plus, I was still buzzing from the night before which made waiting in an hour-long line and meeting people who were struggling just as much as I was easy and enjoyable.
After 3 days of being aboard the MV Explorer, this is what I know: I reside in room 4134 with my new roommate, Elizabeth, sobriety reminds me of my early childhood, port side in ship lingo means the left side, I forgot the ship lingo for the right side, aft in ship lingo means the back of the ship (I remember this because aft and ass both begin with an A), I forgot the ship lingo for the front of the ship, we’re six days away from docking in Barcelona, Spain, and our first pub night is tonight!! Since we’re only allowed a respected number of drinks on pub nights and I’m not eight years old anymore, I plan on fasting all day and not taking my seasick medication all in the name of preparation.
As I lay myself to sleep, I pray to the sea gods my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, give my drinking cards to my new friends to take. Send my love home, maybe a message in a bottle… that’s all.
For the past four weeks, my days have been quite predictable. My mornings begin promptly at 10:15 A.M., which gives me exactly 15 minutes to figure out where I am and how I got there before it’s time to take my birth control daily vitamins at 10:30 A.M. I figured since I took a month hiatus from classes and… well, I never had a job… I would create some consistency in my life, and what’s more consistent than waking up between breakfast and lunch every single day?
Myself more than anyone hates interrupting daily regimens, especially when they’re my own, but I’m going to have to pull the plug on my morning routine of waking up between the hours of ten and eleven and get a life. Actually, I resent myself for saying that… I have a life, and in between volunteering my taste buds to every restaurant in Boulder that has a decent happy hour and hydrating my BAC, I live it well. Anyways, the point is that Sunday will put a stop to my demanding schedule and I’ll finally be able to take a well-deserved vacation away from Boulder Summer. I arrive to Halifax, Nova Scotia Sunday evening, and board the MV Explorer Tuesday morning to begin crossing the Atlantic. Destination: Spain. Duration: Nine days. Detoxification: N/A.
There’s been a lot of preparation for my trip, but nothing could have prepared me for the information I found out today. Prior to boarding the ship, everyone is required to take an online alcohol prevention course. Standard procedure, right? Yeah. Well, I’ve been apart of organizations before where a similar course is required, but none other than this specific course has ever equated the caloric value of the number of respected drinks one might consume in a week to cheeseburgers. I understand that this course is supposed to be preventive, but what I’m confused about is what it’s supposed to be preventing. Thoughts? When I fraudulently confessed to how many drinks I consumed in the past week and found out that it’s the caloric equivalent to seven cheeseburgers, the only thing I wanted to cut cold cow out of my life was beef. I thought about the extra LBz I was trying to shed and came to the conclusion that the only way to do so was to become a vegetarian. I’m just glad they didn’t compare the number of drinks one consumes in a week to something of importance, like cranberry juice. Then what’s agirl to chase with?
So with only five sweet days left before I leave, I live by only one rule: When in America, do as the Americans do. Since I’ve recently proclaimed vegetarianism, I’ll substitute my Big Mac for a glass of cranberry juice and enjoy as much reality television as possible for the next five days.
