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Intention is awash on cruise

Ah, the Graveyard of Vacation Intentions. Be it ever so full.

You head off to your third-ever cruise, intending to have a sophisticated and glamorous time. You’ve pictured yourself in flowing resort wear topped off by a big hat, perhaps with a knotted scarf underneath, looking all cosmopolitan; sipping something scrumptious at a table in the dining room or in an outdoor deck chair; waving your hand when you want Garcon to come and attend to you again.

You were going to be your own Great Gatsby/Gatsby-ess. For a minute there, it looked like you would be able to pull it off.

Yes. Well.

You showed up at the Lido Deck party, intending to find a lounge chair and observe. Next thing you knew, you were doing hard-core Zumba moves per the cruise entertainers’ instructions, sweating out your “sophisticated/ glamorous” attire.

You showed up for what you thought would be a fancy-schmancy dinner in the dining room. And it was … until the maitre d’ announced, “OK, ladies and gentleman, it’s showtime!” in a comically sinister voice. Then the music started. Then the wait staff donned colorful jackets and started dancing on the stairs … and on the tabletops. The next thing you knew, your table waiter got you and your table mates up and dancing with him to some hip-hop song. Nearby diners took pictures of you and, as you cavorted, you thought of how very glad you were that you’d never see them again. At the same time, you couldn’t help but wonder what stranger’s Facebook photo album now features your frenzied countenance.

And about that clothing in which you intended to live out your fantasies of opulent dignity: Well, you dutifully ironed those garments before roll-packing them, heeding online, pre-cruise instructions not to bring any personal irons on board. Trouble was, you found when you opened your suitcase that just about everything had rewrinked. Unlike hotel rooms, irons were not supplied in the cruise cabins … and there was exactly one laundry room, one iron and one ironing board per deck on this big ship. So you sneaked out to iron at, like, 1 and 2 in the morning … and even then, you were liable to encounter some other passenger who’d suffered your fate, shown up with their wrinkled clothing and, when seeing you occupying the iron, muttered a cuss word and left.You considered blowing the extra money to let the ship’s staff handle that business for you.

And yes, you slipped a bit on your vow not to eat everything available in the dining room, viaroom service or at the 10 zillion different buffets on the Lido Deck. The main reason you didn’t slip more than you did is because at your age, rich food now has consequences.

You conclude that any Great Gatsby types would have had the money to opt for a cruise ship that didn’t have such events as a Men’s Hairy Chest Contest; didn’t feature so many fellow passengers who opted not to dress in accordance with their ages/ sizes; and didn’t offer a drink in a large, plastic container in the shape of a blowfish. And despite your best intentions, you hit the $10 watch area in the ship’s mall and bought a doll of the ship’s mascot.

And those posed ship’s photographer pictures? The “formal night” photos of you came out hideous. The one of you and your spouse with the dude in the cheesy pirate’s costume came out just great.

The one area in which you managed to maintain a shred of your dignity: the ship’s cruise director-led games and contests. But if your spouse hadn’t been present to refuse to partake, there’s no telling what your fate might have been.

Actually, you’re glad you danced. You’d dutifully packed workout clothes and new tennis shoes, looking forward to climbing aboard the state of-the-art exercise machines (complete with television monitors) … you even pondered whether it would be best to hit the gym at night before bed or in the morning. But by the time the trip was over, the only time you’d invested in the gym was a short, self-guided tour just to see how the place looked. It did make you feel a bit better that there weren’t many people working out when you visited. Their good intentions had probably joined yours in that graveyard.

By the time the trip was over, you felt like Jim Jupiter, the TV fitness guy in the “Dead Men Don’t Do Aerobics” episode of the sitcom Married, With Children … the episode where Peg Bundy drags “the Healthiest Man in Chicago” down to her unhealthy lifestyle, with tragicomic results.

Yep, so much for those intentions. But, boy, did you have a nice time. Sophistication and glamour can be overrated.

Set a course for e-mail: [email protected]

Style, Pages 49 on 05/26/2013

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