Sun, sand, turquoise tropical waters, 24-hour pizza and ice cream… it sounds like a dream, doesn’t it? It is. Especially when you’re traveling with your older sister and your mom, two people who have the ability to singlehandedly make any ordinary occasion, to say the very least, extraordinary.
To celebrate my sister’s milestone birthday this year, we arranged to take her on a cruise to the Bahamas. Renee has, until now, never had the joy of steaming along on a floating Las Vegas resort, so it was particularly exciting to watch her eyes absorb all of the neon lights, read the gluttonous menus and revel in the slothful lifestyle of our little adventure at sea.
You can probably recall from previous posts my extreme affection for soft-serve ice cream, but what you don’t know is that it runs in the family. We are also a clan of chronic snackers, on which I’m blaming the extra 3 or so ”souvenier” pounds I’ve returned home with. Everyone knows that you can nosh your way through a cruise, but hardly anyone really gives you the pathetic details of their sorry, over-indulgent foray into gastrointestinal chaos. The following is a single day’s account of where my 3 pounds might have come from. I promise you’ll find yourself speculating how far I am rounding down the wreckage. I’ll never tell, but if you see me in person, you'll probably be able to without my help.
9AM - room-service breakfast, taken in stateroom: smoked salmon, fruit, bread products, coffee, yogurt, mimosas
10AM - breakfast #2: coffee, fruit, bacon
11AM – ice cream break, coffee
12:30PM – lunch: jerk chicken, curried vegetable salad, calamari fritters, beef in puff pastry, pizza, fruit, ice cream….
After reaching her max, my sister seems appalled at the fact that I, friends, am a bottomless pit. It's a talent, really.
2PM – ice cream break #2
4PM – ice cream break #3
5PM – visit to the sushi bar (cultivating my very own maki roll, located just above my belt line)
7PM – dinner (2 starters, 1 entrée (or two, if you’re Renee), and as many as 7 desserts before Welly, our waiter, begins jogging in place as he prepares to log roll each of us out into the foyer. Apparently, we’re not the only ones regretting that last scoop of bread pudding.
Get your own dessert table.
9PM – the last, is-it-even-possible ice cream break of the night. Probably.
Add a couple of drinks in there, and you’ve got something like 8 million calories. Or 4 pant sizes, which explains why I can’t even fit into my stretchy pants.
So there you have it, folks. I have more stories to tell and other pictures to share, but right now it’s after 2PM, and I need to go find a soft serve machine somewhere. What can I say? Some habits die hard, if they die at all.