Cruise: (v) to sail about on a pleasure trip.
I stumbled upon a little piece of personal revelation, which after much thought, might just end up being worthy of universal application.
(Not everything I think falls into this category. Many things that I pursue pertain mostly to me, and would not be helpful or even interesting, to an outsider.)
For instance, my daily regimen in approaching healthy eating would certainly bore the most prideful listener.
But what I’ve discovered is that nothing in life has immediate appeal—nor is it dead-on-arrival.
Each one of us ends up talking ourselves into everything.
So it only stands to reason that we talk ourselves out of other things.
For me, one of those things is a cruise on a ship.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with such an adventure. There have even been television shows produced extolling the pleasures of food, fun and romance—even promising that the boat itself might just be “love.”
But somehow or another I have talked myself out of this.
I talked myself into being a musician. Honestly, there’s little that’s more tedious.
I convinced myself of the glories of fatherhood. Yet this did not happen until children were afoot.
But I’ve also talked myself out of… Let me see:
How about a daily run? I think a daily run would be possible for me if there were someone trailing me slowly in a jeep, firing a machine gun at my heels. Yes, I would need adequate motivation.
So as I think about a cruise, the following four things immediately annoy me:
Walking up the plank to get on.
I don’t know why. It just seems like I’m lining up in a prison yard for daily gruel.
To make money, a cruise ship must have little cabins, and of course, the smaller they make them the more people they can put onto the ship, and therefore, the more profit.
I am a big man, constantly perturbed by living in a medium world.
A constant barrage of food.
Perhaps I’m odd, but after I eat, the last thing I want to do is go dancing in the Mambo Room.
Doesn’t that sound horrible? Where is the time for digestion?
And finally, the pool.
If the boat is for love, then people are peering extra carefully at one another for the potential of unexplainable romantic entanglements.
When I go swimming, I’m thinking more about cannonballs and floating. Probably not the mindset of Carnivale.
So you see, I have not given a cruise a chance—because I have convinced myself that it is not worthy of my consideration.
I probably should have done that with bologna and sausage years ago.