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Ship of Fool
Posted: Monday, September 08, 2003
By Jack Bettridge In the tourism trade it's called "a cruise to nowhere."
An ocean liner sails out of port for a day or so, turns around and comes back. Such trips are done a lot for demonstration purposes. Fraught with travel agents and writers who have a chance to sample a ship's amenities before they sell them or write about them, these cruises are sometimes called familiarity trips, or fam tours. Often "nowhere" describes a place outside the 12-mile limit where the ship can legally open its casino to the passengers.
As my wife is in the tourist trade, I had the opportunity to go on one with her about a week ago. Knowing the temptation of the gaming tables and the draconian antismoking laws of New York City, from which we were sailing, I resolved to bring little cash and lots of cigars. Previous experience told me cigars would be welcome. And since the gratis trip would include meals and drinks with, we were told, tips included, I assumed we wouldn't need money.
My logic, it would turn out, was flawed.
I asked immediately about a place to smoke cigars and was directed to the deck. I can smoke outside at home, I thought. Besides, the particular weekend we went brought a short cold snap after months of sweltering heat in the northeast. Maybe I wouldn't smoke.
Then, when we visited one of the ship's many bars, I noticed people puffing away on cigarettes with impunity. Other than being an odd sight in these days of fun policing, the image told me that a distinction was being made between cigars and cigarettes. Somehow my lovely La Flor Dominicana Ligeros with their rich coats and full flavor weren't welcome in the same company with these miniature, albino, nicotine-delivery devices. Well, we've all experienced that one before. And besides, I thought, I'm not paying for this.
The you-get-what-you-pay-for ethic struck a little closer to home when I tried to order a drink. The bartender was all but totally dismissive. When he finally deigned to take my order, he loitered about, chatting with other staff before he got down to making it. I moved to another bar and got similar treatment. That's a coincidence. At the third bar, I thought, this was far above average, perhaps there was a general work slowdown in effect due to the temporary no-tipping policy. Naw, couldn't be, that would be no way for employees to promote a tour.
I resolved to even things by ordering the toppermost of the top shelf in the most ridiculous way possible for the rest of the cruise. First I called Blanton's Single Barrel Bourbon in a Whiskey Sour. Then came Royal Salute as part of a Rusty Nail. How about some of that Tanqueray Ten in a Singapore Sling? Terrible breech of etiquette that, but they made it for me anyway -- after a long wait. I finally got rejected when I asked for some Louis XIII in a Brandy Alexander. Not because it was absurd, but because they were giving none away. I was willing to make do with an XO, but my wife wisely told me to knock it off.
I had resolved to enjoy the rest of what was otherwise a very pleasant cruise, when on the second and final night I was dressed formally and standing in the highest indoor deck at the one bar I hadn't visited yet. Next to me, I overheard two gentlemen in conversation. As I wasn't eavesdropping I wasn't picking up the discussion word for word. But then certain terms began filtering through to my consciousness: "double punch and corona" or "corona double and punch" or "Punch Double Corona." This was a conversation I needed to be in on.
"I don't mean to be nosy, but are you gentlemen talking about cigars?"
Yes, they were. They were from New Jersey. One was a pediatrician and the other stockbroker. Both were married to travel agents and both took trips to nowhere so they could dress up and smoke cigars indoors.
"You must be terribly disappointed with this one?"
"But why?" was the physician's reply. It turned out that I had stumbled into the one place on the huge vessel where cigars were welcome. Not anticipating this serendipity, I was not packing, however. Damn! I resolved to make good of the cruise.
My wife and I dined together, but had dessert separately, she picking up her tiramisu as I was dashing to the cabin to grab my cigars. Back atop the ship at the aforementioned bar of liberal smoking policy, I ordered a Bourbon rocks, which came immediately. I sat at a table where other gentlemen in dinner jackets were enjoying cigars and said, "This must be the place."
It was, and we sat and smoked and chatted, remarking at our great fortunes at being able to enjoy cigars on the high seas. I was getting ready to opine the cliché "it don't get much better than this," when it did. Maria, the lovely barmaid, had noticed that my glass had gotten down to nothing but ice and she brought me another. Finally, this trip to nowhere was getting somewhere. And I was ready to ignore that no tipping policy. Also in Cigar News:
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