17 July

We spent the next day at sea, which, unfortunately, meant formal night. Ingrid is into that sort of schicky micky tam tam but it’s a waste on me. I had the suit. I wore it. At least this time we didn’t share a table with silly old American couples painfully discussing the pros and cons of different cruise lines. Formal nights in the Rembrandt dining room always made me long for the casual ease of the Lido. There I could always count on geezerly Americans teetering around aimlessly, stumbling into me in their cluelessness. I’m not making fun of them because they were old and disabled. Their physical limitations were no issue. The fact was that they never seemed to know where they were headed and would bounce back and forth indecisively like a 90s screensaver. I suggested the Lido would make a good video game like Pacman, because while you grabbed your food, you also had to dodge the wait staff. Any number of blue shirted Indonesian staff were always milling about like Pacman’s ghosts. They seemed to maintain a 2:1 ratio with the passengers. Their main goal seemed to be to stand where the passages were narrow and/or clogged with clueless people. Because I was clearly at an advanced level of Lido Pacman, they had an extra task with me. Like I said, they usually just stood around, maybe talking amongst themselves, but always standing in narrow areas. When I came by, they sprang into action, asking, nay demanding, that they help me. If I did not physically resist, they took my tray out of my hands. I tested this once. I let the evil blue Pacman ghost take my tray. I didn’t give it t him. He said, “Let me help you” and took it from me. Then he put the tray at a table where I didn’t want to sit. I thanked him and picked up the tray and put it next to the window. One time, between the salad bar and the table, a distance of maybe 10 meters, I was told I needed help seven times! That takes training.

I know these guys were instructed to offer help at every turn, but you’d think, after being rejected by me meal in and meal out over ten days, some would lose their persistent edge. But even on the last day, I was accosted as the first. I was in line one day with the director of hotel operations and I should have told him to instruct his staff: “if you see a guy without hands, do not help him.”

The final element of this Pacman involved the food itself. There was one server in particular who was baffling. His English was serviceable but he had the shortest attention span ever. I’d say, “Can I have this sandwich please?” He’d point to the same sandwich. “Yes.” Then he’d look away for a second and then look back at me. “Soup?” he’d ask. “No, still this sandwich thanks.” He’d nod and put the sandwich on a plate and then forget to give it to me. It was remarkable.

Before I caught on to his antics, I had asked him what the brown sauce in a wrap was. “Thai peanut sauce?” I had suggested. “No, pesto” he replied. “But pesto is green, not brown,” I insisted. Without a word he walked away and through a door. I waited. He returned a minute later. “Thousand Island,” he confirmed. I nodded and took it. It was Thai peanut sauce.

Kiel was simply a port they added to the cruise to round it out. It’s a nice town and all, but it doesn’t really warrant a Baltic cruise stop by itself. It was bundled in conjunction with a tour of nearby Hamburg, which we didn’t need. We walked around the Kiel downtown. That took about ten minutes. Some locals were sitting in a biergarten and I agonized about joining them. It was before noon but the bier was simply too tempting. By the time I first sipped, though, it was afternoon – by a few seconds.

Our cruise concluded the following morning in Copenhagen. They swept us off the ship and hurried to get ready for the next batch of passengers. Unfortunately the line for the taxis took nearly an hour, and, by the time we got to the hotel, Analyn had been waiting in the lobby for quite awhile. It was great to see her after being at sea so long with 2000 of AARP’s best.