HighJinx on the High Seas

I’m now back on land after spending 14 days on the Royal Princess. (I can account for about 10 of those days.) There’s something about being on a ship that compels you to drink. Or maybe that’s just me? Either way… I behaved like a drunken sorority girl basically the whole time I was on board. Sobering up enough to hop off in each port to see the sights, try not to puke, and then work out before doing it all over again. I made a deal with myself long ago that no matter how shit-faced I got, if I could still work out the next day I was on track. I think I might have to reevaluate that stance, but not just yet.

The only explanation I have for my questionable “woo-girl” behavior is that for the first time since I left Los Angeles, I felt safe. When I was in Amsterdam, I barely drank, didn’t partake in any drug use, despite it being legal and very accessible. I was alone and had to keep my wits about me. The ship provided a sense of security that I haven’t had in a while. Which led to excessive drinking and waking up with zero recollection of how I got back to the cabin each night. Topped off with unexplained cuts and bruises. Yeah, I really went for it, didn’t I? But it wasn’t completely my fault. “The crew made me do it.”

With the exception of a few young people cruising with their very cool parents, the close to 4,000 passengers were a waste of space. Just a parade of polyester, pearls and the faint smell of Preparation H. Sexy, I know. But unlike the geriatric passengers awkwardly swaying to music in the Piazza and failing repeatedly to clap on the beat when asked, the crew was made up of young, charismatic, attractive people from all over the world. And of course my friend Leigh, who made all of this drunken debauchery possible, was friends with all the best ones.

Which brings me to my bone to pick with my old pal Simon Cowell. He has no idea who I am, but I’ve interviewed him no less than a million times over the past five years for American Idol and the X Factor. I use to think it was funny when he would tear people apart, well I mean… I still do, that shit is hilarious, but I now take issue with one of his favorite put downs. Using the term “cruise ship performer” as a way to describe a performance as negative. Not cool. During my short time on ship I saw more talent than I did the entire time I worked in Hollywood. Even though cruises aren’t necessarily my jam, if you want to be fed well and entertained, it’s the way to go. The singers, dancers, band and other guest entertainers are really amazing. Simon can suck it.

I mentioned in my last blog that I got to experience the best of both worlds being able to cruise with Leigh as a quasi passenger with crew bar access. Hidden between two decks, far away from the prying eyes of the passengers, it’s a melting pot of exhaustion, testosterone, and sexual frustration. It smells of smoke and spilled alcohol, the same scent that lingers on all of my clothes. And drinking heavily is strongly encouraged. The minute you arrive, if you don’t have a drink in your hand, you need one, if you just finished it, you need another one. Saying no doesn’t seem like a viable option, ever. These people work countless hours, with quick turnarounds and less than desirable sleeping arrangements and if they can work 14 hour days, drink all night and do it again the next day, my bitch ass better not complain. Cheers.

*A special thanks to Leigh for making my time on ship unforgettable… even if I don’t remember all of it.*

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