Observations on a Boat

My husband and I celebrated our fortieth wedding anniversary several years ago. We honored our four decades together with a trip to Europe that included a two-week river cruise. Still, amid Covid, we were careful when scrutinizing whom to socialize with on the boat. We met some wonderful people and observed many others in our fourteen days together.

On the bus tour, she turned to her husband and said, “I remember when you used to be nice!” He did not respond. She turned away from him toward the window. 

I absolutely did not want to dine with the woman with the bleached blonde teased hair. It’s her overall vibe and a conversation where I overheard her say to her husband that people wear masks to draw attention to themselves. This was an interesting observation from a woman whose camo tank top is stretched over abnormally perky breasts, revealing cleavage that sadly showed her actual age. 

A mom with a shaved head and a compression sleeve on one arm travels with her nineteen-year-old son. He almost missed the bus to the airport to go home, but she remained calm. Guessing his lateness is the least of her worries.

The younger Newport Beach couple, with no children, apparently has a gardener. She felt compelled to whisper to me whenever someone was “escorted” off the boat with Covid. Although both were likable, I became slightly anxious about her secret news.

She works at the info desk at Dulles Airport. Her work connections helped when their flight was canceled five hours before they were supposed to board. He is a Master naturalist; what does that even mean?

They are a lovely couple, retired professionals, sailors, travelers, and married. Near the end of the trip, she was teary-eyed and worried they would have flight issues. Her tears surprised me. Her wife put her arm around her and said it would work out. Her compassion did not surprise me. It worked out.

She is a doctor, and he is a slob. He ate his meal like a toddler, using his fingers when a fork was the appropriate utensil. He talked non-stop about his knee pain, for which he borrowed pain meds from another guest. Who borrows or loans pain meds? He had the worst feet I had ever seen. Shoes would have been a much better choice rather than plastic shower sandals.

Her walker did not define her. A musician and flyfisher, she is a Renaissance woman. Her sassy, coy demeanor was infectious. Her wife is a doctor with the bedside manner we all hope to have when needed. Her captivating personality and focus on others were admirable. We will remain friends. 

The retired TV anchorman from a small town, a big fish in a tiny pond. A widow who married him and wished he would do something. Anything! The Alabama logo was emblazoned on his entire wardrobe, leaving no one to wonder if he was a fan.

They spent a month in Paris. She is a photographer and a good conversationalist, unlike her husband, who is mediocre in photography and verbal skills. 

“We live in Miami; visit us.” They were a fun couple to watch, with so much touching, love, and kindness. The selfie stick captured their sweet moments. 

Two women, friends, spent eight days in the same clothes. Lost luggage is not for the faint of heart. Guests loaned them a few things, including caps covering hair void of product. When their suitcases finally arrived, I hardly recognized them in their clingy, shiny tops and pouffy hair. Two Texas girls finally felt like themselves. 

Our neighbors, Portuguese, spoke no English; nao falo Ingles, never on time, as they could not understand the PA announcements. It’s not like they needed the 45-second life vest safety check anyway. Thank goodness for the Miami couple; they were thoughtful translators.

Our other neighbors, locked out on their balcony, beat on ours one night, asking for help. We called the front desk for assistance. The stranded couple said they owed us for the favor. He never paid. We thought about ordering drinks and charging to their room, but we did not.

It’s not because he talked to the bleached blonde; it was the conversation I overheard about guns.  I cannot dine with him either; no one does. His wife does not wash her hair. They dine alone.

A young man is with his parents. He talks to adults without the embarrassment of a teenager. He walks on his toes in big blue sneakers. I suspect he is smart and a good son.

Our servers showed kindness that went well beyond remembering my orange juice every morning. They welcomed us each day with a smile and graciousness that felt genuine. 

The sweet young woman who cleaned our room and organized my toiletries was polite and practically invisible. Leaving the boat on her day off, she looked like a model with red lipstick, skinny jeans, and a handsome young man.

The bartender was often curt and tired, ready to go home to a wife and daughter he had not seen for months. His job requires a smile, but he is lonely, and we all seem so needy.  I try to understand.

The man in my room, with whom I have shared my room, bed, and home for nearly fifty years, is still by my side and the love of my life.  It was a lovely and memorable trip, a slow boat down several winding rivers, some gentle, some with rough currents. Similar to a long relationship, there were many adventures, a few challenges, and numerous moments of joy.  As we clinked our glasses together each night, I was reminded of our shared moments of the past forty-plus years. Cheers to us!

Bit by bit, that’s all she wrote…