Sitting at my backdrop, I ponder. To my left, the free drinks are coming out in abundance and before the bar stewards step 6 feet into the atrium passengers engulf them like a hoard of locusts. Sore, from the cheap booze last night, I rest my head on my chin and wait for the night to end.
It seems that this cruise has a familiarity about it. It may just be the same whining voices or the same ridiculous questions.
A woman wearing a size 12 , obviously too small, full length purple sequinned dress with a slit up one side showing of her 1967 prom queen legs, says to me... “Sir”?
“Yes young lady?” I reply, knowing full well the absurdity of my comment would flatter her.
“Oohh, I like you” she says, with her free watered down screwdriver in hand. She continues “Are you the ships photographer?”
Besides my studio lit backdrop behind me, several photographs, one especially that says Black & White photography, my $8,000 Nikon around my neck and a badge on my vest saying photographer, I refrain from being my usual smart arse self.
“Yes, my dear I am” I reply with a great smile upon my face.
“Would you like a portrait?”
“No“ she replies, “I take terrible pictures!”
And on that note she turns and walks off in her purple vinyl stilettos with transparent heals.
As I pondered what had just happened, laughed to myself. This ever so elegant woman in her late forties, reaches behind and with all her might, picks her g-string from out of her bottom.
This is going to be a long night.