I wrote a few days ago about a major wardrobe fail while on the Mark Steyn cruise.
As I mentioned in that post, the key card is all important. It doesn’t simply get you in your room, it gets you off the ship when in port and allows you to re-embark when returning. Most important, it’s attached to your credit card and therefore currency at the bar.
My good friend, travel mate, and seasoned cruise-goer reiterated to me at least a dozen times on day one to not lose it. She knows me well — there have been hours and hours of our 32-year friendship spent looking for my keys. I was determined to prove I could be responsible and keep track of the darn thing.
I haven’t figured out why yet, but there was quite an Australian contingent on our cruise. And thank God for that — they were all significantly younger than the Yanks and therefore brought down the average age to something not so embarrassing. My travel mate and I befriended one particular woman from Sydney. She was darling, charming, bright, and when it comes to talking, made me sound like a piker (no easy feat).
One night early in the cruise, Tal Bachman brought his guitar to the bar and we all enjoyed hours and hours of his strumming while everyone else tried to remember lyrics. Michelle Bachmann did yeoman’s work crouched beside Tal with music scores on her iPhone.
The party finally broke up at 2:30 am and my travel mate and I insisted on walking our young Australian friend to her room. Upon arrival — no key card. So, we found the service desk. (I couldn’t find it on a bet now, but there was an elevator ride and a hoof down few flights of stairs.) She had another key card made and we walked her back to her room.
Another few flights of stairs, another elevator ride, and my travel mate and I arrived at our room. Trying to show off my newfound responsibility, I whipped out my key card and inserted it. Several times. With no luck.
Looking at the key card, we noticed the name of our young Australian friend.
How do you know you have the best friend in the world? She looked at me and said, “We will never speak of this again.”Published in