I swear, this better be the last thing that goes on this cruise or I’m gonna do something felonious.
First, a story: one time when I was three I got separated from my mom in the store. I was cool, so I just walked up to the chick in the toy section and started talking about my Hot Wheels and how I was gonna be a cowboy when I grew up. I thought we were getting along pretty well and I was just about to share some of my crackers that I had stuffed in my overalls pocket when she goes, “What’s your name?”
“Hey,” I said, “I’m B.”
I’m just about to ask her name when I hear:
WILL THE MOTHER OF B PLEASE REPORT TO THE TOY SECTION.
I look around, and then look back and it was–well, whatever her name was–making the overhead announcement. I never found out her name, because she sold me out and I was done talking to her. I just glared at her for the next minute until my mom showed up and gave me the usual lecture about wandering off and stuff.
So anyway I’m on the ship up on the recreation deck near the pool, chatting up some gorgeous babes when the Recreation Director comes up, and he’s all like, “Excuse me, young man, but this deck is for adults only.” He’s pretty nice about it, as nice as a guy can be when he’s interrupting me trying to get to know some ladies. Jerk.
The ladies think this is rather funny. But I’m cool about it. I’m like, “Hey, man, I happen to be a paying passenger on this cruise, so like, lighten up.”
It was an honest mistake, as I do have rather youthful good looks.
So then he’s like, “May I see your ticket please?”
So I roll my eyes and reach into my back pocket and pull out my hand–because I apparently left my wallet in my room. So I tell him, “Hey, it looks like I left my wallet in my room.” I’m just about to give him my room number and stuff when he goes, “What’s your name?”
“Hey, I’m B,” and then he reaches for his pocket CB or whatever those breaker-breaker things are called.
WILL THE PARENT OF B PLEASE COME RETRIEVE HIM FROM THE RECREATION DECK.
The girls think this is quite funny. After about a minute and a half my buddies show up. They’re doubled over, I figured because they got tore up, but no: they, along with the babes, are laughing at my misfortune. At least they convince Recreation Director First Class With Honors that I am, in fact, a legal adult old enough to run for the House of Representatives.
He felt real bad about it, and had the galley send me up a big bunch of shrimp and stuff, but it still didn’t bring the babes back.
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