Ship Happens: Four Months of Nauticalness

Living the Dream!

2008-05-18T13:25:00.001-07:00

Steve and I both were hired by the Second City National Touring Company after we did our stint on the ship. It is something that both of us have wanted to do since we were wee. The Touring Company has a website (www.sctourco.com) and encourages its members to contribute to the content. For example, sometimes we donate .jpegs of us on the road - like this gem of myself in Edmonds, Washington (not quite Olympia, I know) meeting RICK STEVES, the travel guru who purred into my ear buds as I listened to his podcasts about Turkey and Italy and beyond while I was on the ship.

They have a section called "What's It Like to..." and they asked me to write a bit for it. Here was my question:
"So Katie, what's it like to... Travel and live with 7 other people for extended periods of time?"

And here is my answer:
I know You. You love The Second City with all your being. You think it is the End-All-Be-All of Comedy. You know that no other institution boasts such an esteemed roster of Comedians. You know Your life will have reached an apex if You were ever to be a performer in the Second City Tradition. And You know one of the first steps in reaching that apex is to wrangle a spot on the Second City Touring Company.

And if this doesn’t describe You, thanks for actually reading this, Mom*!

Dude, I have some news for you: Being a member of The Second City Touring Company is…well…What It Is.

Listen - I am in no way trying to detract from the opportunity I have been given, but let’s be real for a second. My job is to tool around the country in a van with seven folks who have nothing to do with me except that we share a common Bottom Line. Seven random people that I hadn’t really interacted with prior to our first rehearsal together.

This isn’t a Real World-type situation where you get to live, rent-free, in a palatial loft in an urban paradise with these seven strangers. Granted, sometimes you get to go on some killer trips (Vienna, anyone?) But, a lot of the time you get to stay in motels in towns the size of your college Physics class. And not a major university Physics class – a small, Liberal Arts Physics class.

In short, you get stuck with another Family. Another freaking Family that you didn’t have a lick in choosing.

And you can’t move out of this Family’s house. In fact, when you are Touring, you have to live with, eat with, work with, cry with, laugh with, drink with, fight with, play with, write with, compose with, and create with the human beings that the Touring Company Gods of Fate have brought you.

Sometimes you are stuck for 8.5 hours in a van with people who flaunt their staunch Republican values (Tim Sniffen*), or pass gas openly and with gusto (Brian Jack*), or talk too much and too loudly about inane things in the most intolerable, high-pitched, grating voice imaginable (Katie Rich*). And you want to murder those people as soon as you get to the next rest stop.

But, when you’re on stage all of that B.S. doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the Work.

Here’s the beautiful, gorgeous, tremendous Bottom Line that we all share - The members of the Second City Touring Company have been picked to do a very unique and important job – To Remind People That Life is Funny. And, in the end, when it really counts, we all have each other’s backs.

If that’s not the definition of Family, then I don’t know what is.

(Here is my Touring Company - called The Blue company, or BlueCo - at a very Family-Friendly destination - Mt. Rushmore.)

*Names haven’t been changed at all.

Read This First.

2008-02-17T10:45:00.000-08:00

About 7 years ago I was diagnosed with Panic Disorder. In the simplest of terms, your nervous system has a gas pedal and a brake. The gas pedal kicks in when there is danger (i.e. you have to fight and/or run away from a tiger) and the brake kicks in when the danger has passed. My gas pedal is broken, and tends to floor itself even when there isn’t a “tiger” in the room, like when I am watching a movie or simply sitting at a restaurant with my friends.

Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

So, this little story about my travels has a bit more going on than just anecdotes and snapshots. The stories are about someone who, in the simplest of terms, is doing IT. IT! Things that people like me aren't supposed to do! Like live in a tiny cabin that is often in the middle of the ocean or docked at a very remote island with no hospitals or cabs or warm beds to hide in. Or riding a camel. IT!

I am so grateful that my reward for my good fight against my body’s inability to know when it is time to fight is this beautiful adventure, with old friends and new. You might even say it was all worth it. You might.

I hope you enjoy IT.

Now, go start at the beginning of this blog. It will make much more sense that way.

Re-visiting Olympia

2008-02-09T23:13:00.000-08:00

As many of you loyal friends and family know, I absolutely adored my trip to Olympia, and touring the site of the original Olympics. So much so, I decided I wanted to go back. So much so, that I decided I didn't want to lead tourists around or do head counts, but that I wanted my head counted by someone else.

Cody, Steve, and Dave Keeton agreed, and we all shelled out $72 of our (hard earned?) dollars to take the excursion to Olympia in Muggle-fashion.

I may have said this before, but the Olympics reduce me to a sniffling, snotting mess every year, making me beam with pride at what humans, in their peak perfection, can accomplish. I sort of expected the same thing to happen when I waltzed back into the Olympic Stadium not having to worry about whether Snappy McTakesTooManyPictures is lagging behind.

But, instead, it was sort of just calming. It was a very serene feeling, retracing those steps. I still cannot get over the cypress trees that surround the Olympic site. And the quiet - a quiet that you cannot achieve in revered places like the Vatican museums or the Parthenon. It is the quiet that cannot possibly be man-made.

I realized that a lot of the facts that I had tried to piece together from my previous tour guide's speeches where a bit off. First, anyone caught cheating in the Olympic games was forced to commission a statue of Zeus to line the pathway into the Olympic Stadium. The statue had the cheater's name on it. So, it wasn't just any criminals, but athletes that were forced to endure the humiliation. Take that, Barry Bonds.

Also, the fire-pit that houses the Olympic flame was reintroduced at the 1928 Summer Olympics. It is lit by the reflection of sunlight in a parabolic (fancy word for curved in a precise, mathematical way) mirror and then transported by a torch to the place where the games are held. A fella by the name of Carl Diem introduced the modern-day torch running during the Berlin Games of 1936, as part of an effort to - get this - turn the games into a glorification of the Third Reich!

Horrible, lesser-known associations aside, they boys had to do the "I raced my pals at the original Olympic Stadium" race. Steve won! However, all were quite winded, and much water and panting was needed to recover.

Not too long ago, the fires that ravaged Greece reached these places. Flames licked the edges of the original Olympic stadium and scorched the yard of the museum. Even though we were all separated by many miles, Cody and Jennine and Dave and I all corresponded about how horrible it would be that a place we had all mutually appreciated was so close to destruction.

To be honest, had we not gone there, I probably wouldn't have batted much of an eye at the news story.

That is happening a lot lately. Faraway places have become friends I want to keep in touch with.

So, there's that. I can sure thank my travels for that.

Wait...

2007-10-31T04:34:00.000-07:00

Hi.

I'm Katie. Remember me?

It is okay if you don't. To be honest, I don't remember me. This girl traipsing around the world on a cruise ship seems so far away.

Obviously I'm home now.
And I miss it.
I wanted to post this because, in my Chicago apartment with my cats and my clothes and my bed...I miss that life that you so very kindly read about.

My sister asked me if I had ended my blog yet. No. No, I haven't. I'm not ready to. I'm still processing some stuff.

So, thank you for you patience. We will all get there some day.

In My Country, Comedy Laughs at You!

2007-09-13T02:38:00.000-07:00

Istanbul. Night. Taxim Square. Cool people everywhere. Oh, and Steve and I.

We didn't have a plan, and ambling around tends to lead to shopping with leads to overdraft notices from Chase Bank.

Steve and I are two of the most indecisive people in the world, only a scant more decisive than dead people. So, after a fun game of, "What do you Want to do? Well, Whatever you Want to do. I Don't Care, What do you Want to Do?" we ran into Cody.

Cody did not want to play "What do you Want to do? Well, Whatever you Want to do. I Don't Care, What do you Want to Do?" so we mentioned to him that we had seen a shady-looking neon sign during our ambling that said "Old City Comedy Club." Steve and I thought it would be awkward to go in there and watch a comedy show that was all in Turkish. Cody also thought it would be awkward to watch a comedy show all in Turkish, but in an awesome way.

So, we decided to go. The club itself was very ImprovOlympic-like, with cabaret-style seating and a full bar in the back of the house. ImprovOlympic (or i.O.) is the theater that both Steve and I perform at weekly in Chicago.

There was also a cat that roamed free in the theater, which is also very i.O.-like, as Charna, the owner, lets her dogs roam free during shows.

Five gentlemen performed for about 10 minutes each. I don't know what we thought was going to happen, but, surprise surprise, we didn't understand anything that was going on and tended to enjoy the folks that used a lot of gestures and moved around a lot.

The closing act was a dude who looked like a Turkish Andy Samburg and seemed to be a pretty popular guy. The crowd was very happy to welcome him to the stage.

And when I use the word, "welcome" I mean welcome. The main difference between the Old City Comedy Club and any comedy club in the States (besides the gratuitous use of the Turkish language, of course) is the fact that the audience is very attentive and warm and they...well...listen. No one heckled. In fact, the "jokes" were more like stories. The comic would take his time, often going two to three minutes before the joke even came. Either the audience was really happy with crappy comedy, or they were used to a style of comedy that was more anecdotal than bump-set-joke-repeat.

We ended up leaving during intermission as one can only take so much non-English stand-up.

But, kudos to those Turkish comics and their audiences for realizing that, as an art, comedy is often a dish best served slowly.

Oh, and for realizing that when someone else is on stage, that means shut-up.

June 20, 2007

2007-08-04T02:47:00.000-07:00

Charles Bach had his birthday on the ship, so he is in good company, as Matt Craig and *ahem* I also had our birthdays at sea.

For Charles, we did the traditional Big-Ass-Group-of-Peeps-at-Cagney's routine, followed by cocktails. Charles' wisdom teeth are coming in, so Edge bought him a teething ring.

"It works surprisingly well," he said. "I see why 2 year olds get into this."

As we had cocktails afterwards in the swanky and traditionally uninfested with anyone but us Star Bar, Dave and Steve began singing piano melodies. The normal piano melody couple had been kicked off earlier that week for *enjoying each other* on deck 14.

Charles is now married. He married a very successful lawyer from Poland named Magdelena on 07/07/07.

The Light Melody Couple are presumably naked somewhere in public.

Visitor

2007-07-24T23:12:00.000-07:00

The only person who came to visit us, besides Steve's family, was a gentleman who Steve has been friends with since they were, like, three. His name is Matt Flynn.
Most people working on cruise ships get visitors when the boat is in Puerto Rico or Italy or Spain. But Matt visited us when we were in the port town of Alexandria, Egypt.

This was because he, too, was in Alexandria as he has been traveling the world for quite some time now.

By traveling the world, I don't mean going to Europe and drinking in pubs with other Americans. I mean like sleeping in mosquito-infested tents in Kenya ("I usually spend the extra two dollars for the net. Otherwise, I'm guaranteed malaria," he told us) or hitching rides with sheep farmers in the Sudan. Like, the WORLD.

It was definitely bizarre for Matt to go from seeing the parts of the world that have literally nothing to then bunking one night on one of the biggest, most lavish cruise ships out there. He wasn't judgemental about it, but Steve and I still felt the need to apologize for everything we had. Like clean sheets. Changed daily. Not by us. You get the point.

Here is a picture of Matt post-sip of a delicious glass of orange juice that was delivered, free of charge, to our room that morning, along with cereal and an assortment of toast and muffins and other sundries. The steward who delivered our room service was Kenyan.

Parthe-none

2007-07-21T23:07:00.000-07:00

We made it to the Acropolis. It was about 147 degrees out, but we made it.

Just to be clear, "Acropolis" refers to any high city, or the edge of a town (from the Greek "acron," which means edge, and "polis," which means city). The Acropolis in Athens is a complex that includes, among other things, the Parthenon, which is a temple devoted to Athena Parthos, or Athena the Virgin, the Temple of Athena Nike, or Athena of Victory, The Theater of Dionysus, and a lot of sand and rubble and fat tourists.

There is a very good possibility that I am suffering from Important Stuff Immunity. We have seen so much in so little time, that I could be done with freaking out over ancient runes. Perhaps nothing short of Athena herself welcoming me into her famous monument would have satisfied me as we walked up the slippery rocks of the Acropolis.

But I don’t think that is it. I think one of the reasons the Acropolis as a whole is so disappointing is that the site itself is more picked over than T.J. Maxx on a Friday.

A dude named Lord Elgin took pretty much all the beautiful sculptures form the Parthenon back to England with him. Back in the 1800s you didn’t bring back postcards and t-shirts of ancient treasures – you brought back the treasures themselves. It seemed like everywhere we looked, there is a picture of what was there and an explanation of where it is now.
This is the East pediment of the Parthenon.

I saw more of the East Pediment when I was at the British Museum.

I think what I will remember most from the Acropolis is this girl in the green and white striped shirt.

When we were making our way up the stairs to the Parthenon, this chunker climbed over some rocks and smacked Jennine in the face with her sandal. She looked Jennine in the eye and didn't say a word of apology. She made me so. Angry. I'm angry just thinking about her, dressed like a pack of Fruit Stripe gum.
Sometimes the most innocuous thing becomes your clearest memory.

Cody agreed. He told us, “I remember going on this awesome field trip in grade school to the Mayan runes. But the only thing I still remember about the trip is that Robby Herrera got detention for throwing a juice box at a rival school’s bus.”

He paused. "Actually it might have been Incan runes. But, I know for a fact the juice box was a Capri-Sun."

Boo

2007-07-15T09:08:00.000-07:00

My biggest piece of luggage (a 52" long duffel bag) is still happily sitting in Heathrow airport.

It had everything in there. Even stuff they tell you to always pack in your carry-on. Like my house keys.

Worst of all, though, it had all my presents in there. I bought a lot of stuff - small stuff - for a lot of people. And I was very excited to give them a piece of my journey and to let them know I was thinking about them while far away.

Until then, here is a picture of the Blue Mosque.

And the inside of the Hagia Sophia in Turkey.

These pictures might seem random, given the subject of this entry.

But, did I mention my camera is in the bag, too?

Please...Stay With Me.

2007-07-11T21:56:00.000-07:00

Hi Friends!

Our trip got a little out of hand busy and my blog slowly suffered because of it. Like one of those Nanopets. Remember? You had to play with it or it would die?

But, the blog isn't dead. I've got a lot more adventure to speak of. Like how we saw Woody Allen in Barcelona. Or how we went to a soccer game in Turkey.

So, now that I have some reliable internet, please stay with us. I'll be updating regularly again. Play with the blog and feed it and take it for walks. Because it doesn't really exist without you guys.

Love,
Katie (and Steve)

Turkish Nights

2007-07-01T06:53:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't been here in a while. How have you been? We've been busy, with Europe and all. Also, Steve's parents were here and Saturday was, ahem, my birthday.

Anyway, we left off in Turkey.
After our dinner, it was time to dessert hunt. Here you can see Steve looking painfully at the honey-dripping baklava.

I'm not huge into dessert. Did you know Turkish Delight is just gummy candy with powdered sugar on top?
I thought it was gross. But Steve was mainlining the stuff.

In the end, we had popcorn and soda for dinner because we went to a movie!

Ah, we hadn't been in a movie theater in months! The only movie that was in English (with Turkish subtitles) was Spiderman 3, but we didn't care.

We were just so happy to be in a movie theater!

We're lucky we didn't care, because Spiderman 3 sucked. Big time.
Also, there is an intermission in Turkish movie theaters. Not at an appropriate time, just whenever. This one happened in the middle of someone's dialogue. Someone's painfully acted, poorly written dialogue.

(BLOG TRIVIA! What 1990s cartoon character hawks soda in Turkish movie theaters? Answer: Fido Dido.)

"Digging" for Work

2007-06-24T19:16:00.000-07:00

The other day one of the photographers on the ship, whose job is to spend countless hours a day taking pictures of fat, cruising Americans, asked Steve and me a question. We had just sat down at our favorite email checking spot by the windows on Deck 7. We had our Mac Laptops in our laps and Coronas next to us, which we lazily sipped from. We assume this position about two to three times a day.

The photographer, not wanting to disturb us form our hard work, called over: "May I ask the two of you a question?"
"Sure," we replied.
"Um...what do you do here? I mean, I'm not sure what you are doing here."
We explained we are guest entertainers with the Second City and he apologized, saying that his schedule prevents him from seeing any of the mainstage shows. The evenings are prime Cruise Ship Portrait Time.

We laughed, and the conversation ended with the photographer staring at Steve for a few seconds and saying, "I thought you were the CEO's son." The photographer said this in total, absolute seriousness.

We don't do much on this ship, work-wise, and we don't have to wear our name tags in public areas like a lot of the crew does.
If we haven't yet done our show on a given itinerary, we blend in with about the same amount of free time and responsibility as the vacationers.

Our new favorite way to pass the time is to play "DIG" or "Speed Scrabble." All the Scrabble tiles are put in a pile in the center, and the object is to build your own Scrabble puzzle on word at a time.

The cast sat in the Garden Cafe for almost five hours the other day playing game after game of DIG.
This is the one I won with.

Creating this winning puzzle was some of the hardest work I had done in a while.

I've Been To Turkey. So That's Something...

2007-06-23T14:07:00.000-07:00

You can gather a lot of insight into a country by paying attention to what its people do when they accidentally bump into you. Take America. God forbid anyone bump into me on the street. My forefathers fought and died for my right to walk down a street untouched by those around me. If you so much as touch me you better apologize for intruding on my right to personal space.

And we do. We apologize profusely for intruding on a stranger’s personal space, even though we had no intention of causing any inconvenience. We operate as little islands, ridden with latent Puritanical guilt. Americans say, “I’m sorry,” for nothing, lest people we don’t know perceive us as rude.

During our first trip to Istanbul, a very populated and bustling city, not one single person even gestured in a way that said, “I’m sorry” when they bumped into me on the street. No one did so to anyone, so it wasn’t that I was an American and they were happy to cause me minor discomfort. Moreover, there was no sense that their lack of an acknowledgement was rude. It just wasn’t important.

Bumping into one another was inevitable and necessary. Perhaps a connection needed to be made. It is nothing to be ashamed about.

If I could sum up Turkey in one word it would be, “unapologetic.” It is what it is.

It is both Asian and European, as the land itself is transcontinental, and physically lies in both Europe and Asia. It is both ancient and modern, as the city now called Istanbul was the capital of both the Byzantine and Ottoman Empires. Mosques that are hundreds of years old stand unapologetically next to the city’s delightfully modern and efficient public train system and vast array of office buildings, often poking up into the sky right along side a mosque’s minarets.

No one seems to feel the need to make a decision as to which way the country needs to lean. The only issue the Turkish people are overwhelmingly in favor of making a clear decision on is a Secular State vs. a Religious one. In 1923, a man named Mustafa Kemal Ataturk spearheaded the effort to make Turkey the country that it is now – a secular, democratic, united republic. The Turkish constitution even says that the military can get involved should the people feel that the separation between Mosque and State was becoming threatened.

This pride in their secular democracy is unmistakable, as flags are EVRYWHERE, along with portraits of Mr. Ataturk himself.

These images aren’t unsettling, a la North Korea. The flags do not seem like forced patriotism either. The vibe is simple – this is where you are, this is who got us here, and we are really, really proud of it.

So why is Turkey scary? Why don’t Westerners want to visit? More importantly, why do they often lump Turkey in with many of the countries it is near, like Egypt and Iran and Iraq?

Because it is primarily an Islamic country. And an Islamic country means a country that is war torn and zealous, and quick to blow up anyone whose native language is English. But Turkey is a secular democracy. Religion is all well and good, but it isn’t going to dictate anything going on in the public sphere. (Sounds a lot like what is supposed to happen in America.)

The Muslims that we are trained to fear are Fundamentalists, who practice Islam in a very extreme way. I don’t use the word “extreme” to mean “strapping bombs to their chests,” although it should be noted that a very small amount of Islamic Fundamentalists are a part of such atrocities. The Fundamentalist way of practicing Islam literally means carrying the belief that the tenants of the Islamic faith should dictate all affairs, both public and private. Less than 10% of the Turkish population could be called Islamic Fundamentalists, and about 0.05% of that group would even think about expressing their beliefs through violence.

Yes, there are bombings. Bombs have gone off in marketplaces in Izmir, Ankara, and Istanbul all in the time we have been cruising. However, more people were killed in the recent shooting in tiny Delevan, Wisconsin than in all the recent bombings in Turkey combined. I’m not defending the fact that protestors chose to express their discontent by attacking populated public squares, but it is worth noting that you have more of a chance of being hit by stray gun fire in Chicago than being injured in a Turkish bombing.

American tourists (actually, tourists in general) are still a rarity in Istanbul. This is not to oversimplify things, as it would be naïve to think that we were forging new ground by visiting Turkey’s largest city, but unlike Rome or Athens, the parts of Istanbul that cater exclusively towards tourists (i.e. overpriced crap stores) are not too terribly plentiful. In fact, if any of us were to make a trek out to the remote Turkish villages, there is a good chance that we would stumble upon one whose people had never even seen an American in person. (It is also worth noting that the villages outside of Metropolitan Turkish cities do not have police forces. This is because there is simply no crime).

Istanbul is my favorite port so far.

We started out the day in a very traditional way, going to the Grand Bazaar. It is an anxiety attack waiting to happen. It is hot. It is loud. It is a confusing maze of merchandise and hawkers and shoppers and dogs and food and lights. You are expected to haggle, which is something I have not taken a liking to. I like my prices firm.

We bought some t-shirts and things. Whether or not we got a good deal, we will never know. Then, it was time for a snack. And then it was time for me to want to get out of there.

Time to explore. The passion and energy in the city is so thick it is almost chewable. At night, we went to an area called Taxsim, which could be compared to Wicker Park in Chicago or Greenwich Village in New York in the sense that it is fairly trendy and most of the young people flock there at night to enjoy the cafes, shops and bars, all of which stay open very late. Istanbul definitely rivals New York in the “City That Never Sleeps” category.

We wandered down a side street and found a restaurant with outdoor seating, cold pints of beer, and delicious chicken shish-ka-bob. Our waiter was funny and awkward and kind. There were live music clubs everywhere. We watched cafes change into concert halls, as a man would simply switch the building’s outdoor sign from “Restaurant” to “Live Music.” With full bellies, it seemed as though Taxsim was telling us that our night had only just begun.

*I would like to point out that while I authored this description of Turkey, the facts were gleaned from reading of guidebooks, a very informative article in The Economist, and listening to programs about Turkey on my iPod. I knew absolutely nothing about Turkey before going on this cruise. Please do not take any of it as gospel. Hey, go see for yourself! I have about $10 in Turkish Lira left. I’d be more than happy to donate it to your trip so you can form your own opinion.

Living Together in Ship

2007-06-22T01:01:00.000-07:00

Steve and I technically live together on this ship. I have never lived with anyone I was dating before. I always said when I finally moved in with a Fella, we’d have to get a two bedroom apartment –one bedroom for both of us, and one bedroom for escaping to, preferably with a computer and loud stereo system.

The living arrangement Steve and I have would give Virginia Woolf a stroke. If Steve and I need to get away from each other for whatever reason, one of us has to go to a public area, like the gym or one of the dining rooms, or the library, aka the Fart and Nap Room. If we want to get away from each other in the privacy of our own home, one of us can go in the other room. The other room is the toilet.

We can get further away from each other vertically rather than horizontally. If Steve huddled in one corner of the room and I huddled in the opposite corner, we would only be about 6.5 feet from each other. But if Steve were to lie atop our fold out bed (or the “Guest Room”) without unfolding it from the wall, and I were to lie under our actual bed, we’d have approximately 8 feet of space between us.

Travel Scientists* have designed cruise ships such that the living spaces are so small you are forced to spend as much time as possible out of your room. You cannot spend copious amounts of money if you are lying in bed all day. They want you in the casino, drinking $9 cocktails and buying hideous jewelry from the gift shop that you are only buying because you are brainwashed by the fact that it is duty free.

But we live here. We don’t go home after 7 or 8 days. This is our little life.

Luckily, Steve and I haven’t really had many problems. We are very similar in our natural schedules (nap at 4 PM, dinner at 10 PM and hit the hay around 1 AM) and our daily activities (check email, read something, pretend to write, watch a television show on the computer, snack, and repeat). We’ve discovered a few general guidelines that help us deal with our tiny home:

> If something petty is annoying you (like Steve’s chomping on gummy bears or the fact that I will take a nap and set the alarm, but Steve ends up being the one to turn off the alarm) suck it up. There is no escape, and fighting it is a waste of time.

>It is perfectly acceptable for Steve to be watching something on his computer and for me to be watching a different show on my computer at the same time.

>It is not rude for one of us to put on our headphones at any given time, even if the other person is talking. Take the hint.

>We both sleep like drugged up cats. If one of us is snoozing, it will not disturb the other one if you blast the television or set something on fire.

>If you have to go, like big time go, you go to the public bathroom.

We make it work. We genuinely like each other’s company and, above all, respect each other. It’s nice.

But, it will also be nice to be home, where we are only a 4 minute cab ride away from each other.

*Not a real profession.

Here's What Happened With Mr. Matthew Fox, You Maniacs...

2007-06-21T13:45:00.000-07:00

Steve: "Katie and I have spent a great deal of time and money on this cruise looking for decent internet connections. A lot of that energy has gone into trying to find reliable places to download the show 'Lost' from iTunes. I think we both know 'Lost' isn't the best show on television, nor is it probably objectively worth sacrificing a couple of hours in Istanbul to find the internet cafe with the best chances of giving us enough speed to grab another episode, but somehow this project has become about more than just watching TV.

I use the word project because that's what it began to feel like. 'Lost' is a cliffhanger mystery show and Katie are pretty much sold on it. The show has peaks and valleys and we don't love every episode but we are dedicated viewers. Could we wait until we get home to catch up on the current season? Of course we could, but I think there are a few factors that have made this quest for 'Lost' take on more urgency.

One is that it is something we do together. If it was a show that only one of us was interested in, I think it would be a
different story. When faced with the irrationality of spending not just the $3 iTunes charges for an episode, but sometimes up to tens of dollars more just to sit somewhere with enough bandwidth to get an episode, I say to myself "This is pretty stupid, but Katie really wants it." I'm sure she does the same.

There's also the fact that staying on top of a TV show is a surprisingly effective way of feeling connected to the world in a place where isolation can really get you down. But I think the most compelling reason to spend time of this project is that there are so few projects out here. It feels good to be working on something. I know that sounds funny because there is no
real work involved, but there have been some days when looking for the best place to download 'Lost' has given meaning and purpose to an otherwise aimless fifth visit to a less alluring port.

On Sunday night, Katie and I finally watched the season finale of 'Lost.' On Monday we were wandering around Venice and taking in the sites and we passed Matthew Fox (the actor who plays Jack- the central character on 'Lost') on a canal bridge. Katie swore it was him and I insisted that it was only a guy who looked like him and that we were sure to think we saw him, having seen the show only the night before.

To show her that it wasn't him, I yelled, "Matthew!" and was a caught off guard when he turned around and was clearly Matthew Fox, wondering what I wanted. He didn't seem thrilled to be recognized while walking with a friend through the streets of Venice (I don't blame him), but I played the "it's my girlfriend's birthday" card (only 12 days short of
true) and managed to get him to snap a picture with Katie before he walked on.

It's not lost on me that the thin believability of this cross happening and the curious narrative convenience of it is worthy of the show itself. But it also seems to me somehow very appropirate. It's like someone out there said, "with the time and effort these two people have put in on this stupid show, they deserve a personal visit."

So, that's what happened. You're welcome.

I Met Someone Named Matt in Venice...

2007-06-20T06:56:00.000-07:00

Hey. Here is a guy that we met while walking over the Rialto Bridge in Venice. Do you know who it is?

Here is a small hint: It is Matthew Fox from TV's hit show LOST! Steve and I are obsessed with LOST!! Squueeeeee!

Mykonos (Part 2)

2007-06-17T04:12:00.000-07:00

I wish I could tell you exactly what happened after we started to roll but I don’t remember. It is an evolutionary advantage that our big brains can keep memories that are a bit too traumatic for reminiscing from sticking to our neurons. What I’m told happened is that the bike began picking up speed and Steve, knowing that we were going to fly right to the bottom of the hill if he didn’t act quick, realized it would be better to turn the front wheel so that we rolled over into the grass on the side of the road and not into incoming traffic with a hill’s worth of momentum at our backs.

And that’s what he did. And the bike flipped onto its back, and we flipped onto ours, and I was out the whole time.

The first thing I remember is someone pouring water in my mouth. I remember my wrist and my ankle hurt and I couldn’t stop crying. I remember telling myself to try not to have a panic attack because it would make everything worse. I remember Cody and Steve being so soothing and sweet, asking me questions to keep me talking, rubbing my head, and generally just being about the best people to have with you if you plan on getting into a bike accident.

I don’t want to get into details about getting to the hospital or the hospital or anything like that. Let’s just know that I was and am fine. So is Steve. In fact, Steve knew I was fine when, a couple minutes after I came to, I said, “Please don’t call my parents. They’ll worry.”

At the hospital, the doctor’s first name was Theodoros. “Theodoros” is the same first name that my good friend T.J. has. T.J. is from Greece, and so I immediately started babbling on to the doctor about how he has a house somewhere in Greece but I don’t know where and his email address is the Greek Missile, and how in high school he made me eat octopus once, and so on and so forth. The doctor just smiled and tolerated it, and probably thought the knock to my noggin gave me a talking disorder, but little did he know that’s just me.

He was kind and calming and didn’t charge us a dime. It turns out I had been taken to a state hospital, where emergency room visits are free of charge. I’m glad it is that way in America, too. Oh, wait…

I’m pretty certain that in the course of over six years of treatment for Panic Disorder a doctor told me, “Flipping off a bike in the middle of a Greek Island will knock your progress back a few notches.” Or maybe I read it in a pamphlet. Either way, after doing many things that people with Panic Disorder should not do or do not do - like riding a camel, crossing the Atlantic Ocean by ship, and parasailing under the watchful eye of “Two Stoned Jamaicans, Inc.” – I finally had a reason for all that is irrational inside me to say, “Ah ha!” I finally had an excuse for Panic Disorder to say, “See? When you do things besides sit in your house, bad things happen.” I finally had a concrete experience to make me scared again.

But, here’s the thing – Cody, Steve and I had had a great day. There was nothing ominous about it, nobody had done anything stupid like gotten bombed before hopping on the ATVs, or not worn a helmet. And, in the end, nobody really got hurt. As one wise women once said, in pun form, “Ship Happens.”

And yes, I sat a few out after the accident. I didn’t get off the ship a couple days here and there and opted to lay low for a while and enjoy some room service, but I think that is pretty normal after a scrape like the one we had. People with panic disorder love nothing more than to escape a situation and be alone. But you can’t be alone because that is when you are in the most dangerous of situations, both literally and figuratively. If I had been alone that day on my ATV what would have happened? If I didn’t have my friend and my Fella there what would I have done?

I remember one day in CCD (Catholic Boot Camp you go to on weekends) our teacher asked us to think of our favorite moment, our best memory in our lives so far. We each told ours to the class and then he asked us what all of those treasured experiences had in common. He eventually had to give us the answer – they were all made precious, and in most cases made possible, due to other people. Not one memory was of a time when a person was alone.

I need people. And I bet some people need me. And we aren’t going to find each other if I just stay inside my room.

But you know what people I don’t need? The folks at Pier 1 Travel Agency and Car Rental, P.O.B. 112, Port Mykonos, Greece – T.K. 84600, email info@pier1.gr, telephone number (22890) 24004, 24111. These jerk bags charged Steve 60 Euros because their bike, which didn’t have enough brake power to survive the hill, got a bit banged up when we flipped off of it and had to go to the hospital. SIXTY EUROS. Feel free to send your regards to them.

Our Visit to Mykonos (Part 1)

2007-06-16T00:03:00.001-07:00

Our itinerary in May and June includes stops to many of the Greek Islands. So, for a few fleeting moments, we get to feel like Young, Big Time, Island Hopping, Trust Fund Having, Money Bleeding Sophisticates. The Greek Island that attracts the majority of the aforementioned demographic is Mykonos. The tiny island has a population of only 15,000 but attracts over 800,000 visitors a year.

I’m pretty sure Mykonos is past its glory days of the 1960s, when it was a tucked away haven for the beautiful celebrities and debutantes to live it up as they please. I can’t picture Twiggy and Edie Sedgwick drinking in designer miniskirts in front of what is now “Themostopolis’ Internet Café and Gyro Shop” or Rock Hudson trying to keep his secret safe by tip-toeing into one of the many subtly-named clubs like “Ramrod” or “Every Guy in Here is A Gay.”

But, like we’ve discovered in most places where many have gone before us, if you make the effort and dig a little deeper, Mykonos is still a wondrous place. It is said that the roads of Mykonos were designed to confuse pirates, so it is no surprise that they are winding and curvy and poorly labeled.
You have to take these roads to get to the good stuff past the port, like the beaches and little resorts, but to walk it is very time-consuming and uncomfortable.

Cody, Steve and I decided to explore Mykonos on ATVs. We rented four-wheelers (Steve and I on one, Cody on another, helmets on all three of us) in the morning and began zipping around the island.

Yes, I rode a four-wheeler. I didn’t drive because I of course do not know how to drive since I am a city rat. And it was really fun. We rode through the hills and farms of Mykonos, in awe of the mountains and the white building with bright blue roofs and all the animals just hanging out in pastures along the roadside.

We didn’t have a destination in mind, so when we got a bit famished, we pulled off at a little resort - which I’m sure is packed during high season. But that day it was empty, and we ate amazing Greek food in a beautiful garden.
A family owned the place, so the young daughter was riding her bike around us, the men were playing cards, and cats sniffed about. It was right on one of the main beaches in Mykonos as well, so we were able to dip our toes in the sea while our bellies went to work on our meal.

The two main beaches on Mykonos are Paradise Beach and, wait for it, Super Paradise Beach.
Super Paradise Beach is the hipster beach and we wanted to go there just to see it, but not to drink a 16 Euro Corona which as about the cheapest thing at the bar.

It is a pretty ridiculous place, and we were there very early in the afternoon. It is a mostly Gay, nude beach, but no one was really out and about yet. There is a full on grotto by the bar, complete with a sizeable pool, marble dance floor, and an extravagant DJ booth. It is more like Super We’re All On Ecstasy Paradise Beach.

Since neither Cody nor Steve nor I felt like starting a rave at 1 in the afternoon,
we bid adieu to Super Paradise and hopped on out ATVs and began the ascent up the very steep hill that we had traveled down to get to the beach.

We were worried about Cody’s vehicle since it was having trouble making it on flat roads and went no faster than about 5 miles an hour. Hence, Steve and I drove behind him to make sure he didn’t start to slide down the hill.

And he didn’t. Cody’s little feeble bike did just fine. In fact, Cody was able to push OUR bike when it began to stall at the top of the hill. In fact, Cody was able to push two grown people with almost 12 feet of height between them for a good couple of minutes.

In fact, Cody was able to watch, powerless, as we lost control, as our bike lost all brake power, and as we began to roll rapidly down the steep hill.

If Mystery Science Theater in Arabic isn't Weird Enough...

2007-06-11T21:47:00.000-07:00

Remember Fido Dido? He was everywhere in the 1990s. In fact, I think he was the face of Pepsi.

Well, he is still the face of soft drinks - in Turkish movie theaters.

Tuesday, May 15th

2007-06-10T14:04:00.000-07:00

Guess who is back?

CAPTAIN TOMMY!

And he rides a motorcycle! My platonic crush continues.

Steve: "I really don't care if he's back. I'm tired."

Monday, May 14th

2007-06-06T02:45:00.000-07:00

These are our room stewards, Caesar and Marianito. They both hail from the Philippines. Neither pronounces my name right. They both call me, "Cat-ee."

One day, Caesar took my arm and used his keycard to enter one of the rooms on our floor that he had just cleaned. "Who is dat, on the bed?" he asked me. "Who dat?" Marianito was behind him, giggling.

Lounging on the bed was a monkey, made of towels, with bits of chocolate for eyes. His arms were behind his head and the remote was next to him.

Of course I loved it. The next night, we came home and found this in our room - a monkey hanging from our ceiling.

Marianito took a very bad fall while decorating a passenger's room for his or her birthday. So bad, he had to go home to the Philippines. He is expected to take three months to recover, followed by up to a year of physical therapy. His leg was botched by an Egyptian doctor that operated on it right after it happened.

Caesar is busy training a new room steward, who is very nice, but not Marianito. Caesar looks like his best friend got sent home from camp. I know their friendship helped the long days of cleaning rooms for passengers a lot easier.

Get well soon, Marianito. Love, Cat-ee.

Saturday, May 12th

2007-06-03T05:11:00.000-07:00

Day two was Earrrrrrrrr-ly. We got up very early, checked out of our hotel, and bid good day to our disgusting bus bathroom before heading off to the Memphis museum.

At this museum there are huge, huge, huge statues of King Ramses II. Huge. Out of control big.

Ramses was kind of dreamy.

Then, our Great Pyramid Appetizer was a visit to Saqqara, where we actually got to go inside a pyramid! We went inside the Pyramid of Teti, and, in all the excitement, neither Steve nor I bothered to figure out who he was.

The Pyramid of Teti is the one that you can readily enter, without having to sign up. Some pyramids only allow as few as 10 people to enter each day, or some are completely closed off. The insides of most of the pyramids are off-limits due to a lack of oxygen inside. So, with that in mind, it comes as no surprise that entering the Pyramid of Teti is a terribly claustrophobic experience. You can see how tiny it is, and how I had to pretty much bend myself in half to fit.
You aren't supposed to take pictures inside the pyramid. I don't think this is out of respect, because we found out you can take pictures pretty much anywhere in Egypt if you give the guy who told you not to take a picture some money. The shot of Steve and I cost 1 Euro. Enjoy.

We also got to see the famous Step Pyramid of King Djozer. The step pyramid is the technological predecessor to the style of pyramids such as the Great Pyramid. It's kind of like how the Walkman is to the iPod. There is a hole in one of the blocks outside the Step Pyramid that we were told to peer into. Hidden inside is this statue of King Djozer himself.

It was then onto the Giza Pyramid Complex. The big time.
The three Pyramids are as follows: the Pyramid of Khufu (also known as the "Great Pyramid," the "Pyramid of Cheops," and the “Pyramid of Holy Crap. How Did They Ever Do That?”), the slightly smaller Pyramid of Khafre (his son), and the Pyramid of Menkaure (or, “Baby Pyramid”).

There are also three smaller pyramids on the outskirts, presumably the graves of the King's wives.

Here is the cast just hanging out in front of one of the Great Wonders of the Ancient World.

Oh, and then we rode a camel.

This may be one of those times where the relationship between writing and pictures gets a little rocky.
The pictures pretty much sum it all up. I guess I could try to sum it up in words, too. We spent our last day in f*@king Cairo, Egypt (Egypt. As in, Africa. As in The Great Pyramids. As in riding camels. As in The Spynx) riding a f*@king camel in front of the Great Pyramids and the f*@king Sphinx.

Let the record state that riding a camel is very soothing. It is a smoother ride than even a horse, and camels don’t get spooked like horses do. This doesn’t change the fact that I clutched my Paxil bottle as the camel initially rose up with Steve and I on it, or when the camel behind me sneezed on my leg.

But it was nowhere near as scary as being in that parasailing boat in the Bahamas. Maybe I’ve grown since then. Or gone nuts since then.

But how many crazy people can say they rode a camel in front of the Great Pryramids? Or, more accurately, how many nuts say they did it and are actually telling the truth? Probably about 73. And now I’m one of them.

Friday, May 11th (part 2)

2007-06-02T05:56:00.000-07:00

After the Citadel visit, we went to the Cairo museum. Statistically speaking, if you were to look at every artifact in the museum for 10 seconds it would take you 9 months to see everything in the place. We got to see the treasures of King Tut, including the famous funerary mask, and it only reiterated to me what a rip off the exhibit at the Field Museum this Summer was. I mean, we got to see EVERYTHING. No pictures were allowed, of course, so you'll have to go to Cairo yourself when you get a free moment.

Lunch and a much-needed rest was had at the Le Meridian Pyramids Hotel. When they say Pyramids, they aren't kidding. This is a picture of me on our balcony. And those are the Pyramids. Mind blowing.

We then went to The Official Papyrus Institute. Papyrus is a plant that is found in Egypt that is made into paper. Going to the "Official" Papyrus Institute in Egypt is sort of like going to the "Original" Ray's Pizza in New York - every papyrus institute we saw claimed to be the official one.

That is because you can be easily duped into buying what you think is papyrus paper, which is extremely durable and long-lasting, and actually get paper made out of bananas. Kind of like thinking you are getting New York style pizza, but you are actually eating a recently thawed Tombstone pizza.

It was then on to what many feel is an absolute travesty - The Sound and Light Show at the Pyramids. Admittedly, the presentation is kind of cheesy - laser lights flash on the three Pyramids and the Sphinx, all four of which can talk. I'm not kidding. These monumental structures are voiced by Shakespearian-sounding English men and women. They talk about their feelings (the littlest pyramid sounds a bit like Baby Bear in the story of Goldilocks), and what they have seen in their thousands of years of existence. The Sphinx is the most vocal of the four structures, presumably because it actually has a mouth.

I know why people hate the light show, but I have to admit I didn't mind it. First off, it was our first sight of the Pyramid Complex at Giza up-close, and I have to admit when I saw the head of the Sphinx so close to me, tears happened. Yup, I got weepy. You just never think you will see these things in person, and there they are, right there in front of you.

Secondly, I realize it seems absolutely absurd, and even a tad blasphemous, to have rock concert-like effects and voice-overs and the like at the spot of the only remaining Wonder of the World, but to me it makes perfect sense. In fact, I think the Ancient Egyptians would condone it. These structures were built so that the people inside them, and all they represent, would live forever. They are immortal, so much so that we have taken their graves and incorporated them into a state-of-the-art, money making event. Their wish has been granted.

We then went to a restaurant that floated us down the Nile River while we enjoyed traditional Egyptian entertainment, like a belly dancer who mostly just showed off her boobs, and a singer who crooned, "My Way." This guy twirled until you thought for sure he couldn't twirl any more. Steve loved it.

And then, bed. Actually, we watched a lot of TV first. I got to watch Conan! And, oddly enough, Mystery Science Theater 3000 was on Egyptian Television. So that's where that show went.

Friday, May 11th

2007-06-01T05:40:00.000-07:00

When we found out we were going on this four month contract, Steve and I both assumed we were spending half of our time in the Caribbean and the other half in the Mediterranean. Not a bad gig. However, when Steve was home over Christmas, he was showing off our itinerary to a couple of friends at www.ncl.com, when he stumbled upon a nice treat – our itinerary included a stop in Egypt, or, as we began calling it out of pure disbelief and excitement, F@cking Egypt.
As it turns out we have three stops in Egypt over this contract.
The ship itself docks in Alexandria, Egypt, a huge port city. Cairo itself is 3 hours away by bus. Hence, the Shore Excursion Desk is quite busy as pretty much every single person on board, including a lot of the crew, wants to head out to Cairo.

Each stop in Egypt is an overnight, meaning the ship stays docked in Alexandria until the next day. That means no curfews for getting back on board! And it means you get to stay overnight in Cairo if you wish.

The Shore Excursion team offers a fantastic package for crewmembers to travel to Cairo. It is almost half-off the price of the passenger package and it is the exact same trip, complete with a stay in a five-star hotel. The trip includes visits to all the major museums and attractions and your meals. It was a ton of stuff packed in just two short days, so I am breaking up the trip into a couple of blog entries, so you don't get overwhelmed by the fantasticness of it all.

In fact, the worst part about the trip was having to use the bathroom on the bus. Which reeked. And literally emptied out onto the road. Yep, when you flushed it just went onto whatever was below.

Our first stop in F@cking Egypt was the Citadel built by Muhammad Ali – the leader, not the boxer, and a trip to the mosque he commissioned, called the Alabaster Mosque. It is an exact copy of the Blue Mosque in Turkey, and it is breathtaking. It is lit only by three hundred and sixty five lanterns that hang from the ceiling, representing every day of the year.

I think we were still overwhelmed that we were in Egypt, and I know I personally didn’t listen to a word our tour guide said about the Citadel and the mosque. I was too busy adjusting the fact that I was in another place.

And I think I really wanted it to feel foreign. I wanted to feel extremely out of my element, but I didn’t. Once I got over the Arabic signs and the camels and the armed guards, I realized it is really hard to feel out of place anywhere when you are American and with a tour group and a lot of the money made that day will be directly from your visit. You are being catered to. And I wonder how much was suppressed, how much resentment or curiosity the merchants and tour guides silenced so that it didn’t interfere with our spending.

We were sort of hurried out of the mosque because it was going to close its doors to non-Muslims. The call to prayer was bellowing all over Cairo, reminding us that this attraction is still used for what it was built for. And that there is still a whole world beneath the surface and the pictures and the tour guide’s words that we will never get to experience.

Wednesday, May 9th

2007-05-28T05:44:00.000-07:00

The famous “Crossing” cruise is officially over. I’m actually going to miss these people. They finally know their way around the ship, Rascal Scooters zipping around hallways and the like. And Steve and I grew attached to a lot of these folks. Interestingly enough, 180 guests are staying on for the next cruise, which is a mere 12 days long, and includes a little trip to a little country called EGYPT!!!

We docked at the port city of Piraeus, wished the debarkers well, and walked for about 15 minutes to the train station. We popped a few Euros into a ticket machine, hopped a train and shortly
thereafter found ourselves on the streets of Athens.

I cannot stress enough how lucky we are that we go to the majority of these ports at least two or three times during our 4-month contract. We get to do some re-con. We get to wander around without the This-is-Our-Only-Time-to-See-This-Place-Pressure that the guests on the cruise have. Simply put, we get to do some guilt-free farting around.

Today our little group didn’t feel like seeing the Acropolis. Yeah, I said it. We didn’t feel like dealing with the steep, often treacherous tour. We just didn’t feel like seeing another ancient part of a city. We weren’t in the mood. And that’s okay. We’re going back to Athens three more times.

Instead, we shopped and ate our faces off.

We wandered around the shopping areas, stopped for coffee, wandered some more, stopped for a snack, wandered some more, and then went crazy in a couple of stores including ZARA, my new favorite H&M-type place. Jennine and Amanda, one of the youth counselors, accompanied me as we ransacked the main shopping area in Athens. Steve and Dave were having Greek coffee and reading newspapers in a lovely square, very far away from their shoe-salivating partners.

We eventually all met up, including our musical director, Dave, and Kris (dancer) and Tony (wardrobe supervisor), and proceeded to be pummeled with one of the best meals we had all ever had. We just sat down at this big table, ordered a few things, and the food just kept coming. "Lamb Kabobs....for you, for you," our server said. "Yogurt and honey...for you, for you," another server said.

And when we got the bill, the stuff we didn't order and even some of the stuff we did order, was nowhere to be found, charge-wise. We chalked it up to the Greek Hospitality, but then figured that we were a big group at a restaurant on a main street and the more food they put out the more passersby leered. It worked. By the time we left, the entire restaurant was full.

Then it was wander time. Get sort of lost time. We went through parks and public squares, saw lots of tired dogs (don't worry - I had saved some of the chicken from our big feast and made sure to dole it out to the pups), had a drink, and watched others do the same. You know, life.

It was a great day in a fantastic city. And we're going back very, very soon.

Monday, May 7th

2007-05-27T02:52:00.000-07:00

Escort work again.

Today it was time to take the guests to Olympia. Olympia is the birthplace of the Greek Tradition of Arbitrary Plate Smashing. Kidding. It is, of course, the birthplace of the Olympic Games.

I freaking love the Olympics. I cry when people win, and cry when people lose. I love watching human beings perform things that seem impossible – watching people do things I could never dream of accomplishing. I had butterflies in my stomach on the way there. The place where the Olympics were born!
The ruins of the Temple of Zeus, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World! The complete frustration when I realized that I probably shouldn’t have escorted a tour that I wanted to take myself!

Yep, such is the rub. You go on the experience for free, but you pay dearly with a lack of really experiencing the place that you go. I tried so hard to listen to Nota, our lovely tour guide, and take pictures and enjoy the fact that I was walking through the arch that so many athletes, worshiped as Gods, passed through so many years ago.
But that wasn’t what I was primarily there to do. I was primarily there to make sure the guy in the Fredericksburg, Virginia shirt didn’t get lost.

Things I was able to glean from Nota:
*”Hitting the showers” meant jumping in a filthy river behind the gymnasium.
*Everyone on the grounds was a nudie. This was to make sure that no women were in the area. A bunch of naked, severely athletic guys running and jumping and ... hoo boy.
*As you entered the stadium itself, there were various statues of Zeus lining the pathway to the entrance. A criminal paid for each of these statues to be made.
The criminal’s name was displayed prominently upon it. It was considered to be an extremely severe punishment to have to commission one of those statues, as everyone would mock your name as they entered the stadium.

And…that’s about it.

I’m going to take a break from escorting for a bit. We get 20% off the excursions anyway. Jennine, Steve, and Dave, who also went to Olympia today as escorts, feel the same way. It’s worth the $50 or so to have someone else be the Mama Duck. Quack.

Sunday, May 6th

2007-05-24T14:57:00.000-07:00

Katie here, your friendly Shore Excursion Escort. Since we last spoke I have graduated from zipping around on a bus with disabled folk to actually doing walking tours. Of ruins. In Greece.

The first place I went to was the ruins of the Palace of Knossos. "Palace," in 2,000 BC meant, "A big place where people hang out." Sort of like a mall.

The Palace of Knossos is also considered the home of the mythical Minotaur, a half-human, half-bull creature that lived in the Labyrinth.

Anyway, Katerina was our tour guide. She had never given a tour in English - only Italian. She also was a low-talker. Hence, all the guests hated her instantly and I spent most of the tour trying to get them to relax. Instead of relaxing, most of the guests just replied, "You should give the tour - you're loud enough."

These holes in the ground are speculated to be "sacrificial wells," which is a nice way of saying, "We found a bunch of dead, rotting bones in them. The bones of young girls"

A rich white guy named Sir Evans is the one who uncovered the palace complex, and he seemed to think that the area I'm standing in was a theater space. So, I got to stand in a real Greek Theater. The guest who is taking my picture made me recite a few lines from the show so I could say that I had actually performed in such an ancient place.

I wonder if, in 2,000 years, people will be perusing the ruins of The Mall of America, marveling over the remnants of the giant Snoopy balloon. And an aspiring actress like myself will stand on the ruins of a mall stage that once hosted not-so-prolific acts such as "A Salute to Flag Day," or one of the American Idol contestants from Season Four who got voted out in the first round. And standing there will mean much, much more to her than it actually did to anyone way back then.

A Bit From Steve Re: Egypt

2007-05-24T03:29:00.000-07:00

I would just like to point out that this is not a joke. This really happened as we were leaving the site where the Step Pyramid is. Here's Steve:

Steve: "Egyptian street merchants don't like to take no for an answer.

We were warned about it, but it was much more intense than I expected. They want to sell their wares and they are willing to haggle, small-talk, barter, walk with you for miles, whatever it takes. You can't afford to show any interest or make eye-contact because you will likely invite ten-minutes of conversation consisting mostly of you saying the words "No, thank you."

They've learned to take advantage of Westerners' mostly polite way of dealing with strangers. They know we won't just ignore them, so they stay in our faces until we buy something just to get some peace. And I'm sure it works.

As we were leaving one of the pyramid sites, I got an interesting offer on what someone perceived as my wares. An Egyptian merchant spotted Katie and yelled at her, "Shakira! Shakira, I love you! I want to marry you!"

He then proceeded to follow me asking, "How much for the girl? How much? I give you fifty-thousand chickens! Fifty thousand chickens, sir! Good chickens!"

Fifty thousand chickens? What am I going to do with fifty thousand chickens? How would I get them home?

"Sorry," I said, "She's not for sale." I felt very authoritative.

As we boarded our bus he plaintively yelled, "Sir! Sir, I promise, sir! I will send you twenty camels every year for her! Every year twenty camels!"

Katie and I sat down on the bus. I turned to her and said, "That's crazy. How would I even track this guy down when all of sudden, after a couple of years, the camels stop coming?"

She didn't think it was funny."

It wasn't funny. I got low-balled.
Anyway, we'll talk a lot more about Egypt soon.

50,000 chickens. Sheesh. I'm worth at least 60,000...(Katie keeps muttering to herself, even though this blog entry is over...)

Friday, May 4th

2007-05-19T09:42:00.000-07:00

Perk number 7,234 about our job with Norwegian - we can sign up to escort tours and shore excursions and therefore get to take the trip ourselves for free. Well, not totally free - we have to make sure no one gets left behind, answer some pretty inane questions, and write up a small report about the day. So, it's basically free.

For our 1st day in Naples, Steve and I decided to sign up for some of the tours. We can't be on the same tour, so Steve picked the excursion to Pompeii that included a very intense hike up the volcanic rocks.

I chose a bus tour for disabled people.

Walkers, wheelchairs, leg casts, you name it. After all we did in Rome the day before, it was just my speed. The tour consisted of an air-conditioned bus tour around Naples, with a stop at the top of the hill to take photos and another stop at a cafe to have an ice cream, which was included.

Our tour guide was Umberto, who had to be all of 22 and all of 5'4". He was fantastic. Tour guides provide for some wonderful psychoanalyzing. When a person is talking that consistently for that long, you learn a lot about their subject, but even more about them if you listen closely. I loved how Umberto would throw in little bits about soccer anytime he could and how he flipped out about how boring all the buildings built during the Fascist Regime were.

These lovely ladies were the biggest pains in the ass. They were sweet and eager but they were always about 75 feet behind the group and would buy ANYTHING from ANYONE. I mean it.
They bought absolute crap for ridiculous prices - like a postcard for 2 Euros or a ball that could stick to a wall for 5 Euro. Nothing says Naples like a cheap Koosh Ball that can stick to a surface for 30 seconds.

This bus tour was popular not only with people who weren't really into walking but also with people who were scared of big cities. Naples isn't the nicest city in Italy in the sense that it is unafraid to hide the fact that it is a big city, with crime and poverty and graffiti and loitering. You know, life. The way people acted when they saw a pack of kids outside a building with a shoddy facade and spray paint on it you would have thought they were looking at militants in Anwar Province.

We weren't let out of the bus until we got to an area where the buildings looked like this:
and none of the balconies had laundry hanging from them.

Openly drying laundry seems to be the international sign for "I'm going to get jacked in this part of town." Laundry hanging out to dry, however, is also a very popular photo subject, as people went nuts with their cameras every time they saw it.

We were also let out for ice cream at a cafe called Gambrinus. Sorry, Gelato.
Gambrinus is a legendary king of Flanders, and an unofficial patron saint of beer or beer brewing. Of course we weren't allowed to get a beer. Ice cream is safer.

It was definitely more of an anthropological study than a study of the city. But, I enjoyed my safe little tour. We're coming back to Naples very, very soon. I'm looking forward to exploring it on foot and taking pictures without a bus window in front of me, as taking pictures of something through the window of a bus is kind of like watching fireworks on TV.

I just know when I see clothes-pinned garments to grab my purse a little tighter.

Thursday, May 17th

2007-05-17T11:09:00.000-07:00

You get what you give. The love you take is equal to the love you make. You need input for output.

I’m not talking about the gastro-instestinal issues again. I’m talking about how, as a creative-type, you have to always get stuff into your mind so the stuff that comes out is richer and more vibrant than just your own junk that’s been knocking around up there.

As of right now, my mind is drunk on input. In the last week I have seen the Palace of the Minotaur, the site of the first Olympic games, and the freaking cities of Athens and Cairo, not to mention our little jaunt to Italy.

I will write about it all soon, but right now my mind has the spins and needs to sober up. It was a lot to take in and I find myself going a little crazy.

When I need to mentally sober up I usually channel surf. We have six channels on our TV, so it doesn’t really work and I usually end up having to settle on FOX News.

Here is a sampling of five minutes from today’s edition of "FOX and Friends," which is like Romper Room for Right Wingers:

*The exploration of the question “Are Trees Contributing to Global Warming?” followed by comparing trees in warm climates to trees in colder climates by using the word, “ironic” inappropriately.
*This was followed by a discourse on why the black chick was voted off American Idol.
*Keep in mind this was all facilitated by my least-favorite FOX News Anchor Trollop, Megyn Kelly. Your first name is spelled wrong, you flat-ironed haired skank.

Now I feel like I'm on acid. And it’s a bad batch, man.

Please forgive me if I nurse my Amazing Sights and Adventures hangover for a couple of days. With the television off, of course.

Monday, May 14th

2007-05-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

The first grey hair on the head of a twenty-something woman. A slight shaking on the streets of a major city above a fault line. A long dormant volcano emitting a wisp of hot smoke. These are bad signs, heralding something really awful. The cruise ship equivalent of a grey hair or minor tremor is a passenger or crew member reporting to the Medical Center stating, “It’s coming out. Both ways. And it won’t stop.”

The alarms sound. We have a “Code Brown” - the first sign of a gastro-intestinal disorder, or simply, “G.I.”

G.I. is a nightmare for a ship. We are in a very enclosed environment, breathing the same air, touching the same food, sharing the same over-priced cocktails. It is very difficult to contain, and for the past couple of days we have been getting used to our utensils being handed to us by a rubber-glove wearing crew member, our hands sprayed with sanitizer every time we enter a new room, and our ears perking up every time we hear the words, “I’m not sure I feel so well.”

Today was supposed to be the debut of the Second City, our first public appearance as performers on this 12-day cruise.
We were scheduled for rehearsal at 11:00 AM today, but Jennine was doubled over in the medical center waiting to hear the inevitable – You. Have. G.I. So, the four of us (and our musical director) began working out a way to do a four-person show – we’d done it before (Blog trivia! Why did the cast have to do a four-person show in the past? Answer at the end of the entry!).

Then we got a call that Jennine would be fine, but would have to be quarantined – a standard procedure on ships – for at least 24 hours.

And, so would her husband and roommate and vital cast member, Dave. Even though Dave felt fine, this ship isn’t taking its chances.

Hence, no show tonight, and a lot of DVD watching, room service, and trying to stay sane for Dave and Jennine.

The show has been rescheduled for Wednesday. Our Cruise Director made the announcement several times today that our show had been changed due to a, “Misprint in the Freestyle Daily” which is the ship’s newsletter.

I’m a little nervous that people are going to think this is a scam. The Second City cast finally has to work after being paid to traipse around in exotic lands and suddenly they are “quarantined?!” Well, here’s a bill for not holding up your very, very miniscule end of the bargain – it is labeled, “You aren’t going to hoodwink us, you free-loading hippie actors. Nice try.”
(Trivia Answer: Our very first show on the Jewel was a four-person show because Steve went to L.A. to become famous.)

Thursday, May 3rd

2007-05-05T10:15:00.000-07:00

Professor Greg Gilbert turned me into an Art History Nerd. His art history survey course was by far my favorite class in all the seven years it took me to finish college.

So, it comes as no surprise that I was uber geeked-out to go to Rome,
the Eternal City where all the folks with slightly better than average art knowledge love to get together and pray for their tour guide to say something a bit incorrect so they can raise a hand and set the record straight.

We will be in Rome 4 more times on this adventure, so Day 1 was spent almost entirely in the walls of Vatican City.

As of the end of 2005, there were 558 people with Vatican citizenship, of whom 246 are dual-citizens of other countries (the majority being Italian).
Here is a breakdown of the peeps that live there:
The Pope;
58 cardinals;
293 members of the clergy who serve as diplomatic envoys abroad;
62 lesser-ranking clergy members who work in the Vatican;
101 officers, NCOs, and men of the Papal Swiss Guard; and
43 lay persons.

I guess this study forgot to mention the 75 million people that are visiting the Vatican at any given time. Like the 200,000 people that were shoved into one body-odor reeking room that I think was the Sistine Chapel, but I couldn't be sure because they were able to get more tourists in there by letting them walk on the ceiling.

The study also forgot to mention the 50,000 that visited the Tomb of the Popes with us. The people who couldn't listen to the countless announcements in every language that say, and I may be paraphrasing here, "This is a sacred place. Please observe silence and refrain from taking photographs. Wow. You people really can't shut up for more than 3 seconds, can you? Hey, Buddy, do your vacation photos really need to include a picture of the tomb of Pope Felix IV?"

I know I was in the middle of tourist central, I know. I know I shouldn't have been surprised that every other person in St. Peter's Square was on his or her laptop.

And I love that so many people want to see these amazing feats of art and craftsmanship. And I'm not going to kid myself that people are flocking to the Vatican in droves to pay homage to the Catholic God. But, I just thought that if anything could make people pause, make people feel something that wasn't palpable, something that couldn't be bought from a street vendor for 5 Euros, it would be this place. In fact, at the time of their creation, these beautiful works were sort of akin to the CGI/fireworks/car crash spectacles that leave us breathless today. They were commissioned to combat the loss of Catholics due to the Reformation. Art was the old school special effect.

These works, like the Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel and Bernini's Baldacchino on the alter of St. Peter's, are concrete proof that if God exists, Man is one of his most amazing creations. The fact that Man could create such works, using the tools and materials of the Earth itself, is testament to the awesome power of Mankind. They left me in awe.

And the rude, pushy, photo-happy fanny-packers and their fat, screaming children left me in awe as well.

It sounds like I didn't enjoy myself in Rome, which would be a terrible impression to leave.
Even waiting in line after line (here's me waiting in line to use the restroom in St. Peter's...God's Restroom!) was a bit more magical when doing it near the tomb of St. Peter.

I had waited so long to see so much of these works in person, and I guess I neglected to realize that I would be seeing these works "in person" so much as "with persons-" loads and loads of them.

My favorite things about the day were the rooms in the Vatican Museum besides the Sistine Chapel. We saw ancient sculptures from Greece and Rome. Unlike the Baldacchino, which was roped off and seemed so very far away and so out of reach, these sculptures were right out there, to be interacted with. I got to stare into the eyes of Medusa and not get turned into stone. Steve got to put his arm around Caesar.

And there is a garden outside the Sistine Chapel where you can breathe. You can watch little interactions between God's own funny and fantastic creations - Men, Women, and Children. It is quiet, and there is sun and sky.

In the end, it cannot be denied that Bernini achieved what he set out to do when he created the plans for St. Peter's Basilica. The colonnades that extend from either side of the church's facade were meant to symbolize the arms of the church, welcoming the faithful, embracing them and leading them into the church's walls. It worked then, and it still works now.

Even if not everybody is impressed by it.

Wednesday, May 2nd

2007-05-05T09:38:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it is God. I don't know if it is a coincidence. I don't know if it is nothing. But, yesterday I had a bad day. And today I saw dolphins.

I was working out (in the health club that is free to me, I know I know) at my favorite elliptical machine. It is my favorite because it has a television with a working remote and it is right in front of huge glass windows that fabulously let you sweat as you watch the ocean go by.

I was dreamily looking at the water, wishing that I could jump in for a quick cool down, when I saw a brown and grey dolphin jump out of the sea. Followed by another one. And another one. And one more. Just playing along side the boat on their way to find fish or whatever. You know, life.

I screeched, "Dolphins! Real dolphins!" and pointed and waved my lanky arms in the direction of the creatures. But, it was a bit too late. I don't think any one else saw them. That's okay. I needed them pretty badly for myself.

That night, we saw Africa. Real Africa. We stayed up until 1:00 AM to watch as we passed through the Strait of Gibraltar. We couldn't get the best of pictures as it was very dark, but these are the lights of Morocco off the starboard side of the ship.

If you crossed through the ship to the port side, you would see Spain. We ran back and forth, looking at Spain, then Morocco, Europe then Africa.

We also passed the Rock of Gibraltar, but again, the darkness didn't lend itself to good snapshots. The rock is a symbol of strength, of invincibility. The British were so protective of this rock, that they planned on burying 6 soldiers alive within it to attack during WWII if the Germans tried to conquer it.

And with the passing of the treasured rock, we officially left the Atlantic Ocean and entered the Mediterranean. And, we had officially survived the crossing, harbor seals be damned!

Tuesday, May 1st

2007-05-03T10:43:00.000-07:00

Today was a bad day.

Actually, it was quite a nice day. We had a lovely dinner at Tsar's Palace, saw a fun comedy show from one of the ex-writers from Benny Hill, we laughed, we all chatted...on paper it was a very nice day.

But today, it all hit me. Like the beer-bellied old man with goggles on getting whacked in the stomach with a cannonball, it hit me.

I live on a ship. I am very far from home. I haven't been able to call my family in almost a week. I am always behind someone riding one of these:

I am never, ever alone. I always have to watch what I say. I always have to be friendly.

I cannot go grocery shopping. I hate grocery shopping. In fact, I use PeaPod. But the fact that I can't go grocery shopping made me upset.

It's been two months, and it is bound to hit, and today is when it hit. And please don't give me the, "Children are starving in China" speech. I know my life is fantastic. I know I'm going to Rome on Thursday. I know I'm getting paid to perform and travel around the world.

But, I still think I might feel better if I go into one of the lounges and yell "Bingo!" and run away.

Not Even Posed. No Joke.

2007-05-02T05:33:00.000-07:00

Here is a neat picture from Funchal. We were making our way back to the harbor.

If this cast ever has a traveling band, this would be our album cover. I guess we’d have to call the record, “Jennine is the One Taking the Picture.”

Sunday, April 29th

2007-05-01T05:39:00.000-07:00

Having this blog really pissed me off today as we explored Funchal, the capital city of the Madeira Islands.

Before I explain to you why I got so peeved, let me first explain to you where and what the Madeira Islands are. Because I didn’t know. And if you did, let me be the first to point at you and say, “Nerd!”

The Madeira Islands are controlled by Portugal, and are located about 360 miles off the coast of Africa and about 535 off the coast of Lisbon. Funchal is located on the island of Madeira itself, and is a large city known for its wine (glass of port, please) and boasts the Guinness World Record for biggest fireworks show – which happens on New Year’s Eve. It is also known for it’s beautiful flowers and trees and overall flora-type stuff.

There. I saved you some Google time.

Funchal was so beautiful and so fulfilling that I became angry. I was annoyed that I had to write about it in this blog because I knew I would never be able to accurately sum up our day on the island.

But, I’ll try. If only because it was the first inkling of land we had seen in six days and deserves a bit of pomp for that fact alone.

Funchal looks like an amphitheatre, as the city begins at the harbor and rises up, about five miles high. Cozy. The first thing we did was pay 10 Euros a piece (or about $780 American – just kidding. It’s about 14 bucks) to hop in a tram that would take us to the top of Funchal. Remember Paradise Point in St. Thomas? Try higher off the ground, higher up into the sky, and various hard, concrete highway and homes below you, not soft, possibly life-saving shrubbery.

It was terrifying, but I did it and survived. (Hey, are you noticing a pattern of risk taking, subsequent fear-conquering, and personal growth? Me too!)

The view was breath taking, even for those without anxiety problems. There are purple trees in Funchal. Not CGI, not made of silk, not an illusion. Real trees full of real purple leaves.

When we got to the top, we began walking around and exploring the gardens, the paths, and a beautiful church that was at the top of a hill. It was dedicated to Emperor Charles of Hungary who had died in Funchal and had a nice little shrine dedicated to him, his coffin included. Then, we too got “Hungary” (boom!!) and decided we wanted to go back down.

The best method of getting down the mountain island of Funchal is by bobsled.

Portuguese men, often dressed like Venetian Gondola drivers, pull you down the sides of the island on bobsleds (for 25 Euros per couple), flying you down the cobblestone paths of Funchal. We were all up for doing it, as it is the definition of, “When will I ever get a chance to do this again?” But, alas, the line was too long and the bobsled men we quite tired and the main bobsled man informed us that they were closed, but he could easily get us a taxi down the hill for 45 Euros.

We declined. But the bobsled man persisted, concern peering through his obvious sales pitch.

“It is a…very, very, steep you know. (Points at Dave, who is wearing flip-flops). You not wearing shoes for this. Very, very steep. You - I give you taxi for 40 Euros.”

We replied, and I may be paraphrasing here, “No, thanks. We’d rather walk five miles down at a 45 degree angle because we are obviously huge jerks.”

And for the next hour, we scaled an island. On foot. Downhill, of course.

On the way down we got to see all the homes on the island, as they are built into the hill. Every home has a fantastic garden, a beautiful patio, and at least one dog, sunning itself lazily. It was a Sunday afternoon, so we got to see folks hanging out their laundry, playing cards, tending to their gardens – you know, life.

Our legs still ache, but it was definitely one of the most fantastic thing all of us had ever done.

When we got to the bottom, it was time to eat, and we had a lovely meal in the town’s main square.
The town has fantastic cobblestone streets with mosaic patterns woven into them, little, European-style alleyways, the cleanest air imaginable, and trees and flowers and flowers and trees.

I am willing to bet that the majority of the people reading this will probably never visit Funchal, because it really is sort of off the map. Like Steve said earlier about the middle of the Atlantic being somewhat uncharted territory for visitors, the Madeira Islands are the same way. It seems like the way things are going in the world more and more places are becoming dirty tourist traps and, worse yet, more and more places are becoming off-limits, even to the most adventurous of travelers. We have the means to go anywhere we want, but are becoming less and less welcome, especially as Americans.

It was something amazing to visit a place that felt like our footsteps weren’t sinking into the footsteps of millions of backpackers and tour guides and warriors and families and joyful hearts and broken ones that had already completed the journey we were beginning countless times before us. It felt pure. And I think we all walked away a little lighter, feeling like our steps had fallen a bit heavier than normal.

Friday. April 27th

2007-05-01T03:58:00.000-07:00

I write this in a state of shock.

We almost lost Steve last night to a rogue harbor seal that forced its way onto our vessel.

Steve has been doing his calisthenics as of late, watching his Jack LaLane video reels diligently, so he was able to put up quite the fight.
Now in the ship’s infirmary, his wounds are being treated with the most advanced of medical resources – leaches and the like.

Sweet Lord, may this crossing be over soon! I cannot bear the torment!

Thursday, April 26th

2007-05-01T03:52:00.000-07:00

Here you can see the cast before our first show of the Atlantic crossing.

Nonetheless, these shows were, by far, the best ones of the entire trip. The audiences were fantastic. Old people know how to party.

Tuesday, April 24th

2007-05-01T03:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Loved Ones,

I hope you can read these words that I wearily type. It is only the third day of our crossing and I am clearly mad.

The Garden Café has closed down the Kid’s Corner, as the youngest person on this ship besides us is 57. Hence, I am in the middle of the ocean with no dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.
I stared at Steve last night, fearing I may have to result to eating him. I then realized I would probably find more meat on my own body, and abandoned the plan.

Here is a picture of the sea. We haven’t seen land in days, and all the television stations have long disappeared. Damn you North American satellite cable! Our only connection to the land we have left is Fox News. Bill O’Reilly, Neil Cavuto and the gang are following us wherever we go. I fear I may be under the spell of Mitt Romney, with his Mormon, fund-raising smile, as I find his policies quite rational. I find myself thinking John McCain is in his right mind, and that the "Bomb Iran" song was cute.

I hope this is still coherent. I miss and love you all.

Respectfully,

Catherine Rich

P.S. Send salt.

Steve Waltien Presents: The Crossing

2007-05-01T02:53:00.000-07:00

Steve: "We are in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. The real middle. We have a channel on our TV which shows information about the boat. It gives us the temperature outside, number of miles traveled, etc.
It also gives us a GPS representation of our position. If you were to look at a map of the Atlantic ocean and try to put your finger in the exact middle of the thing, that's where we are.

We're also pretty much in the middle of our contract. Looking at the vast ocean behind us and in front of us is an interesting visual representation of it.

What's weird is that of all the places we are going to go on this journey, this is the one I am most amazed by. Maybe it's because when you go to Rome or Barcelona, you are standing in a place billions of people before you have stood (there's actually something uniquely wonderful about that too), but here, in the middle of the ocean, is a place relatively few people have been.

We haven't seen land in almost five days. The horizons are endless.

While walking on deck 7 today I saw another ship in the distance. While this was very common in the Caribbean, I haven't seen anything but water since we began the cross. I was so excited I ran for the camera only to find the ship too far out of view by the time I got back. What was that ship's story? It didn't look like another cruise-liner.

Yesterday I saw a flying fish pop out of the water and hover for a few moments like a hummingbird and then pop back down in.

Nothing around us and more than we can imagine underneath."

What the Heck Kind of People Cross the Atlantic by Ship Nowadays?

2007-04-30T05:12:00.000-07:00

In the 17th century, a trip across the Atlantic Ocean meant a hazardous and, at best, unpleasant voyage of at least six weeks on a small wooden ship.
Our crossing on the lovely Norwegian Jewel from Miami to the Mediterranean takes us 15 days.

So, the kinds of people onboard are the kind of people who can get away from their land-life for 15 days straight.

There are only about 20 folks on board under the age of 18, and most of them are home schooled. A lot of them have parents who are a bit older (i.e. the youngest child on the ship, who is 2, has a mother of 46 and a father of 61) and who are planning on staying in Europe after the cruise ends to travel and sightsee.

The working-aged folks usually come from careers that are high paying and pretty autonomous, like information technology. Most of the couples don’t have children. And, there is a pretty sizeable gay population on board as well.

So that accounts for about 56 of the 2,000 passengers. Which means that the vast majority of folks who can afford to leave home for 15 days straight are retired. And the vast majority of folks who are retired are over the age of 65.

Old people rule this ship.

In fact, the couple pictured here won Sunday night’s round robin basketball championship.

Gone are the Spring Breakers, with their backwards baseball caps and unsolicited, “Wooooooooo!” screams. Gone are the families with screaming kids who had to pull so many strings to even afford 5 days away from their jobs. And gone are the days in the library where you could sit and read without 4 to 5 people farting every hour.

Yup, these old folks fart. Loudly, often, and without apologizing. In fact, people on this cruise fart everywhere, in the elevators, by the pool, at dinner, and the majority of them don’t even know they did it, or have reached the age where they just don’t care.

Nonetheless, Steve and I have both said that these are our kind of people. Everyone reads. No one is hammered and screaming the lyrics to Jimmy Buffett songs. And, you can always blame it on the retiree sitting next to you.

Sunday, April 22nd

2007-04-29T05:10:00.000-07:00

The day has come!

Today, we set sail for Europe!

We spent our last afternoon in South Beach with Beth (you remember Beth, right? Our boss?) and Piero, our other friend from Chicago.
Both had been on the Norwegian Pearl, Beth overseeing things and Piero directing the new cast. We met at our usual spot, the News Café, and caught up and laughed and enjoyed the company of our friends from home.

When we returned to the ship (the last time we have to deal with the Fascists at the Port of Miami!) it was time to make phone calls. Everyone is canceling their cell phone service, so it is phone cards and email from here on out. It was really hard, talking to my parents. I’ve never been away from home for this long, let alone on a ship across the ocean. I was teary and homesick, and Steve and Cody noticed.

So, like the good boys they are, they decided to make me laugh. We were one of the last ships to leave the port, so as the other ships, mostly filled with already-drunk twenty-somethings slowly passed us by, the boys lifted up their shirts and waved good-bye to the Carnival ships off to the Caribbean. I couldn’t help but feel better.

When it was time for sail away, the cast (and Charles Bach, the magician, who is back!) all went up to the top deck

and watched as Miami faded away.

It was a sight that provided a lot of mixed emotions. It was exciting, of course, to think about the journey ahead of us. But I got pretty sad, too. And nervous. And overwhelmed. And thrilled. And weirded-out.

But, mostly excited. I mean, who gets to do this kind of thing?

The weather was decent, but it was quite windy. It was drizzling a bit here and there, which led to a lot of rainbows, and a lot of sunbeams breaking through the clouds, shining down on the good ol’ U. S. of A.

We watched the land until it was long gone, finding solace in the notion that while so much was ahead of us, there was a tremendous amount waiting for us when we got back.

Godspeed, friends!

Saturday, April 21st (evening)

2007-04-28T19:09:00.000-07:00

There is a transient nature to ship life, natch. Contracts end, people decide not to re-sign, folks get transferred to a different ship, etc. In what has been such a fantastic surprise, we have grown quite attached to some of the crewmembers beyond just our little Second City family. In what has been a not-so fantastic inevitable, a lot of them left right before we began the crossing. All of these lovely girls (except the blonde, amanda, on my left) are gone. They are youth coordinators, and we love them, especially Junkyard (on my right) who colored me a t-shirt.

On Saturday night, we went to dinner with Kyla (pictured here between Jennine and what looks like a Katie who is overdosing on cough medicine) who is one of the principle dancers/singers. She will be going back to her home Vegas. Accompanying her
will be Nick (pictured here with my uvula) as he will be trying to see what Vegas is all about while living in Kyla’s spare bedroom. Martini also left (blog trivia: what item of Katie’s does Martini always steal when drunk? Answer at the end of the entry!) to go back to New York, where he was the dance captain for the musical “Hairspray.”

After dinner, we went to see the mainstage show in the Stardust. We mostly went to support our friend Nate, who is also one of the dancers, and who would also be leaving the next day.

Nate is a gymnast who does very impressive and ridiculous aerial feats, as you can see here. During this show, he accompanied his “How Can a Human Being Do That?” tricks with a bit of a more traditional theatrical performance. He told a story about how he always loved gymnastics, but like most people, went on to college and did something completely different – business school. He got a great job and became one of those insurance suits whom you call when a loved one dies. Nate’s job was to take all of the deceased's assets and literally determine the value of his or her life.

Well, Nate feared someone else determining the value of his life, so he quit, went back to what he loved to do, and never looked back.

And that is what I’m going to miss most about these people - they are doing what they love to do, making sure their lives are worth the most to them and no one else.

Ship goodbyes are weird because I feel like you didn’t really know these people for very long, but it was an accelerated pace at which you got to know them. You saw them everyday, whether you wanted to or not, and they became a part of your landscape.
It didn’t really set in until we went and saw the new dancers perform their first show. They were great, of course, but it wasn’t the same. It looked off, like when, unbeknownst to your little child mind, one of your uncles or teachers would dress up as Santa for Christmas and it just seemed weird. Like, okay, that’s Santa but it also isn’t and I can’t really pinpoint why. I missed my new /old friends.

(Trivia answer: Her bra. Which he would happily wear over his clothing)

Saturday, April 21st

2007-04-28T04:57:00.000-07:00

Our last day in the Caribbean. Yipes. We are already halfway done with our contract.

The day was spent on Great Stirrup Cay, Norwegian’s private island. We got all beached out, and boarded the tender boats, which threw us around in the pretty rough sea. When we got to the island, we had bar-b-que, and sort of did our own thing. Cody hiked the island, Jennine and Dave laid by the beach and Steve and I found a hammock and quickly learned the art of reading and napping somewhat simultaneously.

I wish that were the whole story.

Not only was it our last day in the Caribbean it was our last full day in America. So, in a very American display of stupidity and hubris, Steve and I decided to go parasailing.

In our defense, we were given a hefty crew discount (half-off!) and I had never done it before, and you only live once. We signed the contracts sober, and relaxed in the hammock until it was time for our adventure.

It was terrifying. And it wasn’t even the parasailing part that was all that bad (although Steve and I were yelling some pretty obscene things when we realized that the Jamaican men who were operating the whole deal didn’t listen when we feebly told them we didn’t really want to go very high). It was the boat ride. Remember when I said it was a rough sea? Well the boat we were in (along with 12 other people) was very, very tiny and very, very influenced by the mighty ocean. I’m pretty sure it was very similar to one of Dante’s circles of Hell. We were whipped around, drenched to the bone, thrown against each other – all to the delight of the Jamaican pros in charge.

But I didn’t yarf. And neither did Steve. And, even though I shook so hard that people kept giving me towels because they thought I was freezing when really I was terrified, I did it.

I’ve always believed that one of the cornerstones of an anxiety disorder is a fear of losing control. And, one of my goals with this trip was to prove to myself that I had really gotten to a healthy place with my little problem. Well, floating 500 feet above the Atlantic Ocean with only a battered rope tethering you to the Earth and the wind dictating your every move sounds a lot like giving up control to me.

Anyway, we did it. And we never, ever, ever need to do it again.

P.S. I know there are no pictures of us actually parasailing, but that was because our camera was nearly ruined by the 70 foot waves that pummeled our little boat.

Friday, April 20th

2007-04-25T19:09:00.000-07:00

About once a week the Second City teaches a workshop for folks aged 13 – 17 in the Teen Club. The Teen Club is a hilariously decorated place, with “things” on the wall that “teens” would think are “cool.”

For example, the walls are covered in tagging – words like “Bodacious” and “Keeping it Real” don the walls in the same style as “Latin Kings” would don the overpass of a highway. I’m sure they paid an artist thousands of dollars to do what a 12-year old kid does for free everyday.

Thinking I was doing a nice service, during our improv set the night before the workshop I happily wore my Kid’s Club shirt (colored for me by the lovely Youth Counselor, Junkyard) during my intro and plugged the workshop, saying it was open to 10 – 17 year olds. Oops!

We decided to just go with the flow and do the workshop with the big age gap between some of the participants.

Guess what? It ruled. It was awesome to see these kids/young adults play so well together. And the greatest thing about kids is that they aren’t self-conscious enough to worry about being funny. In essence, kiddies are the best improvisers because their responses are pure reactions to what has just been said. They aren’t really into being clever or impressive. Yet. It was evident what puberty and a few years of high school will do to your ability to not care what other people think.

The funniest workshop participant by far was this adorable, tow-headed 10 year old, pictured here doing a game called, “Conducted Story.” I was the conductor and the rules are when I point to you, you must speak, and the group works together to tell a story.

This kid did this Dr. Phil/Oprah thing that was so funny that he looked shocked at how much we all were laughing. Because he didn’t think it was funny. He was just responding to what the previous person had said and logically followed it up. It killed.

I hope he never grows up. Improv-wise.

Tuesday, April 17th

2007-04-24T10:31:00.001-07:00

There are a few “must-dos” when traveling. You kiss the Blarney Stone. You drop a coin in the Trevi Fountain. And, when in the Caribbean, you drink $18 beer-by-the-yard at a place like Senor Frog’s.

Tuesday was our last day in Puerto Rico, and we decided to go to Senor Frog’s, which, if you are lucky enough not to know already, is a chain establishment that is synonymous with Girls Gone Wild videos, binge drinking frat boys, and the very forced promise of, “The Most fun You’ll Have in the Caribbean!”
So, after a last visit to our favorite café (the servers bought us a round!) we made the trek to the place where they had recently shot an episode of Spring Break: MTV. As you can see, Cody got there first, and, with his backpack and high self-esteem, didn’t feel terribly comfortable there.

The only girls going wild in the joint are in their early to late 40s and everyone (not just the toddlers, of which there were a few of in the bar, horrifyingly enough) is wearing a balloon hat. The clientele’s apparel is pretty homogenous – ill-fitting denim shorts and souvenir t-shirts from other Caribbean locals. You quickly learn which Hard Rock Cafes many have been to. There are a lot of early to late 40s men (presumably the companions of the aforementioned “girls” gone wild) who are urged to chug a yard of beer in one gulp. Yes, a yard, as in almost three feet. And many do it. Their shirts are also emblazoned with such quips as, “I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” “Drink until she’s cute,” or the overwhelming favorite, “It’s 5 o’clock somewhere!”

We ordered our drinks, which gave new meaning to the words, “I’ll have it in a tall glass.” You can see by our toast that I opted for the traditional bottle of Coors Light, which gave the bartender a bit of trouble, as he tried to locate a beer of such Lilliputian size.

But then the strangest thing happened. We…started having fun. And it wasn’t the drinks, because we’d have gone broke if we’d had more than one. Jennine started taking part in the silly contests they had there – here, in a singing contest, she proclaims herself, “Katie Rich, from Chicago, Illinois.” We cheered her on, and she won with her rendition of “Me and Bobby McGee.” Steve started treating his balloon hat as one of the gang, feeding it beer and such. And I even won a couple of rounds of name that tune

And that’s what pissed me off the most about Senor Frog’s – that I had a lot of fun. Like Bill O’Reilly dancing and laughing at a gay rights BBQ hosted by Rosie O’Donnell, I had to admit that I enjoyed myself in place that I, for the most part, disagree with strongly.

I think one of the reasons we had such a good time was because we had had so much time to really take Puerto Rico in. This wasn’t our only day there. I think it is a shame that folks with only one day in San Juan spend it in a cheesy, chain bar. You can get drunk on over-priced cocktails at home. San Juan is beautiful and charming and inspiring, and I hope some of those “Hard Rock Café – Cabo” people got to experience that.

And, of course, I was with some of the most kind and hilarious people I have ever met. Anything we do is fun, because we do it in our own twisted way. When I was admonished by the DJ for not standing on my chair like everyone else in the bar, I told him I couldn’t stand on a chair due to my prosthetic knees. So I had to cheer and sing from the safety of my folding chair. We all laughed, despite making the DJ pretty uncomfortable. It just goes to show that it’s not where you are but who you’re with that really matters.

Bring on the McDonald’s in Rome!

Call You From Egypt

2007-04-22T10:22:00.000-07:00

Hi Loved Ones!

Today is our last day in North America!

We will be updating as much as possible during the crossing.

Hope all is well!

Katie and Steve

The Crew DVD Store

2007-04-20T12:08:00.000-07:00

All of us Second City cast members volunteer one day a week in the crew DVD store. Steve and I work on Mondays. The rentals are completely free, and there are a ton of movies, concerts, TV shows and the like. This is purely for the crew’s entertainment, as each crew cabin is equipped with a DVD player.
Originally, I wanted to work in the store as a way to give back to the hardworking crew members (who work about 80 hours a week while we work about 15), and to get to know some of the crew that I wouldn’t normally spend time with, and make some new friends.

The DVD store does not carry “adult” movies. This is a sore subject with a lot of the crew members, as they are predominately male and predominately very far away from their home and their loved ones.

As a result, our most popular rentals are, “Into the Blue” with Jessica Alba, “National Lampoon’s Dorm Daze: Unrated,” and any gory horror movie like, “Saw,” which, statistically speaking, will probably show boobs at least once or twice.

Fine. This doesn’t bother me. In fact, rewind and fast forward the Shannon Elizabeth scene in “American Pie” all you want if it makes cleaning up after fat, whiny cruise passengers a little bit easier.
But then a portly gentleman from the Food and Beverage Staff returned a couple of movies. One was, not surprisingly, “National Lampoon’s: Pledge This” starring Paris Hilton who is sort of like a walking adult film.

The other DVD was, “Pilates for Beginners.”

This gentleman was defiantly not using this DVD as an introduction to the fitness regime of Pilates as he looked like he has swallowed a small horse. Okay, fine. Benefit of the doubt, probably a one-time deal, saw ladies in spandex on the cover, figured he’d give it a shot. So Steve and I had a laugh, Steve re-shelved it, and we moved on.

Five minutes later, another portly crew member handed me a DVD he wanted to rent – “Pilates for Beginners.”

It is hard to make lasting connections with these crew members when they cannot even look you in the eye because they know that when Denise Austin demonstrates how to do “Scissor Kicks,” they aren’t exactly into the educational aspect of the routine.

But, a few minutes later, I look up and see Manuel. Manuel rents the Star Wars movies over and over. Manuel has the childlike quality of someone who probably pops in the Star Wars movies at night to help him fall asleep, as they are as comforting as a favorite blanket – a little reminder of home.

As I’m filling out his slip for “Return of the Jedi,” instead of writing, “Manuel” I write, “Luke Skywalker.” We both laugh, and now are surely friends.

A Few Thoughts From Steve

2007-04-17T10:54:00.000-07:00

Steve: "Recognition of status is hard-wired into us thanks to evolution. When our species was evolving, it was important for us to recognize leaders in our tribes, to put them on a proverbial pedestal, to care about what they did. They needed to inspire some feeling in us, even when they were just walking around, so that when it came time for the hunt, we would be inspired to follow their lead and to protect them. This is probably why, even after tribal life is mostly left behind, humanity has been able to so easily idolize kings, dictators, and- more recently- celebrity chefs, reality TV stars, and socialites all
out of proportion.

We get to experience a little small-scale celebrity sometimes on the ship. People see our shows and then see us walking around and sometimes they get excited. On this ship in the ocean, away from the rest of the world, we are the comedians of the tribe. We're given some importance. Maybe it's just that we stand on a stage in front of hundreds of people at once and speak that makes some reptilian brain part think we are the leader, giving instructions for the hunt.

But that brain is being fooled.

In the event of a hunt, or something really important, like a charge to the life-boats, Katie and I are the last people you want to follow. And we know it.

That's why we've placed our idolatry right where is belongs. In the lap of Tommy Stensrud of Norway, the Captain of our vessel. It became clear shortly after boarding that Katie had developed a non-sexual crush on Captain Tommy (she believes his anatomy is probably like that of Ken, Barbie's woefully unendowed partner).

Katie swoons when Tommy's voice is heard on the loud-speaker. She becomes nervous when Captain Tommy is nearby. She wants to see him, but is afraid of him. What if she doesn't know what to say? On Saturday, we found out that Captain Tommy was departing our vessel for a month or so to attend a conference and enjoy some vacation time. We
sprang into action. Katie made a painted sign, and we ran up to the bridge viewing area in the hopes of meeting Captain Tommy before he left and maybe getting an autograph. Captain Tommy graciously came out and autographed his sign and took some pictures. He confessed that he had not been able to see our show, but that he would be sure to catch it (!!!!) when he came back on board. He was awesome. I thought Katie was going to die."

Note from Katie: "Tommy said he'd be back by the time it was my birthday (SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!)"

Thursday, April 12th

2007-04-15T19:20:00.000-07:00

After Jennine and I ransacked the duty-free make-up shops in downtown St. Thomas (Gold eye shadow tax-free? Yes, please) the cast met up at a place called Paradise Point. As the name implies, Paradise Point is very high up above St. Thomas and one must ride in a suspended cable car to reach it. The ski lift-esque mode of transport reminded Steve of many happy memories on wintry ski slopes in Vermont. It reminded me of the fact that it only takes one frayed cable to become a statistic.

But we survived and enjoyed an amazing view of the ocean and the islands and even our floating home, which looked like a tiny toy boat. We also enjoyed a fantastic lunch at what is deemed “The Home of the Bushwhacker.” A Bushwhacker is a drink made with Bailey’s, Kahlua, vodka, light rum, Meyer’s Rum, and whipped cream. It was like eating a liquid cake. A cake gets you drunk. Luckily, we had our show that night, so we all enjoyed only 1 of the treats each, although Steve finished most of mine along with his and began saying things like, “I’m gonna walk down the hill you guys, I don’t need the tram,” and, “You guys…I love you guys,” and, “I could fight a tiger if I trained pretty hard, right you guys?”

Oh, and Cody fell in love with a mermaid. She said she couldn’t give him her number because she was made of stone. That’s the second time a lady has turned Cody down using that excuse.

Tuesday, April 10th

2007-04-14T14:57:00.000-07:00

Okay. Enough free Internet and Bacardi Rum. Today, Steve and I actually explored the walled city of Old San Juan. Fun “Manifest Destiny”-type fact: When we won Puerto Rico from Spain in 1898 (USA! USA!), Old San Juan became the oldest city under the American flag as it was founded in 1521. In the good old days when things like sugar cane, New World spices, and gold were considered luxury items, Spain stored much of its booty in San Juan before shipping it home. Hence, Old San Juan is a very guarded place that tried to keep riff-raff out, like Caribbean pirates and British people. The walls around Old San Juan are actually comprised of two different forts – El Morro, built in 1539, protected the city against attacks by sea, and San Cristobal, finished in 1740, fought off attacks by land.

We started at San Cristobal, and found much happiness in hiding in the Garita del Diablo, or the Devil’s Sentry Box, which, as you can see, is no longer as ominous as its name implies. Although it did smell a little like pee. The view from these nooks is amazing, as you can see nothing but the ocean crashing below and around you, and the expanse of the fort along side of you.

Between the two forts is the most beautiful cemetery I have ever seen, and I’ve done some Harold and Maude-type exploring in my days. The Cementerio de San Juan features a beautiful domed chapel. Almost all of the graves are above ground. It is the final resting place of many important Puerto Ricans who I guess were important enough to be spared the whole six feet under thing.

Walking past the cemetery and towards El Morro, we found nothing but beautiful, green hills and a bunch of people flying kites and having picnics. The domed chapel of San Cristobal peaked out above the grass, as folks chatted and snoozed and thought about things they did and were going to do. You know, life.

And I think that’s why I love Old San Juan so much. Unlike the other ports we’ve been to, Old San Juan doesn’t feel at all like it was created for tourists to enjoy. It really felt like we were exploring a place that was happy to have us there, but sure didn’t need us to survive. We got to see life and history. We got to sit and daydream about what it was like when those fortresses were used not for beautiful backgrounds in photographs, but to defend a city with priceless treasure in its center.

2007-04-12T07:59:00.000-07:00

In deciding to take this journey, I consulted a vast number of people. My parents, my aunt, my sister, my friends, people who had done the boats in the past, my bosses, and I even had a chat with the cat that lives in my house.

One person I consulted I did so without his knowing. Or, maybe he knew. I wouldn't be surprised.

The advice he gave me I carried with me until it was time to leave for the cruise. I literally carried it with me:

"Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God."

Thank you, Mr. Kurt Vonnegut. I hope everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

Sunday, April 8th

2007-04-10T13:20:00.000-07:00

It's good to be back.

Blood is Thicker Than Cookie Dough Blasts

2007-04-10T13:06:00.000-07:00

So, it was pretty fun to get to go to Vegas and film a commercial and eat so many Sonic Cookie Dough Blasts that I yarfed and stay in a sweet hotel. But you know what the best part of it was?
That my Dad

and my Mom (who is going to kill me for using this picture because she is so much prettier than this)

came to Las Vegas to see me. I didn't think I was going to get to see them until July, but what do you know?

It was so great to see them and catch up. Because I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them. In all senses of the term. Their support is absolutely priceless.

I love you, Mommy and Daddy.

Thursday, April 5th

2007-04-10T12:39:00.000-07:00

So, the reason I got to travel to Las Vegas was to film my second commercial for Sonic, the drive-in fast food company that has absolutely no locations where I live. In fact, the first time I had ever been to a Sonic was to film the first commercial.

You've seen these ads - two people in a car, waxing poetically about tater tots and coney dogs. This is the monitor that is in the car that is hard not to look at, so they eventually took it out.

This is Pat Piper, the man who conceived the ads, which started out as him and his buddies driving to rival fast food drive thrus and asking for things that you can only get at Sonic.
He is a big, Irish sweetheart and I love working with him.

The ads are mostly improvised, and I was lucky enough to film this one with my friend Sayjal, who is a star at the ol' i.O. and ComedySportz in Chicago. We had such a great time together. We shot the commercial in the evening, and the Sonic was still open. One of the servers there, who was wearing roller skates as Sonic servers tend to do, had never been on skates before or was extremely sensitive to gravity because she was falling. It was hilarious.

After the shoot, Kim (make-up/waredrobe, wearing the blue shirt) and Denise (producer, wearing white)
and Sayjal and I went and got some libations and had a low-key evening in the "production" suite. We popped popcorn and talked about our feelings. Just kidding. There was popcorn, though. It was such a blast.

Until J.R. (producer) started wearing my clothes. What can I say? This was day 5 for them and they were exhausted. I'm sure the libations had nothing to do with it, either.

Wednesday, April 4th

2007-04-08T01:58:00.000-07:00

So I flew my behind off today. Antigua to Atlanta and then onto Vegas. On the way to Atlanta I sat right behind the first class section. I know I sound like the last person to do it in a pervy teenage comedy like American Pie, but I have never sat in first class. EVERYONE I know has sat in first class, even people who I am surprised they let on a plane in the first place.

But, if I can't get all the champagne and hot towels I want, I can at least see what it is like to take a first class pit-stop. Right?

Wrong.

All the lavatories were full for us huddled masses in coach, so I went to use the bathroom that was 15 feet away from my seat, and I was stopped by the first class stewardess who very curtly put up her hand and waved it towards me like I was a leper and barked, "Back! Back! Back!"

I checked my skin to see if I was covered in sores or if I had a wild dog following me but I didn't. So I gave her a look that very kindly said, "If you think you can treat me like that you do not know my ability to write a strongly worded letter to your superiors. And nice face lift. You're not fooling anyone, Joan Rivers."

She must have gotten my subtext, because when I returned from the groundlings bathroom (which was outside the plane) she asked me if I needed anything. And I sucked down that Diet Coke she brought me like it was my job.

Anyway, my bruised ego was salvaged from the aviation caste system when I got to my hotel in Vegas. It was the Signature, attached to the MGM Grand, and it was nicer than any hotel I have ever stayed in. I had a bathroom that was bigger than my apartment. And a full-on kitchen! With a toaster! I haven't seen a toaster in months! I even had a sitting room. I bet that stupid stewardess doesn't have a sitting room at her hotel.

Anyway, the sweet hotel room was enough pay back for me to decide not to call Delta and complain about the service. However, if I did call and complain it would have looked like this: But, here is what you can't see in the picture - I'm calling from my BATHROOM! Take that!

Happy Happy

2007-04-08T01:30:00.000-07:00

Mr. and Mrs. Waltien (and Ali, Steve's sister, and Louise and Lily, the dachshunds) sent us Easter baskets! Right to the ship. These Easter baskets were filled with yummy candy, a lot of it made in Steve's hometown of Shelburne, VT. Steve really loves candy, so he was really, really excited. In fact, he finished all of his candy in about 5 minutes. I was notorious as a child for saving my Halloween candy for an absurdly long time - sometimes until the next Halloween. So, I was planning on saving my candy for a while. The basket was so pretty that it was hard to think about diving in and messing it up.
I was getting ready to go to bed, when something happened and I just sort of passed out. I'm not sure what happened, but I had a bruise on my cheek and when I woke up all of my candy was gone. Oh, well. I just felt bad because I was going to share it with Steve, and now it is all gone.

In all seriousness, thank you so much for the Easter greetings, Waltien Family!

Sunday, April 1st

2007-04-08T01:08:00.000-07:00

Tonight, Steve and I decided to go on a nice, romantic date at Cagney's, the steak house on the ship. (Blog Trivia! When did Katie go to Cagney's before this? Answer at the end of the entry!) The day before, we had been sitting outside, eating a late lunch at the back of the ship. The sun was starting to set. "It would be nice to have a romantic date before I leave for Vegas," I had said. Steve pointed out that we were eating lunch while overlooking the beautiful ocean and sky - a view that we would easily pay $100 a person for. Things become kind of romantically relative on the ship, I guess.
Cagney's is set up with a very subtle mobster feel. There are some mug shots on the walls, like the one behind Steve.
But, like everything on the ship, it can't go too far with anything because cruises are all about including everyone and not offending. So there is just a dash of an organized crime-feel in the restaurant - not enough to make anyone think of body bags, but enough to make me remember that the final season of the Sopranos starts in one week and I will miss it. Sigh. I guess I'll just have to visit Italy to soothe the pain. (Blog Trivia Answer? For Matt Craig's birthday! For those of you who also pointed out that I am wearing the same dress I wore the last time I went to Cagney's, shut up.)

Thursday, March 29th

2007-04-08T00:42:00.000-07:00

St. Thomas. Beach day. Let's do this up. We decided to take a trip to Morningstar Beach which was beautiful and sandy and sunny and wavey. The boys all impressed us with their fish-like swimming ability and the beach front restaurant impressed no one with it's ability to charge $18 for a hamburger and $5 for a can of Coors Light. It was one of those days where you look around at your situation - playing with new friends on a spectacular beach - and you just keep thinking, "This is preeeeetty all right."
Then we met this guy! He was just chilling, eating gourmet iguana food (read: grass). Like a bunch of jerks, we cooed over this guy like we just hadn't seen anything at all amazing that day, like a picture-perfect beach. I tried to take him home in the cab with us, but settled for a high five. Speaking of cabs, getting a cab in St. Thomas is one of the most stressful and bizarre experiences. You are attacked every step you take by cab drivers, cab dispatchers, and cabs themselves wanting to take you everywhere for what might be a very inflated price. Luckily, Cody and the gang were pros at this and knew that $6 per person was too much for Morningstar, and negotiated our price down to $5! Bring it on, bartering in outdoor markets in Greece!

There is a Cat in the Airport

2007-04-04T10:50:00.000-07:00

Look at these two! Aren't they cute, eating sushi together?
Shouldn't they be cruising together?
Well, they aren't.
But, get this...STEVE is on the ship still.
I'M the one who is leaving.
Yep, I'm off to Vegas to film another Sonic commercial - shilling burgers and Coney dogs...LIVING THE DREAM! Hopefully, this one will air this time.
I am in the open-air Antigua airport. Apparently, the World Cup of Cricket is going on as we speak. Everyone seems non-plussed. Except my cab driver, who I think thought the stick shift was a cricket bat. Oh, and that my life was expendable.
And there is a cat in the airport. It has a food bowl. And the jerk security guard (even though he didn't point out there are matches in my carry-on) is watching me like a hawk because I want so desperately to take a picture of this cat. But, no pictures in the airport, please. Because the cat might be working for the bad guys, I guess.

Tuesday, March 27th

2007-04-03T11:05:00.000-07:00

San Juan is a beautiful city with a rich history and much to offer its visitors. Which is why, after checking our email for free in a cafe, 13 of us piled into a van to make a trip to the Bacardi factory and take a tour.
It was very educational. I learned a lot. First off, drinking Bacardi products will make me look like a model, have lots of fun at clubs, and make me a really good dancer. I also learned that not drinking Bacardi rum basically makes me a supporter of Communist Cuba. Oh, and rum is made out of sugar cane and molasses. Oh, and Bacardi has a bat as its logo because the first distillery that the Bacardi family bought was infested with fruit bats, so they deemed fruit bats as a sign of luck and family unity. Talk about taking lemons and making lemonade...with rum! Boom! I'm hilarious.

That’s a lot to learn for a free tour, right? Especially when there is alcohol at the end of it. We each got two free Bacardi drinks of our choice as a reward for learning about the company. Also, there were these bulls everywhere, so I guess rum comes from bulls, too.

In the end, giving people free alcohol is a good way to prey on their guilt, because now I do feel like I owe Bacardi something, and will probably purchase their rum the next time I purchase rum. Which, based on my previous frequency of rum-purchasing, will be sometime in 2015. Or sooner, considering I don't want to be a Communist.

Sunday, March 25th

2007-03-30T11:47:00.000-07:00

Miami Day again. This time we went to the Bayside Mall, which is an arduous half hour walk from the port. I say arduous because there is no real path to Bayside. You traverse highways and grass and industrial areas. But, it’s worth it because then you are at a mall with a Gap and a Sharper Image (The Place to Get The Stuff You Need That You Really Don’t Need At All) and a food court, which, when you are stuck on a ship 24/7, are all a collective oasis of the land life you never thought you would miss so much.
The best thing about Bayside Mall was that we got to hang out with our friend, Ben Johnson, who is finishing up his Second City stint on the Norwegian Pearl. Ben is one of my (and Steve’s) favorite people and seeing him for lunch was such a fun time. We pretty much compared notes (talked “ship”) and then just laughed and laughed and laughed. Three people who knew each other well, hadn’t seen each other in a while, and didn’t have to censor themselves around the NCL cameras. It was great. Hi, Ben.

Friday, March 23rd

2007-03-30T11:27:00.000-07:00

I hang out in the spa a lot. The woman’s spa consists of a steam bath, a sauna, a plunge bath, and a hot tub. It is right at the front of the boat and features cozy chairs that look right over the ocean and a fully stocked table with tea, water, coffee, and fresh fruit. The part of the boat with the floor to ceiling windows that juts out? That’s the spa area. I have achieved various states of Zen bliss while reading in the spa, most of which end in me waking myself up with my own snoring.

The spa is usually empty during the day, especially when we are in port, but today was a sea day and it was busier than usual.

I was joined in the hot tub by a blonde woman in her late 50s. We began chatting, and her sister, Kim, came in and said, “Oh, it’s you!” She had seen me in the show the night before and had, for some reason, really taken a liking to me. “I don’t know, there was just something about you – I loved watching you on stage.”
I came to find out that the two women were on vacation with about 22 other women. It was a woman’s retreat for recovering alcoholics who also happen to be practicing members of AA. I then realized why Kim felt a connection to me. I’m not a member of AA or a recovering alcoholic, but I’ve had some pretty low times in my life, and, as happy as I am, there is still a little bit of pain that follows me around wherever I go.

“Religion is for people who don’t want to go to hell,” Lynn told me. “AA is for people who have been to hell and never want to go back.”

I talked to those ladies in the spa for a very long time that afternoon. They made sure to say goodbye to me before they left the boat on Saturday. It is amazing how people who have been to hell seem to find each other, even in the middle of paradise.

Where we Live

2007-03-27T13:35:00.000-07:00

So, we live on a boat.
Isn't that weird?
This is our backyard. The Sapphire Pool on Deck 12.
We live in room 8572. Well, we almost got kicked out due to some Ecuadorians wanting our cabin, but the cruise director vetoed it. Notice the fish on the floor. The fish are always swimming forward. It is a nice hint if you are lost and trying to get home.
This blue/white dome-looking thing is our own personal droid. Just kidding. These are hand sanitizers and they are everywhere. Everywhere. This entire ship is my father's dream come true - people always telling you to wash your hands.
This is the Blue Lagoon, the 24-hour eatery on board. It is located pretty much outside our door, so that is convenient...for becoming a FATTY. They serve dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, burgers and french fries. Mmmmmm...Notice the beautiful floor to ceiling windows. I love to have breakfast in there and write and watch the waves.
Here is a view from the Garden Cafe, which is the buffet/cafeteria eatery on board. Our first week here I'm pretty sure Steve and I were certain we would never, ever get sick of all these options. Kidney Beans! Stir-Fry! Dinosaur-Shaped Chicken Nuggets! Don't worry, it all got old already.
Here are elevators. We try to avoid them and take the stairs as to combat becoming a FATTY. See Blue Lagoon for reference.

And we really live here. Our room. Kept fairly clean, thanks to our fantastic stewards, Marianito and Caesar. Fox News is on the TV in this picture. I just realized that. Now you know how few channels we have.

A Word With Steve: re: The Crew Pool

2007-03-27T11:26:00.000-07:00

Steve here.
Katie and I have a new favorite TV show. It's called 'Front Boat.' "Front Boat' is a 24-hour camera feed of the front of the boat that is routed to one of the channels on the TVs in all the cabins. I guess this is so you can check from your room at all times to see where the boat is heading. Katie and I find 'Front Boat' fascinating. We sit and watch it and wonder what will happen next to our favorite character, SAM, the rotating satellite who spins on the front of the ship. His name is painted right on him. 'Front Boat's camera is mounted from about where the bridge sits, so it takes in about thirty feet of the front of the boat including SAM, some large anchors and deck space, and a small pool that no one ever uses.
This is the crew pool. Crew members can use it if they can find their way to it through the maze or corridors on deck seven forward.

Well, a little while ago, Katie and I found our way out to the crew pool and enjoyed a nice afternoon in the sun. We read a little bit, swam, and even got to talk to SAM. We were careful not to bother him too much though. I bet he gets annoyed by that kind of stuff. The only drag is that 'Front Boat' is a live show and we don't have any TiVo or anything, so our episode aired while we were doing it and we never got to see it. Yesterday, while talking to my mom on the phone, she said, "It doesn't matter if you never see yourself on TV. The important thing is that you're having a great time." I'm not sure
how she knew about the whole 'Front Boat' thing.

You have Problems?

2007-03-25T09:01:00.000-07:00

You may not know this, but I have problems.

About 7 years ago I was diagnosed with panic disorder. In the simplest of terms, your nervous system has a gas pedal and a brake. The gas pedal kicks in when there is danger (i.e. you have to fight and/or run away from a tiger) and the brake kicks in when the danger has passed. My gas pedal is broken, and tends to floor itself even when there isn’t a “tiger” in the room, like when I am watching a movie or simply sitting at a restaurant with my friends.

The past few years have been very hard, learning how to deal with this strange and terrifying disorder. There were times when I couldn’t leave my house, when the idea of going to the grocery store was too much for me. I needed to be near hospitals, near main roads and cars, just in case I got an attack and needed to be saved. Because you really do feel as though you’re dying – like your body is caving in on itself and your heart and mind can’t take it. There were times when I simply up and left a social engagement, jumping in a cab to flee to my bed. I’ve worked and worked and worked to not let this thing take over my life, as it does take over so many peoples’ lives completely. For many people, Panic Disorder is the master that controls their every move.

I was never one to listen to authority.

I will never defeat panic disorder. That’s like saying I’m going to defeat the freckles on my shoulders. There is no winning against it, but you can definitely lose to it. I chose not to lose, and to live with my lot, accept it, and when it comes over uninvited I can simply acknowledge it but not let it ruin my dinner.

I think the greatest thing about this cruise is that I am doing it. I am living in a tiny cabin that is often in the middle of the ocean or docked at a very remote island with no hospitals or cabs or warm beds to hide in. I’ve even been able to do it alone, as Steve has been leaving the ship here and there.

And I’m not saying I don’t feel it creeping up on me sometimes. But I never feel helpless. I never thought I would ever be able to do something like this. I am so grateful that my reward for my good fight against my body’s inability to know when it is time to fight is this beautiful adventure, with old friends and new. You might even say it was all worth it. You might.

Tuesday, March 20th

2007-03-23T14:04:00.000-07:00

I’ve been watching a lot of Six Feet Under lately, which I’m sure sounds like a perfect complement to a Caribbean cruise. As the name implies, Six Feet Under is a show centering on the Fishers’ who own a funeral home. So, yeah, there’s a lot of death. But, like all smart writing, both sides of the story are told, and in the end, although we can’t escape the inevitable, it always seems like the living win. Because they have the ultimate advantage – life.

One of my favorite scenes from the series involves the long dead Father Fisher coming to talk to his son, who is in a bit of a paralysis in regard to his life choices. Mr. Fisher simply says, “You can do whatever you want, you lucky Bastard! You’re alive!”

Today I walked around Old San Juan on a beautiful path by the ocean and the old forts. San Juan used to have a horrible problem with stray cats, and these women began taking care of them, spaying and neutering them, giving them food, and finding them homes. These cats live in the rocks that sit by the ocean. It really is a surreal scene – these majestic, almost archaic forts protecting this rocky beach, waves crashing up against the sand, and literally everywhere are these little, sweet cats, poking out from the black rocks. It seems like they shouldn’t necessarily be there, but the place wouldn’t be as magical if they weren’t.

These experiences have been making me feel quite lucky lately. Quite lucky to…well…Be.

Sunday, March 18th

2007-03-23T13:40:00.000-07:00

Today I tug along with Cody, Jennine, Dave Keaton, Charles, and Kris Geddes, who is one of the main dancers and also the Crew Welfare Chairman, to the Dadeland Mall in Miami. The mall is a solid trek from the port, and the cab ride is $50 one-way.

But, with Kris being on official crew welfare business, the cab rides were covered by NCL - as was the $4,200 we spent at Best Buy! Yes, our mission was to snap up laptops and iPods and digital cameras all for the crew welfare raffle and DVDs to add to the ever growing DVD rental store we have for the crew. Did I mention we spent $4,200...in cash? Thanks, NCL!

If that wasn't enough, the absolute highlight of the day was getting to eat at a traditional American, fat-laden, over-proportioned chain restaurant. We headed directly to The Cheesecake Factory, where we proceeded to order almost everything that we couldn’t get on the ship (i.e. a decent burger, jambalaya, crab wonton, and diet cokes from the fountain – not a can). We tried to eat it all, we really did, but we were sent home defeated, our doggie bags our Scarlet Letters.

Steve met us there for a quick hello/goodbye before embarking on his arduous flight(s) from Miami to Seattle to Ontario, CA, and then a late-night drive to LA. Needless to say I ate all my leftovers that night.

Perhaps the AFLAC Duck Next Time?

2007-03-22T09:39:00.000-07:00

Steve is back. No pilot. No four hours of make-up/prosthetics everyday. No lonely Katie traipsing around St. Thomas by herself on a bicycle built for two.

It is both disappointing and okay.

But you can see my tentativeness in accepting his return.

Saturday, March 17th

2007-03-22T09:21:00.000-07:00

So, after our improv show last night (dubbed “The Second City: Scriptless) things got a little crazy. The shows are held in here, the Spinnaker Lounge on deck 13. We perform in the round, which provides from some awkward staging, but for the most part is fun. And we still get to wear those cool drive-thru/Madonna concert microphones.

The show went fine, and afterwards fun was to be had. Here you can see the boys living it up. What you don’t know (and let’s pray they don’t either) is that they are dancing to “I Feel Like a Woman” by Shania Twain. We will chalk it up to irony and move on.

As the night progressed, the boys went to play poker and Steve finally went to bed, leaving me, Jennine, crew member Lorena, dancer Kelsey, and the very fabulous dancers, Nick and Nathan (aka Martini, aka the guy wearing a bra outside his shirt).
Hoo boy.
As you can see from the pictures, we were having a blast, which was mostly centered around an impromptu “America’s Next Top Model” walk-off, which, as you can see by the bra he somehow procured, Martini won.
Afterwards, much overeating was done in the Blue Lagoon, our 24-hour eatery on the ship. I think it is a very good idea to have a burger AND fish and chips at 3 in the morning, don’t you? Now that’s freestyle cruising! We are so lucky to be surrounded by such fun and kind people, even beyond our wonderful cast. The dancers and crew members are quickly becoming part of our Boat Family.

Oh yeah, and I guess it’s St. Patrick’s Day. Erin go Brach.

Laundry-Schmaundry

2007-03-21T22:20:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I know. We COULD just let the stewards do it, but we have pride. Lazy, lazy pride.

Update: The pictured laundry has been done! A new pile is surely on the way. And by surely, I mean it is.

Friday, March 16th

2007-03-21T05:30:00.000-07:00

Our Friend Charles Almost Died

The aforementioned Charles Bach is the magician on the ship. He has a lot to live for. He is getting married on 7/7/07 to a lovely lawyer named Magdalena. He is kind, genuine, and very, very talented. He also has a fantastic career, with best-selling magic DVDs and books, and sold out shows at Caesar’s Palace.

So why does he want to throw it all away by binding himself in feet of 75lbs chains and shackles, jumping into the pool (which is salt water by the way – ouchie on the eyes), and submerging himself for almost 3 minutes as he tries to escape?

Because he is a crazy, wonderful magician.
His record of holding his breath under water is 3 minutes, 30 seconds. He also wears all black, including black, Levi jeans. Now that is magic in itself – wearing sopping wet black jeans. Ew. You can see him in the right-hand corner, the Crazy Man in Black, with chains all around his arms, neck and legs, and his feet bound together.

Charles was filming some of his underwater escape a couple days ago and I was "lucky" enough to help him with it. I had to help tie up the guy, and, albeit I have the arms of a small boy who hasn't eaten in a week, those chains are dang, dang heavy. And they are tight around his neck. It is sort of the physical manifestation of anxiety - bound and drowning. I didn't think about it too much.

Well, Charles lived this time. Here he is basking in the love of the poolside crowd. This time he escaped just over 2 minutes, 40 seconds. So he is still part of Boat Family. At least until next Friday when he does it all over again.

Temporarily Abandoned at Sea (again)

2007-03-20T22:29:00.000-07:00

Look at these two! Aren't they cute? Shouldn't they be cruising around together and performing?
Well, they aren't.
Steve's gone.
And it is definitely NOT what you think.

So, remember when Steve didn't get the last pilot he auditioned for last week, during his weekly "I-Leave-The-Ship-and-Try-to- Get-Famous" jaunt? Well, while he was in LA, his manager arranged for him to audition for a couple of other things. And the casting director for a different ABC pilot (who just so happens to be the casting director from a little show called "Friends") loved his audition.

So, on Sunday, he will be flying back to LA to network test for another pilot. Again.
The pilot? A sit-com based on the GEICO cavemen from the commercials. Yes, this guy:
The cavemen will try to make it in the real world as they all have normal jobs at IKEA.
This experience could not get any weirder. Am I right?
I now have really learned the lesson that worrying about the future is absolutely futile because what you fear will happen (ship will sink, the shows will suck, Steve and I will get in a terrible fight) will be nothing like what actually happens (your boyfriend leaves to try and be a TV caveman).
Break legs, Stevie!

Thursday, March 15th

2007-03-20T21:53:00.000-07:00

We're doing it! Here is a lovely picture of Jennine and I as we celebrate our first FULL cast show on the Norwegian Jewel. We do two scripted, Second City reviews during the week, and then two improv sets on the weekends. The shows are so much more fun that I could have expected. This cast is very laid-back, but hard working, and I adore them. We really have a great time together.
These shows were no exception, as we rocked the house (some people stood! Twenty-four hour buffet cruise people stood!) and left feeling great. Some of our sketches are straight from the Second City archives, while others were written to poke fun at cruise life (i.e. showing what goes on behind the elusive "Crew Only" doors - it is crew members rowing! It kills every time). The audiences are gracious and supportive, even this unbelievably bombed-out-of-their-skulls crowd (read: Spring Break).

You may be noticing we are wearing McDonald's drive-thru/Madonna concert-style headset microphones. Oh, heck yes we do. These shows feel more like rock concerts that sketch shows because, well, it's a cruise. There is a lot of smoke and colors and shiny things - we even enter on a rotating stage. Because God forbid any passenger not be over-stimulated, even just for a moment.

Steve is the only one who has a black headset. That's what you get for being so talented and being flown out to LA. So there.

Is Something Different About You?

2007-03-20T20:09:00.000-07:00

This cruise is really bringing out my Italian heritage.

And Steve’s wacky German dictator heritage.

Tuesday, March 13th

2007-03-20T19:00:00.000-07:00

Our first time in San Juan – well, our first time with the ability to get off the boat and explore. San Juan is pretty great – San Francisco-steep hills, narrow streets lined with shops and filled with history, forts so weather-beaten one can only imagine the battles they saw and the souls they protected.

Naturally, we spent the entire day in a café that provided us with free wireless Internet.

I know, I know – blasphemers! Techno-dependent heathens! But when computer time on the ship costs an obscene amount (cherish those emails, friends) and we have so many people we love and want to keep in touch with, a little café called Café Berlin, right by a statue of Ponce de Leon, is a beacon in a sea of overpriced bandwidth.

And the hummus was fantastic.

So, anyway, here’s what I have seen of San Juan thus far – Steve looking intently at his computer. Muy guapo, si?

Hey, we’ll be back in a week.

Sunday, March 11th

2007-03-20T11:45:00.000-07:00

Where is Steve?
Miami. South Beach.

Okay, so he didn't get the pilot. But, that means he's back. And look how L.A. he is! Open shirt, bored look, too good for anyone attitude. And, everyone loved him. Bruce McCullouch even wants to make sure that if the pilot gets picked up a part will be written for Steve. He even made the president of ABC burst out laughing. So, it was a fantastic experience and I know it will lead to good things.

The day was great. We had lunch at News Cafe on South Beach to celebrate Steve's return and to send off Matt, Beth, and Chris. Steve and I were so happy to see each other - Matt snapped this picture of us when we first got to see each other. Aren't we small and cute?

It was great to have a last lunch with everyone. I know Beth looks upset in this picture, but she really isn't. I think she is just sad she has to leave us fun people. Afterwards shopping was to be done, and overpriced, Miami coffee was to be consumed. Steve and I were enjoying a coffee in a restaurant when we saw a Sonic commercial with my good pals TJ and Peter! It was a nice little postcard from home.

Welcome back, Steve.

Saturday, March 10th

2007-03-20T11:10:00.000-07:00

Drum roll…we got off the boat today!! No more recycled ship air and seizure-inducing colored carpet! Today we took a break from the weirdness of the week and joined the vacationers on Norwegian’s own private island, Great Stirrup Cay, in the Bahamas. Here is a shot of the boat from the island. As you can see, we weren’t that far away. The island itself is only about 2 miles wide, but it is filled with barbeques, steel drum music, volleyball, hammocks, and the occasional Pina Colada.

The highlight of the day was Jennine, Cody and I pilfering these huge rafts called Party Floats. Well, they weren’t so much pilfered as the guy who rented them “looked the other way.” The ocean by the cay is so clear and calm that we were all able to link up rafts and make one huge party float! And, our musical director, Dave Keaton, graciously played navigator and tugged us around the water. It was lazy and giggly and sunny and just what we needed. As we left the island (Cody looking very cool – what you can’t see is the souvenir margarita glass in his hand) we were all chatty and recharged. Sometimes playing around a beach like kids with your friends on huge rafts is exactly what you need.

Wednesday, March 7th

2007-03-20T10:54:00.000-07:00

Today, after much Steve-less rehearsing, it was time to celebrate our director’s birthday. Matt Craig turned the big 3-4, and we did it up right. Our producer, Beth Kligerman, got us reservations at Cagney’s, the steakhouse on the Jewel.
Of course the cast was there, as well as some friends of Matt’s and ours. Matt had done the Mediterranean cruise on the Jewel last year, and because he is a very lovable man it seemed like everywhere we went on the ship everyone from stewards to magicians were very happy to see their old friend. Edge and Charles Bach, two of the magicians on the ship, and Chris, Charles’ best friend who recently performed magic for the Queen of England, joined us as well. Edge had gone to Antigua earlier that day to buy party hats (which I saved for my ship birthday – June 30th, FYI) and Matt ended up with two cakes. Jennine had gotten one earlier and the dinner package Beth generously treated us all to included a cake. Us fatties didn’t let it go to waste, however, and cocktails (a virgin smoothie for Matt, of course), steaks (grilled tuna for me, of course), and cake (for everyone, of course) were consumed happily.

There is something so beautiful about watching someone have a fantastic time on his or her birthday – especially when he or she is far from home. It looked like out “Boat Family” had done just fine for Matt, as you could tell he was genuinely having a great time. While it may not have been the roster he thought would be surrounding him on his big 34th, it did have a bit of a kid’s party feel, like we were all a family and Beth let some of our other friends play that night, too.

As for the empty seat across from me at dinner, well…we all who should have been sitting there.

Tuesday, March 6th

2007-03-13T12:11:00.000-07:00

Look at these two. Shouldn't they be cruising together?
Well, they aren't.
Steve is gone.
Our shipmate Dave wrote a pretty great account of the whole deal, so I'm just going to post it right here: "Halfway through Tuesday, our second full-cast rehearsal (the other three having put in a few hours a day for four days in Chicago), Steve gets a call from his agent, telling him he’s to be flown to LA to test for a pilot written by Bruce McCullough of The Kids in the Hall, and starring Jerry O’Connell. Great news.
He’s to fly out that day if possible, or Wednesday if not.
Bad news.
We open Thursday. We’re in Puerto Rico. It’s too late to replace Steve, and even if he does get the part, he’d be back in three weeks because his partner is already on board.
Beth Kligerman, our producer, makes the call to let Steve go, which none of us begrudge…it’s a tremendous opportunity, and in the past, Second City burned many a bridge with their performers when they refused to let them take a leave for a golden chance like this. Steve’s success would reflect well on Second City.

Rehearsal is canceled, and Beth and our director Matt Craig huddle up to make some decisions. Steve prepares to pack and tries to get out of San Juan before 6 p.m.
More drama, as he can’t get confirmation from the network (don’t quote me, but I think it’s NBC) that they’ll pay for his flight. Katie Rich is, at this point, the most conflicted person in the world: her boyfriend is about to get a great shot at a steady gig on television…but she’s stuck on a ship with people she barely knows and a show that is nowhere near ready for its opening night in 48 hours.

So, with everything up in the air, we gather for a much-needed beverage in the Crystal Atrium on Deck 7 to discuss our options…assuming Steve even gets to leave. Do we:
a) Have Matt himself step into Steve’s roles? He knows them well, has seen them all played (and wrote a couple when he was in Chicago’s mainstage), and is one hell of a performer.
b) Move down to a 4-person cast until Steve comes back, reassigning the guys roles to Cody and myself, with gender-neutral roles up to anyone not already in the scenes requiring it.
Much discussion ensues, but we opt for the four-person cast: if Steve books the pilot, we won’t have him for up to a month, and Matt can’t stay beyond this week. Besides…it’s probably better to have the director look at lighting and pacing from OUTSIDE the scenes.

Parts are reassigned, and we then separate to study our new lines, and think about blocking. Steve goes to re-pack and spend time with Katie. Matt, who doesn’t drink, seriously contemplates ditching sobriety for an epic bender."

So, yeah. I'm alone, but for the best reason possible. And no one deserves it more than Steve, even if he has to get it the hard way.

Soon, these two will be back together. For now, I'm just ordering too much room service. Maybe I'm eating my feelings. Who cares? Break legs, Stevie!

Monday, March 5th

2007-03-13T11:28:00.000-07:00

How do you get to perform in the Stardust Theater on the Norwegian Jewel? Practice, practice, practice. Here are some shots of the place where we do our show - it seats about 1,200 people (the boat can hold 2,400) and is pretty gaudy - like everything on a cruise. There is a rotating part of the stage, which we use, and smoke machines, rock concert-style lights, and a huge front curtain with a peacock on it that is so glittery and obnoxious it looks like Cher's wardrobe threw up on it. We are living the dream! This week will be the most work we do in our entire stint on the cruise. I know, 5-hour daily rehearsals. Boo hoo. That's me playing on the set for one of the dance shows. We're doing it!!

Contact Us!

2007-03-12T11:07:00.001-07:00

Hi!

So much has happened in the last few days - I am updating pictures to post, but the ship's wireless internet seems to be run by fish out of a cave under the sea. It's real slow.

But, we miss you all! We can chat on the phone sometimes (Sundays are the best) so call Steve then. Email is great. If you'd like to send us letters, address them to:
Katie Rich (or Steve Waltien)
Crew Staff
Guest Entertainer/Second City
M/S Norwegian Jewel
P.O. Box 026969
Miami, FL 33102
USA

Packages (wheeeee!):
Katie Rich (or Steve)
Crew Staff
Guest Entertainer/Second City
7665 Corporate Center Drive
Miami, FL 33126
USA

Please note we will only be here until April 22, and stuff takes about two weeks to deliver.

Anyone who emails me their address gets a postcard! Flashroxy@Yahoo.com.

Hope all is well - much more tomorrow.

Love,
Katie and Steve

Sunday, March 4th

2007-03-11T13:12:00.000-07:00

Here are some people you should meet, as they are my family for the next few months. Dave and Jennine are a married couple from Toronto. This is their second stint on the Norwegian Jewel, as they have been here for the four months prior to our arrival. They are full of life and energy and could not have been more welcoming to our sleep-deprived, disoriented selves when we arrived in Miami. This is Dave Keaton, our musical director, who is calm and cool and breaks out with the best songs. He is based in L.A. Obviously, the gentleman in the front of this shot is Steve, who is pretty okay, I guess.

This is Cody (dressed sharp) and Matt (dressed in a towel). Cody is from New Mexico, our team captain, and is probably one of the best guys I’ve ever met – so kind and funny. Matt is a Chicago Mainstage Alumni who is our director. He will only be with us for a week, and we will miss him a big ton, because he is a giant man with a giant heart who has really put this thing together.

So, here we are. Sailing away from Miami, our routines, our cell phones, our grocery shopping, our day jobs, our apartments, our pets, our winter coats, our land-life, and moving onto bluer pastures.

I suck.

2007-03-05T20:18:00.000-08:00

Okay, I can't figure out how to do pictures correctly. Email me if you know how to make them not the size of the ship. Sorry they are so huge.

Even without pictures, I can tell you that Steve and I are doing great and love it. Here, Steve, do you want to say something?

Steve:
Sure. It was rainy today and I slipped on the deck and rolled my ankle. I have until Thursday (first show) to recover. The hot-tub was nice. Tomorrow we'll be in San Juan but we won't see much of it because we'll be in rehearsal.
A little six-year old girl came up to me at the buffet tonight, looked at me for a moment, studying, and then said, "You're a kid, right?" Yes. Yes I am.

Thanks, Steve! Steve's ankle will be fine, so if you are reading this Mrs. Waltien, don't worry.

We are rehearsing a few hours a day, and I have to say the ship moves a lot more than I expected. Not that I'm puking or anything, but being on that stage while there are some solid winds is pretty ridiculous. However, can I really complain? I work 5 hours a week doing comedy around the world. I don't care if I fall of the stage and bust up my ankle. Oops. Too soon, Steve?

Miss and Love you all.

Wendesday, February 28, 2007

2007-03-05T19:45:00.000-08:00

Tonight was my last show with my improv team, Carl and the Passions. It was fantastic. Our suggestion was "teardrop" which is very fitting for my last night with my crew. The show was a great group effort, and it made me so sad to leave them but also reminded me what will be waiting for me when I get back.

After the show, we went for drinks at Blarney Stone, the unofficial Carl and the Passions hang out. Steve was there of course, as was John, my friend from NYC, who plays on our team when he is not being fantastic in NYC. Thanks to the Passions for flying him in as a goodbye present. Or, at least lying to me and saying that you flew him because I was leaving.