Jessie's Journal (8/2/26) (Patreon)

Dear Journal:

I’m back! 

Wow!  Where to begin?   The trip was kind of a whirlwind, so I’m sure I’ll miss some things and get a few details out of order, but I’ll try to hit all the high points.  I jotted down notes on my phone whenever I could, and I took LOTS of pictures, so hopefully that will help me keep things straight.

Big picture stuff first.  I had a great time!  The ship was beautiful; the Mexican Riviera was beautiful; and the weather was beautiful.  It was HOT (more on that a little later), but there were no storms and the sea was mostly smooth…which I learned was rare for this time of year.  I had been curious about the expense of a two-week luxury cruise.  We’re not rich, and Dad is pretty frugal.  (Mom calls him “tight,” especially when she’s angry.)  But apparently going off-season saves a ton of money. 

He also skimped on the cabins.  We were WAY below deck, on the floor above the crew galley, just 5-6 feet above the waterline.  Sis and I shared a windowless interior cabin, while Mom and Dad’s exterior cabin only had a small portal.  I could tell Mom was underwhelmed.  “Who cares,” Dad said in response to one of Mom’s looks.  “We’re only going to be in the room to sleep and shower anyway.”

That was fine with me.  Being trapped below deck with my sister in a confined space sounded like a recipe for disaster.  

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Before we even boarded the boat, we first flew to LA.  Sissy wanted to tour Hollywood while we were there (at one point, she fancied becoming an actress or a model, but that chance is getting fatter, along with the rest of her), but our flight was late, and we barely made it to the port in time to catch the ship.  It didn’t help that the steward studied our passports like we were suspected terrorists.  I should qualify that.  He pretty much waved Mom and Dad through.  Sissy and I were the hold-up. 

Sissy got her passport a couple years ago, when there was a chance her soccer team might travel abroad for a tournament.  That never happened, and now she was two years older and at least 25 pounds heavier.  Mine was rushed through the process a couple of months ago, but there was still a sizable difference between the dour me in the document and the smiling me on the dock.  For a brief second, I hoped the agent might think we’d mistakenly swapped each other’s passports, but there was still way too much difference between us for that to happen.

Fortunately, he eventually waved us aboard…and the gap between sissy and me quickly began to close! 

--Jessie