Ense-Nada

Steve and I took a three-day Carnival cruise from Long Beach to Ensenada, Mexico. It was a nice little break in what has been a bumpy year. Even though we both had colds (Steve's much more persistent than mine), we did relax and enjoy ourselves.

Not that it's been an unpleasant year, mind you; it's just that things have been much different this: First was the trip to London and Paris, then came Steve's new job and now some changes for me at The Hollywood Reporter (which I am not at liberty to divulge just yet). So the idea of the cruise (my birthday present to Steve back in June) was that we would need a breather by September.

It went well enough, although there were a half-dozen groups on the ship celebrating birthdays or weddings, made up almost exclusively of twenty-somethings with a penchant for drinking 24 hours a day. We were constantly escaping what seemed a nonstop fraternity kegger.

The food was good to acceptable and there weren't too many "bubbas" on board (although there is always a few bikers or truckers from Fresno or Bakersfield whose concept of formal wear is a new Hawaiian shirt with black jeans or the clean plaid shirt with the mother-of-pearl snaps, the BIG silver belt buckle and the BIG turquoise bolo tie.

The biggest downer was that, after a day of tchotchke-shopping in Ensenada, my booty (all in a white plastic bag) was purloined from the end of the security conveyor belt on the way back into the ship. I hope the bitch who took it rots in hell, since it would have been easy to return the stuff, if it was a mistake. It was a couple marble cones that matched one I had bought there last year and a couple kitchen magnets. No big whoop, but MY STUFF.

The cruise lines reaction to my report of the theft was thorough though completely passive. Steve and I both agreed that the next cruise will be with another line and to a different locale. Besides, after two cruises in two years, I'm ready for some other form of vacation.