'Berries in the Bahamas: How We spent our Honeymoon

The date of Saturday, February 19, 2005, was the official date that the Thornberries became the Thornberries. It was a humble ceremony, done on a shoestring budget, in order to save our dough for the Honeymoon....on a cruise ship to the Bahamas, baby!

And now is the moment I know you've all been awaiting...the summary of the honeymoon experience, as we romped around in the Carribbean. Read on and enjoy the trip alongside us!

Monday February 21, 2005: Arrival and Establishment

The Usual Plethora of Airport Hassles

This title might more appropriately be labeled, THE NERVE-WRACKING RUN THROUGH SUDDEN DEATH!! But I'm getting ahead of the story.

Jennifer and I arrived at our local airport with plenty of time to spare. Even though we stayed up late the night before, we had plenty of hardtack biscuit left from our reception, which we packed for morning breakfast.

Our food-laden reception table, from which the newly-minted Thornberries harvested the "hardtack biscuit" they'd need to bolster themselves for the [ahem] exertions of the Honeymoon to follow.

The first leg of our trip was to be the most harried, as there was only a 45-minute layover between our arrival in Atlanta and our departure to Orlando. Having been to the Atlanta airport when I traveled to my hypnosis certification training, I knew that once we got there, it would be a huge metroplex for us to traverse.

Well, wouldn't you know it, it was a cloudy, rainy day in Atlanta, so our arrival flight was delayed. Jennifer and I bit our nails in worry all through boarding, take-off and arrival. Our plane touched down in Atlanta with only minutes to spare. And of course, our departure flight was running right on time. The airport tram took off as soon as we reached the doors, and we didn't have time to wait for the next one. So we ended up having to literally run from one end of the airport to the other. I lost track of how many people we elbowed out of our way, as they ambled along bovine-like while we were in danger of missing our flight. To beat all, we kept making wrong turns, because their signs and directions were really vague and stupid. Remember, our ultimate goal was to catch a cruise ship, which meant that missing the flight probably also meant missing the ship.

Naturally, our concourse was at the opposite end of the airport, and we had to ride up three intestinal escalators, where everyone else just stood like cheese logs. Unable to push past them, we watched our time trickle down further and further. Finally, we caught the train; I even parked us strategically at the front of it, to save us time after we got off of it. That didn't work, because when the train stopped, our concourse was at the rear end of the train, putting us at the very back, behind every other member of the ambling herd. Again we took to our heals, trying to clear the throng.

At some point, we just ran out of steam. We figure we trotted the equivalent distance of 2-3 miles and we just didn't have it in us to keep pushing ourselves that hard. So we slowed down and just reconciled ourselves to making other arrangements to get ourselves to Orlando. Walking as fast as our breathless bodies would sustain, we arrived at our concourse, to find it hadn't taken off yet! Glorious day! We managed to board a monstrous 777 jet with a 200-foot wingspan and seven seats across the width of the cabin. However, we hadn't been able to stop at the restrooms, which made navigating the tiny umbrella-closet latrine on board another story unto itself (whose details I will spare).Godsmacked: The Oily, Diarrheic Bus

The journey was cursed, I'm convinced of it.

We arrived in Orlando, after a more juddering plane flight that had me convinced at one point that we were going to go down in a hellish fireball. After grabbing our luggage and then a Rueben sandwich for me and a deli sub for Jennifer ($20!), we followed our AAA directions, toward the cruise line bus transport. After a bit of waiting, we loaded our gear and found a seat on the bus for our 45-minute drive to the Florida coast.

As we figured we were now in the hands of the cruise line, and therefore, under their guarantee we would catch the ship, we settled in for a relaxing drive through very interesting scenery. For example, Florida's landscape seems rife with little standing pools of water. Eventually, we began to see evidence of the ocean and our bus began to make the last long haul up the big hill that would deposit us at our destination. Then it gasped, gagged and died. The driver had to quickly pull over to the side of the road, where the acrid smell of hot engine and smoke fumes started to overwhelm us. Florida is hot and humid, so the bus became unbearable in a short time. Following everyone else's lead, Jennifer and I got off and waited to see what they were going to do about getting us to our ship.

Jennifer tries to make the best of the Florida climate and scenery, while waiting for a replacement bus to the cruise ship.

At the rear of the bus was a fecal-looking smear of oil that had apparently dribbled for miles from the watery bowels of the engine. Only a few hundred feet away, a big green sign rested, with the message: "Cruise Line, 2 miles." It was almost a taunting insult. Worse, in the distance, we could see the ship!! But we just couldn't get to it.

Fortunately, we were close to the ocean, where we could watch some people doing windsurfing. I chose that time to take a few pictures for posterity. But after 45 minutes, it got tiresome. Several buses stopped and seemed to watch us, but none of them picked us up. Finally, the cruise line sent a replacement, which we ended up having to stock on our own with our luggage. Then we got comfortable and prepared to finish our trip. Suddenly, all of the little televisions above the seats came on during some strange movie. The first line we heard was this guy saying, "What the FUCK!?" It was some old comedy police film, akin to Police Academy, with all of the foul language and bathroom humor. The volume was up extremely loud and I could hear other passengers complaining because they had brought their children with them.

The Sovereign of The Seas

At long last, we rolled to the proper terminal, where our bus was dwarfed by the mighty keel of the Sovereign of the Seas, the ship that would be our home for the next four days. We were hot and frustrated, and having already had to unload and reload our own luggage between buses, we weren't very disposed to doling out money to the porters who awaited us. Nonetheless, I gave them what I had left, which was only a $1. We shuffled our paperwork, went through the screening line and boarded.

Wow! It was like walking into an opulent resort, reminiscent of the Beau Rivage, where we stayed in Biloxi, MS. We entered on the carpeted Deck 4, where we were privy to the Centrum, an atrium-like arrangement where we could see up several other decks. Two gold elevators waited to carry passengers, along with several wing-like staircases with varnished banisters and polished, golden enameling. A giant, translucent clock, probably 4-5 feet across marked out the time.

Wow! The Thornberries' first site upon boarding the ship is the Centrum, an atrium-like view of several decks.

We blundered around for a few minutes before taking a smaller set of stairs down to Deck 2, where we were able to settle into our cabin. Which brings us to....Our Ankles Against Our Foreheads

Jennifer and I had to almost lie down and crabwalk into the cabin. To say it was tiny would be like describing the Middle East conflict as "a bit of a tiff;" 122 square feet of squished, sardine living. If we took too deep a breath, the cabin-pressure change made the walls creak. A queen-sized bed, a closet big enough for one suitcase, a desk about 12 inches deep and 24 inches long and a single chair, made up the room. For some reason, every wall was covered with mirrors; it makes you wonder if they just have a bunch of newlyweds...

The Thornberries have to contort themselves into pretzels just to fit into their tiny 122-square-foot cabin.

The bathroom was a trial unto itself. Maxing out at about 6 X 4 feet, you literally had to compress yourself to be in it. Only one person at a time could be in there, so brushing one's teeth, showering or washing hair had to be done in sequence. That made for much frustration on our activity schedule. Jennifer had to engage in contortions that would have made any Hindu yogi proud just to shave her legs.

Fall out For Elbow Inspection!
We barely had time to catch our breaths and eat the remainder of our lunch before the intercom whistled and told us that we would need to don our lifejackets and muster on the Promenade, Deck 7. Apparently, that's a safety regulation that one has to endure before every cruise. Although I groaned when I put that gaudy orange thing on and saw the long line of people clogging the staircase, it really did go pretty fast and was over in about fifteen minutes.

The bed was very comfortable and solid, fortunately. We fell asleep shortly after the safety drill, the trials of our journey finally catching up with us. It was during that nap that the ship powered up and left port. I did find it amazing that such a huge vessel could be underway and we barely felt anything at all. Only when we later found a window in the Centrum, Deck 4, were we able to see the huge wake the ship was generating as it crossed the Atlantic at its cruising speed of 19 knots for destination Coco Cay. You can get a sense of what it was like here:

Burgers, Tequinis and a Buttload Of Crown Royal

We weren't in the mood to dress up formally for the dining area, so our first dinner aboard the Sovereign of the Seas was at a place called Johnny Rockets. It was basically a hamburger joint on Deck 12, one of those places set up to look like something from the 1950s. They billed us $7 cover charge and took our order. The waitress was from Croatia, and she heckled me when Jennifer laid out her boarding pass to cover the bill. In her distinctive accent, she stated, "Ah, lady pay?" But the meal of hot dogs and hamburgers was still delish with our Heineken beer.After the tribulations of the day, Jennifer and I didn't do much that evening, other than go to a bar called Boleros, where we had a couple of Caribbean drinks. One intriguing concoction was a "tequini," essentially a tequila-based martini. I had never known of a tequila smooth enough for sipping. As one might expect, drinks were phenomenally expensive; we spent about $40 on three rounds. To offset our cost, we went to the liquor store, Centrum, Deck 5, and purchased a liter of high quality Crown Royal whiskey. Even with the service charge of $9, it was cheaper than it would be at home. We figure the $30 total that we paid probably saved us $110.

Day #1 ended with full tummies, dulled senses and exhaustion.


NEXT: The Sovereign of the Seas docks at the island of Coco Cay.

Click for Part II