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From a Princess Cruises (I think) radio ad this morning, a loose paraphrase: “Cancel your flight to your vacation spot and take our boat! No waiting, no cancellations, no fuss! Get to the Caribbean the nicer way!”
So steamship travel is back—excellent—but surely cruise lines have security procedures, too? Oh well, I’m ready for my David Foster Wallace sensory overstimulation anytime. If obsequiousness bugs you (and it does me, too), just remember that after hours the cruise-line staff are debauching it up and making the Dirty Dancing set look like Mouseketeers. If you’re adventurous, you can seek them out and sing bawdy show tunes till dawn. Maybe not on the QE2, though, a solemn experience ostensibly promoted by the preppy (not to say tiny) mummies who appear in the ship’s New Yorker ads; after hours, the crew and passengers alike are safely stowed in their golden caskets. In the alternate QE2 ad strategy, regular folks have secret lives as onboard royalty. Indeed, the nautical romance of the neurotic has been well documented in psychoanalytic literature. That said, the boat looks absolutely fantastic, and I’m packed to sail. Luff up the tender!
Comments
Mmm, any post that supposedly includes a reference to my favorite recent piece of non-fiction prose is sure to brighten my day!
JJB is out from under the last obligations of a representations-of-masculinity paper, which is good, because he was starting to question his innate aggression, his gendered language, and yes, even his primal and indefensible affection for hockey.
Where do I start?
Great news, noble John! I am turning my compromised brain to this question even as we speak.
And Martin—yeah, isn’t “Supposedly” (the essay) a brilliant creation? Unless you mean the QE2 ads, of course, which are brilliantly perverse.
harharharharharhar man…….bleh…you make me laugh….hahahahahaha