Carnival Cruise Shit

I see that the Carnival Splendor has made it back to port. In case you live in a blackened, windowless interior ocean liner cabin, the Splendor is the cruise ship that lost power one day after setting sail from Long Beach due to a fire in the engine room, and was drifting, helpless, 40 miles off the coast of Mexico. It was coaxed back to San Diego by tugboats, arriving today, after “three nightmarish days at sea”. The ship lost all power. There was no hot water, no hot food, no lights, no propulsion, and the toilets wouldn’t flush. Since what date toilets require power to flush is unknown to me, as I have never plugged in a toilet in my life, although one of my unrealized million dollar ideas is a heated toilet seat for those frigid mornings. At sea, you have to figure that all the toilets in the cabins drain down, and the law of gravity would assure that your giant cruise ship buffet shit would make it to the bottom of the boat with a mere flip of the flusher. Come to think of it, I guess they have to pump the water back up to fill the tank, and that requires power, so I suppose that after the engine room fire, the race was on to see if you or your hot date could grind up the biggest, gnarliest dump first and get it down to sea level with the last available flush. That’s love, baby. In any event, the toilets didn’t work.

The 4,500 people on the ship, and the brilliant American news media, have continually described the conditions on this powerless, flushless, stranded ship as “nightmarish”. There was no way to prepare food, so US Navy helicopters flew in, get this, Spam, Pop-tarts, and canned crab meat. What culinary school dropout came up with this gourmet solution? Seriously? Of all the tasty comestibles that you could put on a naval cargo helicopter for a 30 minute journey out to sea, are these the absolute best and most nutritionally complete foods that the iron chefs of sea rescue could collectively conjure? What the fuck was everyone on board supposed to do, make open faced Spam-n-crab Pop-tarts? “Would you like frosted or unfrosted, sir?”

That’s gross, and stupid, but let me tell you something – it’s not a nightmare. You know what was a nightmare? Being on the fucking Titanic was a nightmare. 1,500 people drowned in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic that night. They DIED. YOU had to eat Spam-n-crab. Well, you didn’t have to, but you could have if you wanted to. Still think you were living in a nightmare, you pansy ass drama queens? One moronic passenger was even quoted as saying, “You think about the Titanic … but we were all right.” No shit, Sherlock. I think about a lot of things, some of which are pretty mindless and nonsensical, but most of it gets tweaked and edited by the intelligence filter I possess. What’s that thing called again? Oh yeah. My fucking BRAIN.

More quotes from the victims of this “nightmare” at sea? “We have not had a hot cup of coffee in four days. This was my first cruise and it was no luxury, no fun.” Really, bitch? Guess what. Shit got fucked up. No luxury? No fun? I bet you have a great story to tell for the rest of your miserable life. Make the most of it. I also bet that in addition to getting your money back for this little misadventure, the next fun, luxurious cruise you go on will be FREE. This will most likely be small compensation compared to the rewards to be reaped when you invariably sue the cruise line, and the staff, and your fellow shipmates. To what do you think a victim of the horrific punishment of no hot coffee for four days is legally entitled? $1 million? $2 million? The old broad that spilled McDonald’s coffee in her lap back in ’92 could probably give a solid litigation recommendation, and adjust for inflation, to boot.

“It was supposed to be this beautiful cruise and it turned into a nightmare. Nothing like it was advertised in the brochure.” Oh, this scenario wasn’t advertised in the brochure? Did they neglect to mention this minor detail? Maybe that’s because it WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN, FUCKFACE. And again with the nightmare. Let me ask you this: when airplanes full of people plummet to the ground at terminal velocity, explode, and disintegrate in a fiery ball of twisted metal, jet fuel, and molten flesh, do the airlines go ahead and advertise that possibility? They don’t. Why? Because THAT IS A NIGHTMARE, and the airlines are trying like hell to avoid it. They usually do a pretty good job. I bet business would suffer if every possible fucked up scenario was advertised in the brochure for every fun little thing you’ve done during the course of your worthless existence. I’m sure that you will press to mandate this requirement shortly, though. Personally, if given the choice between 3 days on a powerless cruise ship and sheer terror resulting in fiery death, I would choose the former. But hey, that’s just me. I’m wacky like that.

“If you could see the things they put on sandwiches, seriously, this could be the only cruise ever where people lost weight instead of gaining weight.” Hey lunchbox – I bet your fat ass could do to lose a few. And when the staff, who I’m damn sure tried their hardest to keep the passengers as happy as they possibly could, is given tools such as Spam, Pop-tarts, and canned crab meat with which to work, they can hardly be held accountable for less than delicious results.

“It’s been like a nightmare. There’s been no food, no power, no electricity, no flushing toilets. I spent the night tossing and turning in my cabin in the dark.” Allow me to pose a question. What the hell do you usually do in your cabin at night? Are the lights on? Are you throwing a rave, gagging back huge rat tails of Colombian marching powder? No? You’re SLEEPING, you fucktard. And I swear to God, I’ll pistol whip the next douchebag that says “nightmare”.

“A fire in the engine room knocked out power Monday morning, leaving passengers with no air conditioning, no hot food, no hot water, no casino. The swimming pool was off-limits because there was no way to pump chlorine.” No casino? No swimming pool? You mean I can’t gamble? I can’t swim? AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! NIGHTMARE!!!

“It was gross when the toilets weren’t working. What can you do? There were a lot of people getting smashed off warm beer.” Finally, a man after my own heart. That’s EXACTLY what you do, buddy. You know that the thousands of gallons of booze on that boat were flowing like seawater through a bilge pump in an effort to keep the cruisers placated. After the power quit, every bit of alcohol on that ship was free, gratis, sin coste. And you know what I would have done? I would have tried to drink it ALL. I would have been the most fucked up mother fucker on that boat. You say you can’t sleep in your darkened cabin, sweetheart? You have apparently not applied a bottle of tequila to the situation. Too dark to see?  Try some 18 year old scotch.  I bet there was a small contingent of partiers on that ship that were having the time of their lives drinking whiskey from the bottle and chasing it with warm beer. I would have been. Lasting friendships were surely made at the bar, and in unlit cabins.

As it turns out, the toilets weren’t functional for only about 13 hours, which I don’t really see as that much of a problem, because when I’m on a boat, and I have to take a piss, if jumping in the water isn’t an option, I piss off the side of the boat. I can envision my new friends and I, bottles in one hand, dicks in the other, the girls bent over with their asses seaward, trying to see who can make it out past the Lido deck without hitting the nice old couple below on their heads. And what if someone just HAD to take a shit during those 13 unflushable hours, not that I see that being a possibility in the absence of hot coffee? Why wasn’t someone smart enough to build a makeshift gang plank off the outermost deck, cut a hole in the end of it, throw a toilet on top, fashion a little toilet paper dispenser, and let the dueces drop like depth charges?  That’s not a nightmare. That, my friends, is a fucking souvenir vacation photo that I would proudly display on my refrigerator.