One particular cabin, I was told, doubled as a pop-up brothel where you could either “dock your boat” or “get your anchor tossed,” depending on your proclivity.I was told repeatedly that it was common to be “straight on shore, gay on the high seas.” * * * s anticipated, I stumbled through my first family show, the kids frolicking in the aisles.
” Normally, I would have immediately responded with, “Don’t make me go back to your trailer and kick over that meth lab made of empty Cool Whip containers and failed dreams, you toothless sister-fucker.” Instead I clammed up, as that could have been considered an “inappropriate passenger interaction.” I did not want the helicopter.
As the trip continued, I decided to mine the new world around me for material. The ship was absolutely mammoth – it had to be to accommodate the almost-4,000, many borderline-obese passengers, scooters whizzing by each other like pickup trucks – who consumed everything in their paths, edible and alcoholic.
If Saul and Esther liked you, then, like a tuna sandwich with low-sodium mayo, you would be considered palatable fare for the passengers. Port’s left.” I scribbled it all down on my nautical crash-course cheat sheet. The beauty of comedy is that there are essentially no rules besides showing up, being funny, doing your time, and not getting the club staff pregnant.
The crowd was ornery, and each act struggled through their shouting of phrases like “speak up! JR led me to my cabin, which was down a narrow hallway behind a bank of elevators. But on Circus Cruises there were rules about what performers could wear (pressed dress-casual with additional options for “elegant night”), where performers could eat (the crew’s mess hall), and how to appropriately interact with passengers (no sleeping around – one of the few I didn’t have to adjust to).
A few days into the trip, JR informed me of the unfortunate fate of a certain Yiddish-singing piano player.