“Chance Encounters
 of the
Close Kind”

© 2010 by Anel Viz. All rights reserved.

 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

 

 9. Cruise

The ship was due to sail at five-thirty, and passengers required to board at least three hours in advance, but they had not said when boarding would start, and Teddy had flown down to Miami the afternoon before, hoping they’d allow him to spend the night in his cabin.  Not so.  He couldn’t board until next morning.

“At what time?”

“You know, morning – eight, nine.  Come down to the dock tomorrow.  A hostess will be there to greet you.  She’ll tell you when to board.  You can leave your bags with us now if you want.”

But he hadn’t packed an overnight bag of toiletries and a change of clothes.  They gave him a handful of brochures detailing the various on-board amenities and places of interest in their ports of call, and a list of recommended overpriced hotels that gave them a hefty kickback for steering customers their way.

He found a cheap motel walking distance from the pier.  He threw himself on the bed and idly leafed through the brochures.  The company evidently specialized in themed cruises, but the brochures didn’t mention gays.  Caribbean cruises featured “island-style meals”.  Meaning?  Rum drinks with fruity frappés and little umbrellas stuck in them?  Or was that Hawaiian?  Fish broiled with citrus and pineapple?  Also Hawaiian.  Fried plantain, most certainly, and conch.  If he’d be eating that for two weeks he’d better look for a meat and potatoes place tonight.

The motel clerk directed him to a restaurant street about ten blocks away.  He said the neighborhood he said, was safe and well lit.  Not to worry about walking back alone at night.

He found all sorts of restaurants lined up one after the other – Dominican, Cuban, Creole, Jamaican (in other words, “island-style meals”), with a bagel bakery thrown in for good measure.  Le Vieux Moulin – must be a French place.  But when he got to the end of the block the menu in the window advertised cuisine antillaise.  He looked around the corner.

Perfect!  A British pub – fish and chips, London broil, steak and kidney pie, pot roast.  Great Britain may be an island, but you can’t get further away from island-style cooking.

When he got closer he saw that “British Pub” was just their neon description.  The actual name of the restaurant was painted on the window in red and white imitation gothic lettering – Crewe’s.  A suggestive name for a restaurant.

Heavy, dark wood furniture, little bottles of malt vinegar on the tables, Union Jack, footy posters and photos of the Queen on the walls.  The place was mobbed; he’d have to wait forty-five minutes for a table for one.  He could wait in the bar and have a pint or two.  They’d call him when his table was ready.

He inquired about the waiting time after half an hour.  About another hour, but if he’d share a high table with another single gentleman the hostess could seat them in ten minutes.

What other single gentleman?

Greg.  Tall, somewhat stocky, brown curly hair, regular features, looked to be in his mid twenties.  Flat, Midwestern accent; first time in Miami.  Down for a cruise.

“Same here.  Where will you be cruising?”  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, it struck him as a smutty way of putting it.

“The Caribbean.  And cruising is exactly what I’ll be doing,” he smirked.  “All singles and swinging couples.  Royal Caribbean.  You?”

The smirk made him want to lay the guy back on his ass.  “Same line, but their gay cruise.  A birthday present from the family.  I came out to them a few months ago.”  He sat back to savor his reaction.

“Me too.”

“You’re on the gay cruise?”  Maybe he’d said swingers’ to be cautious.  One doesn’t go blurting out he’s a faggot to an utter stranger in a crowded restaurant.

“Lord, no.  I meant birthday present.  I’m sorry I didn’t come out too.  On second thought, they’d just have booked me for the swinging singles to cure me.  They got me this so I’d meet a nice girl.  Would you believe?  A nice girl on a swingers’ cruise, the idiots!”

“Straight people can be pretty clueless.  It sounds like something my sister Marie would’ve done while I was still in the closet.  Say, would you like to switch bookings with me?  I don’t particularly relish going.”

“But you are gay?”

“Very definitely.  It’s just that I’m alone and I’m not much into ten full days of anonymous sex and orgies.  Those nice single girls won’t tempt me.”

“Now wouldn’t that be a welcome change of pace!  Not much action for me in small-town Missouri.  And what a gas to come out by showing them pictures from my trip!  But they won’t allow the switch.  My cruise has a waiting list a mile long, and yours must too.”

“It can’t hurt to ask.  Maybe if we say there’s been a misunderstanding about our sexual orientation and we both ended up on the wrong cruise.  They like to keep their customers happy, don’t they?”

“What would be best is if we could go together on yours.”

Orgies, anonymous sex.  Teddy wrinkled his nose.  Then another idea struck him, and he broke into a broad smile.

“Or we could cancel, get our partial refunds, and use the money to split a motel for ten days here in Miami.”

“Or Key West.”

 

Posted: 02/12/10