Long Legs and Tall Tales: A Showgirl's Wacky, Sexy Journey to the Playboy Mansion and the Radio City Rockettes (42 page)

That saucy scenario is exactly what happened to lucky me. While I was busy rehearsing the new guys and swearing up a storm, Ron—a handsome Arnold Schwarzenegger look-alike imported from London —joined the spa team as the masseur. I didn’t set eyes on him for weeks, as I was entrenched in rehearsals. Candy’s boyfriend Harvey (who was not only the spa manager and Ron’s boss but the unofficial matchmaker as well) kept bugging me to meet him. I finally gave in just to get him off my back. Turned out Harvey was a pretty good matchmaker, because Ron and I hit it off from the start. Like with Davy Jones, I couldn’t resist that endearing British accent. “The Love Boat” theme song played in my head: “Set a course for adventure, your mind on a new romance…”

Having a boyfriend did wonders to lift my spirits, improve my attitude, and provide new forms of entertainment for dull sea days. (Use your imagination.) The risk of on-board dating was that if you eventually discovered yourselves to be incompatible, had a bad break up, and could no longer stand the sight of each other, you would have a hard time avoiding each other. You were essentially living in the same house, albeit a floating mansion, for months on end. Yet I was willing to take the risk and pay the consequences. Ship life didn’t permit your typical dating scenario, but our six ports provided plenty of recreational options that I loved exploring with my new chap.

The Canadian coastal city of Vancouver was our home port where we’d drop off passengers and pick up a new group every two weeks. Ron and I strolled through charming, historic Gastown (Vancouver’s original downtown) and ate and shopped in the scattered stores that were open early on a Sunday. About a mile away, Stanley Park, with its 1,001 acres of west coast rainforest mostly surrounded by the Pacific Ocean, offered scenic water and mountain views and a perfect place for us to stretch our legs. The onsite Vancouver Aquarium was a guaranteed way to see killer whales, beluga whales, sea otters, and sea lions. We paid the fee and went in even though we spotted many of these amazing creatures out of captivity for free when cruising with the ship.

From Vancouver, the
Noordam
would sail north along the “Inside Passage,” a picturesque, maze-like water path around and between the coastal islands and the mainland. This protected route allowed us to bypass rough weather in the open seas. When it wasn’t too windy, I’d go outside on the Upper Promenade to enjoy the beautiful view of the tree-covered islands. Sometimes the clouds would stick in the mountain trees like cotton. The water was smooth, and the ride was peaceful.

Our first stop was Ketchikan, Alaska’s southeasternmost city. Its most popular tourist attraction was the Creek Street boardwalk—a group of quaint homes, stores, and restaurants built up on pilings overlooking Ketchikan Creek. In the early 1900s, it was infamous for its bootlegging and brothels including the historic Madam Dolly’s house (which still stands but as a museum only). It took a hardy woman to survive the Alaskan wilderness and a hardier one still to service its rugged men for a living. I frequented Creek Street not for the illicit Canadian whiskey as they did in days gone by, but to buy the Swedish fish (chewy, red, cherry-flavored gummies shaped like tiny fish) that were sold at the candy store. That was as close as I got to fishing, but a real angler could have his heyday in Ketchikan, known as “Salmon Capital of the World,” where “salmon and fishermen go to spawn.” Creek Street was the perfect spot to witness schools of salmon swimming upstream.

Ketchikan also boasted a wonderful independent bookstore and a magnificent bead shop for my handmade jewelry projects. Some days I caught up on my errands at Ketchikan’s drug store, photo shop, post office, and money machine. When in an educational touristy mood, I’d walk to the Salmon Hatchery or the Totem Pole Heritage Center, which housed 100-year-old totem poles from within a forty-mile radius of Ketchikan. I was especially intrigued by those with “potlatch” rings, which indicated the number of potlatches (huge, prestigious parties that took years of planning) a family had given.

I loved the opportunity to take a break from ship fare, and Ketchikan offered several palate-pleasing restaurants. The 5 Star Café served fresh, strong coffee and excellent brown rice with black beans on top for when I was in a vegetarian mood. Ketchikan Café had minimal décor but it was the place to go for hefty, home-cooked breakfasts served quickly, and it provided a beautiful view overlooking the water. Annabella’s had an old wooden bar with happening music; their creamy seafood chowder and soft, freshly baked herb bread kept me coming back for more.

By far the best activity in Alaska was hiking! Ron and I discovered Deer Mountain and decided to take the climb. After loading up the backpack with important supplies (chocolate bars, chocolate milk, and bananas), we tromped up the trail. The beautiful, log and rock and mud path through the lush forest was wet and woodsy and fun and easy (even for a novice like myself). The air smelled so fresh with all the trees and vegetation releasing loads of oxygen. It took us 90 minutes to get up the mountain and 50 minutes to get down. We got a great view of town, our ship, and the surrounding islands from a clearing about halfway up and then again at the top. Near the top, the trees spread out and all was still and spring green. We ate our snacks while the mosquitoes ate us. The weather was in the 70s. Best weather we’d had. I hadn’t hiked much before, but I was hooked.

Our second port was Juneau, Alaska’s capital city. It was home to some excellent little shops including a great health food store called Rainbow Foods. Instead of always being at the mercy of the ship’s kitchen and the specified dining times, I preferred having my own groceries to keep in my room, so I’d stock up on dried mango, chips and salsa, bean dip, banana muffins, sesame-honey sticks, trail mix, organic chocolate bars, whole wheat apricot bars, organic popcorn, soy milk, and power bars for our hikes. On the rare occasion when we really wanted to splurge on an exquisite gourmet dinner, Ron and I would eat at The Summit where they served melt-in-your-mouth halibut medallions in a lime cream sauce. Heritage Coffee shop was my regular stop for a cup of Joe and was right below the enchanting enamel and metal pin shop of artist William Spears. He had hundreds of whimsical, colorful pins of animals, birds, fish, airplanes, and vegetables. I bought a large-mouth bass fish pin.

One of my favorite hangouts with the cast and friends was the Red Dog Saloon. This popular bar had sawdust floors and walls adorned with stuffed bears, moose heads, and mountain goats plus life preservers and flags from different ships. Any leftover spare inch of available wall space was plastered with business cards. Rico, a local singer/keyboard player, kept the place lively singing drunken sailor songs. The Red Dog served huge glasses of Alaskan Amber beer and pucker-your-lips “lemon drops” (a shot of vodka, lemon juice, and sugar that you drank immediately after sucking on a sour lemon wedge). When Monty, the fifty-year-old motorcycle-loving banjo player, was headlining on the ship, he two-stepped me around the circumference of the room!

Somehow managing to pull ourselves away from the cheerful atmosphere of the Red Dog, Candy and Harvey and I hiked the unchallenging but gorgeous Perseverance Trail. The trail was well maintained and took us through forests, past waterfalls and snow-capped mountains, over little rivers, and beside fields of purple, pink, white, and yellow wildflowers. We even passed by old mine ruins and scattered pieces of rusted mining remnants. My calves were aching the next day.

The experience of a lifetime, however, was our helicopter ride to the twelve-mile-long Mendenhall glacier, situated about twelve miles from downtown. It had rained all day in Juneau, and I was certain the trip would be cancelled, but about an hour before we were supposed to go, the sun came out. Eighteen of us (our entire cast plus other young cruise staffers) got dressed in black tie formal wear (not the typical or most appropriate glacier garb) and started by having drinks at the Officer’s Bar. I debuted my floor-length, black, stretch-knit Jessica Rabbit-like Japanese designer dress with a thigh-high slit that I bought in L.A. for $300. Ron borrowed tuxedo pieces from various men on board and put together a nice ensemble that actually looked like it matched. I had a glass of Chardonnay before heading to the bus that was waiting to take us to the helicopter port. At the port, we had to take off our shoes and put on clunky black moon boots that looked ridiculous with our elegant gowns. Then we boarded three helicopters with six people and a pilot in each. Ron and I rode with Candy, Harvey, Dana, and Dana’s boyfriend Wesley. The whirring of the helicopter blades was so loud, we had to wear headphones and talk into a mic to hear each other. 

The three helicopters lifted off simultaneously. Unlike an airplane take-off, this one was so slow and smooth, it took me a while to realize we were off the ground! We cruised over Juneau, its outlying mountains, and finally the glacier that spilled into town through the mountains like a thick, pale blue, ice cream shake river. It was magnificent. We flew over a mountain following the two helicopters before us to discover the glacier field on the other side. Miles and miles of blue ice stretched before us. Then one, two, three, we all descended and lightly touched down atop the glacier.

All hell broke loose. We popped open champagne and sprayed it over each other. My hands were freezing. We tromped around on the ice, avoiding the deep, deep pockets of bright blue water leading down to the depths of the glacier. All, that is, except for Wesley, who purposefully jumped in a puddle up to his waist. The nut! (I don’t know how he could stand being in soaking wet pants all night.) We took picture after picture. When the girls egged on the guys for a moon shot, they all bent over and bared their buns to mother nature (who was quite frigid that evening). These men had no modesty.

After about an hour of playing on the glacier, we hopped into our respective helicopters for the flight back. Ron and I kissed the whole night. People made fun of us but it was so romantic and such a great experience to share with your sweetheart. On the bus back to town, we had a cup of hot chocolate to warm our fingers. Next, the entire group headed to Café Verona for pizza. Afterwards, we ran back to the boat to change clothes and squeeze in forty-five minutes of dancing at the Penthouse disco before our 11 p.m. curfew. Then it was back to the O.B. for more drinking and socializing. What a night!

In the panhandle west of Juneau was Glacier Bay National Park, an area of spectacular ice floes between the mountains and toward the water’s edge. The ship would cruise the glaciers each week while the passengers would watch expectantly from the deck, hoping for the greatest prize of all: to witness a glacier “calving.” If we were lucky enough to be at the right place at the right time, we’d hear the grumble and roar and see a massive chunk of ice break off with a mighty splash into the water. One extremely rare glacier cruising day was so sunny that I was able to lounge outside in my bikini for a while—an odd pursuit when sailing past snow-capped mountains and fields of ice.

Our third port was Sitka, whose claim to fame was that it was the town where author James Michener stayed during the summers when he researched and wrote his novel Alaska. Sitka boasted a charming little book store called Harbor Books, which had a Bohemian coffee shop in the back where I liked to order soy milk cappuccino or mocha while hiding out and writing or organizing photos from the trip. The young patrons were hippie-ish with long hair, flannel shirts, and Birkenstocks sandals. Some were in town working at the fish or pickle canneries. A guy from Santa Cruz, California, noticed my glacier pics, and we ended up talking for an hour. He had come to Alaska to make money, but the fishing industry was having a bad season, so he ended up at the salmon cannery filtering salmon eggs for caviar to be sent to Japan. He was an artist and had put together a fountain design he wanted to market and produce back in California once he got the necessary financing. The man had also studied Native American shamanism and Chinese medicine and shiatsu for ten years.

Interesting folks were drawn to this most northwestern state, including wonderful artists. I was captivated by the art of Rie Muñoz and bought a book featuring her work plus her poster of two Alaskan Native women dancing in the sky with the moon and stars. Muñoz was a Juneau-based artist whose colorful, expressionist paintings reflected the daily routine of Alaskans and Alaska’s Native people. She had even traveled remote distances in order to observe their way of life. I purchased greeting cards and a T-shirt by Ketchikan-based artist Ray Troll who designed quirky, comical, fish- and sea creature-based scenarios with sayings such as “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle,” or “The Baitful Dead” (a fishy spoof on the Grateful Dead). I also appreciated the distinct style of the red and black Northwest Coast Native American art depicting thunderbirds, orcas, bears, ravens, and eagles. These artists inspired me to do my own painting; I watercolored small pictures of Alaskan scenes I had photographed, like floatplanes docked along the water.

Ron and I visited the Raptor Center where injured eagles and other raptors were rehabilitated and then released back into the wild. It was a moving sight. Afterwards we walked holding hands through Indian Creek trail—a lush, magical rain forest like nothing I had ever seen. I was scared of bears the whole trip, as the trail was covered in berry bushes and took us by the river, a prime eating place for bears, whose favorite meal is fish and berries. We went as far as a clearing where the trees looked charred. Perhaps a forest fire? It was eerie and misty and still and romantic.

Sitka also had a charming, old-fashioned, six-lane bowling alley where you had to keep score yourself on a piece of paper, and cruise ship crews played for only $2 a game including shoes. A group of us went for the youth counselor’s birthday, and I bowled with three of the musicians and the ship’s naturalist (a young woman who educated passengers on Alaskan wildlife and the environment). I was bad at first but redeemed myself by scoring 110 in the last game, my first and only time breaking 100. We decided the winner should always buy the losers milkshakes. (The alley was known for its excellent selection of flavors: chocolate, fudge, peanut butter, strawberry, vanilla, coffee, mocha, blackberry, peach, blueberry, root beer, and butterscotch.) Our music director won, so I enjoyed a decadent peanut butter-fudge shake on his dime.