Long Legs and Tall Tales: A Showgirl's Wacky, Sexy Journey to the Playboy Mansion and the Radio City Rockettes (44 page)

Thankfully, I recovered just in time for Dad, Mom, Grandma, and Aunt Jean to join us for a week cruise. I was afraid my injury would sabotage my week with the family, but in the end my knee was fine. The worst problem was that Bob bailed early on his contract for another gig, and we had to rehearse yet another new guy the week my family was there. I was mad about rehearsals and about the fact that our show wouldn’t look as clean without Bob. Plus, I ended up being dance captain again, so I was extra busy.

Nevertheless, my family and I had such fun sightseeing, shopping, and hiking along the glaciers. I loved showing them around the ship and performing for them. Unfortunately, the day after they arrived, summer decided to turn into fall, and the weather turned cold, rainy, and then downright stormy again. It was so stormy that we had to go to a completely different port than planned in order to avoid the worst seas. So, instead of Sitka, we got to see the little gold rush town of Skagway and chug a few beers at the Red Onion Bar to take the chill off. The week went by too quickly, and I was sad to see the family leave. To make matters worse, Ron had to return to London later that same day. After many tears and goodbyes, Ron boarded the train to Anchorage where he would catch his flight home. I was all alone in Alaska wondering if Ron and I would ever see each other again.

The seas went wild once again, and everyone was seasick. The ship was so rocky during the show, I could barely kick without falling over. My back and feet hurt more than normal from working so hard to stay vertical. Thankfully, it was time to leave Alaska and set sail for the Caribbean. On the way, we docked for a few hours in Los Angeles.There, a quick lunch with sister Cindy did me a world of good, as I was lonely and homesick by this time. This stop also allowed me to unload boxes of stuff I had managed to accumulate in my tiny room. I would have never been able to get it all home on the plane from New Orleans—our final port of the contract.

*******

Come October, the sun was here to stay, and we had a new activity–sunbathing! Actually I had three new activities: sunbathing followed by burning followed by peeling. It was good to thaw out, and since the weather was warm, I was able to walk lots of laps around the deck at night. I saw the most stunning rainbows and tropical lightning storms. Staring out into miles of nothing but ocean made me feel exhilarated, peaceful, lonely, and isolated all at the same time.

After Los Angeles, we made our way south to Cabo San Lucas on the southernmost tip of the Baha California peninsula. The rock formations were beautiful, but the land was barren. I spent my hour of free time on the phone with Ron. Phoning home, boyfriends, or girlfriends was a big deal when you got to port. You could do it from the ship, but you might as well hand over your entire paycheck. On land, during these Dark Ages before cell phones, you could often find phone centers where they would tell you the rate per minute to call a certain country. I made the call from Cabo through a hotel, and it cost me close to $300. (That was still cheaper than the ship’s rate.) Ron and I had so much to say about how much we missed each other, but I had to hang up on him anyway or run out of money.

Next stop: Acapulco! (Why was Mexico so dirty?) I bought colorful Mexican blankets that I could buy cheaper in L.A. just to say I bought them from Acapulco. I quickly got tired of bartering and stopped for an authentic lunch of incredible chicken enchiladas with a deliciously different chocolate-based mole sauce. I was reminded of that lunch for the next few weeks as Montezuma took his revenge. From Acapulco, it cost me $8 a minute to phone Ron in England, so I budgeted for ten minutes. These calls were breaking my bank, but I wanted to keep this long-distance relationship afloat.

We sailed south to Costa Rica. I longed to hike into the rain forest to commune with monkeys and exotic birds and flowers but, having only a few hours free time, I just took a quick trip into town. The town was poor and dirty, but the surrounding landscape was lush and green and gorgeous. A couple friends and I ordered bottled beer in a tiny bar with a dirt floor, a few tables and bar stools, and a hand-painted menu on the wall.

Without this cruise ship experience, I probably never would have traveled to some of the places on our itinerary, especially the Central American and South American ports I would consider slightly dangerous. Costa Rica had become a trendy tourist spot, but any of the places with blatant poverty or Third World country status left me uneasy; I was paranoid they were corrupt and inhabited primarily by drug traffickers, possible kidnappers, and petty thieves who preyed on trusting tourists. I figured the cruise ship industry wouldn’t risk taking passengers to a really unsafe place, but once you hopped in a cab and were on your own, you just hoped you were with someone trustworthy. You didn’t want to turn the wrong corner and walk straight into a guerrilla ambush. I often consulted with the ship’s officers or cruise staff who knew the ports. They’d tell us what to expect and how to get around safely. Being fluent in Spanish would have made me feel better.

These exotic locales were also infused with the possibility of extreme adventure and romance. As I sipped my Mexican beer in this hovel that served as a watering hole, I imagined myself the sexy heroine (unwed romance novelist Joan Wilder) of the comedic murder-kidnapping-treasure hunt movie
Romancing the Stone
awaiting the swashbuckling, bird-smuggling Jack T. Colton to sweep me off my feet for a night of Latin dancing and passion followed by a daring quest to track down a massive emerald before the killer-kidnappers did. The setting seemed perfect for those daring individuals who wanted to get themselves into trouble.

Onward to the Panama Canal, which would take us from the Pacific Ocean to the Caribbean Sea. I spent a day sipping rum drinks on deck as we traversed this marvelous feat of engineering. Ships paid quite a sum of money for the privilege of passing through the canal. The trip was particularly fascinating because it was such a tight squeeze. Our ship left little room to spare on either side. We watched as a bunch of small, dark Panamanians boarded the
Noordam
and hooked her up to tiny tugs that guided her through the manmade waterway without a scratch. I soaked in the view of verdant green rain forests and waterfalls.

Each minute passed by like a week, because I was desperately missing Ron and worried about our fate as a couple. He was back in England, and it would be a long time before mail could reach the ship again. We absolutely lived for mail. I never knew that time could pass by so slowly. I was startled to have my sightseeing afternoon interrupted by a visit from the cruise director. He smirked and placed a practically transparent air mail envelope in my hand. I was confused. Even though we never docked, the ship was able to receive mail in Panama, because the Panamanians who came aboard brought it along. It was a letter from Ron telling me how much he loved and missed me. I nearly fainted. I was walking on air the rest of the day.

Our next port was the filthy, poverty-stricken town of Cartagena, Colombia, on the Caribbean Coast. We disembarked to an entourage of fully armed soldiers in camouflage fatigues and entrepreneurs selling Colombian coffee and something that passed as vanilla extract. I bought both but never did spot Juan Valdez. The old architecture and walled fortresses were impressive monuments. A group of us were coerced by a pushy, persistent local guy into touring a historic church/castle for “free.” At the end, of course, he put the pressure on us to give donations. We left a few dollars and skedaddled while he was still calling after us for more. Walking around town was scary, because people were shouting and pointing aggressively at us. I ran back to the ship and took refuge well before the last call to board. God forbid I should be late and the ship set sail without me while I’m standing next to irate, Colombian, rifle-bearing militia, wildly waving to the ship to “Come back!” because I don’t speak a word of Spanish and only brought along enough cash to buy lunch (half of which I just gave to the assertive tour guide).

My favorite stop was the British Island of Grand Cayman, which is famous for its seven-mile white sand beach with crystal-clear turquoise-blue water. I was so relieved to be in a place where the lifestyle was more what I was accustomed to. Banks everywhere, sporting all different names, suggested to me that this was a perfect place to launder and hide money. Still, Grand Cayman was clean, gorgeous, and high class. I visited the Turtle Farm and the eerie black rock formations known as Hell. At at little gift shop, I bought some scrumptious Tortuga rum cakes.

Our last Caribbean hurrah was our visit to the island of Cozumel, off the eastern coast of Mexico's Yucatán Peninsula. Cozumel (about 30 miles long and 10 miles wide) was dusty and dirty in typical Mexican fashion and full of great shopping “bargains.” I bought some pretty silver bracelets with colored stones inset and a bright yellow and red lizard Mexican mask for my collection. I met up with a group of my friends at the famous Carlos and Charlie’s bar for margaritas, chips and salsa, loud music, and laughter.

While in the Caribbean, we had periodic coast guard inspections during which they searched our rooms for illegal substances and alien island boys. I was always a little bit afraid. Was there something or someone hiding in my room who I didn’t know about? Candy and I checked out clean, but I wondered what would happen if they did find contraband or a stowaway.

The end of the line for the M.S.
Noordam
was New Orleans, Louisiana, back in my beloved U. S. of A. I left my floating home and gladly boarded a plane to L.A. That trip was an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime adventure, albeit a tad too long for me. My five-month-long work day was finally over. Time to punch out.

*******

When we disembarked the
Noordam
, I was sure I’d had my fill of sailing. Probably forever. But Anita had asked our cast to perform for two weeks on a cruise ship currently cruising around
New Zealand
! It was only ten days, after all. And it was New Zealand, for goodness sake! How could I say no? We were home for only one day of repacking before taking our shows across the world to meet the MS
Maasdam
in Christchurch. First we flew to Hawaii for an overnight in Honolulu on the island of Oahu. After a seaside dinner of mahi-mahi and rum drinks, shopping, a walk, and a gorgeous sunset on Waikiki beach, I was rejuvenated and ready for the ten-hour flight to the land of Kiwis and Kookaburra.

New Zealand is twenty-one hours ahead of L.A. Talk about jet lag! To make matters worse, I had also caught some kind of sinus infection and could barely sing my solo songs. I didn’t stress too much, as we had only two performances. I was a bit miffed at something else, however. Our “Birth of the Blues” choreographer and another young woman joined the cast, so we’d have more performers to fill the bigger stage. The choreography they had rehearsed by themselves in L.A. before the trip had many slight variations from our show. But since the choreographer was in charge, the six of us had to change the show we had been performing for five months to accommodate the two of them. It’s much harder to change a habit than to learn something new, and I simply did not want to have to think that hard and make a bunch of unnecessary changes for a mere two performances. “Get over yourself, Kristi, and just learn the new choreography. You get to see New Zealand!” I wisely told myself.

Once I stepped aboard the M.S.
Maasdam
, I changed my mind about sailing. This was a “world cruise” for which passengers had paid upward of $20,000 to travel for a few months in absolute luxury. These people were traveling in style, and we had
passenger status
! That meant we had normal cabins like the passengers did, got to eat in any dining room (including the formal one), and could partake of
any
of the activities on board. There was even a real Starbucks on board, and we could order anything we wanted and as much as we wanted for
free
. I think I gained ten pounds just from mochas. The ship had a plush movie theatre and a gym complete with smoothie bar. It offered wine tastings and lectures by acclaimed authors, and a big Octoberfest celebration. The formal dining room was unbelievable. It had two levels that were connected by a grand spiral staircase. The menu offered several choices for each course, all gourmet, scrumptious, and exquisite. And we could order any and all of it at
no charge
. Even steak and lobster. Again, I got so chubby. I don’t know how you take a cruise like that and not return home twice your size. Food is available twenty-four hours a day and it’s all so enticing. The big dining room excitement was not the spectacular food, however; it was having famous singer and actress Rosemary Clooney sitting at the table next to us. She, too, was performing on the ship. What a star-spotting!

I fell in love with the friendly people of New Zealand and its gorgeous green hills covered with yellow flowers and dotted with sheep. I bought a hand-knit, heavy wool sweater and became hooked on pumpkin soup.

One sea day, we cruised Milford Sound—a fiord in Fiordland National Park on the southwest side of the south island. I could see why it was New Zealand’s most popular tourist attraction. Its spectacular icy-blue glaciers were reminiscent of Alaska, but its deep verdant green mountains reminded me of the Hawaiian islands with a dusting of snow on top. Like Alaska, this was one of those places that were so strikingly beautiful they could be considered proof of God.

As we left the shores of New Zealand and headed into the open waters of the Tasman Sea bound for Adelaide, Australia (our exit port), the waters became so rough that trying to do a sit up in the gym was next to impossible. My sea sickness worsened. When our cruise was over, I kissed the Australian soil. I was so happy to be on solid land again.