Last night while dressing for dinner we heard an announcement over the loudspeaker. Inaudible from our cabin, we brushed it off as most likely a promotion to spend money, dismissing our inability to hear it as insignificant.
After dinner, we scurried to the Celebrity Theatre for the 9:00 pm musical/comedy show, a medley of impersonations of past and current “divas.” I was reminded of Simon Cowell berating performers on both “American Idol” and “The X Factor” as to sounding comparable to a “second rate cruise ship act.”
However, cruise-ship-like the performance, we enjoyed every moment, chatting all the way back to our cabin as to the professional performances. As we entered our cabin we noticed an envelope sitting atop the well-turned down bed. Hum, we both thought, “another promo” as I tore open the envelope.
Dear Celebrity Century Guest,
During this sailing, there has been a small percentage of guests onboard who have experienced gastrointestinal illness, thought to be Norovirus.”
The content of the letter continued to make an earnest effort to minimize the potential hazards of such an outbreak on board, extol the virtues of frequent hand washing and inform us that attendants will be standing outside each restaurant, restroom, and elevator equipped with an ample supply of hand sanitizer.
We were encouraged to immediately contact the ship’s medical facility for a “complimentary consultation and treatment” should symptoms of nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea be experienced to any degree.
That event was what distracted us during dinner, the sudden turning of the ship, and eventual landing at a pier to drop off the ailing passenger(s) to awaiting medical professionals. Do we need to worry?
It’s evident that the ship’s staff is on high alert while we also take responsibility for remaining diligent every step of the way including reminding each other of potential risks.
Growing up in California, sunning has always been a favorite pastime of mine. Living on a lake in Minnesota these past 26 years has provided limited periods of time to lounge in a lawn chair, unpredictable weather a frequent deterrent during the short summer months.
On occasion, we’d lounge together in the row of crisp white lounge chairs that lined our yard, laughing, talking, and taking in the warming effects of the sun. In less than 30 minutes, he’d be a rosy pink while I tanned easily.
With many tropical locations as part of our worldwide adventures, we discussed how we’d manage our sun exposure to avoid the risks while enhancing our exposure to much needed Vitamin D. Besides, a bit of a healthy glow of a tan works well with our skimpier warm weather clothing.
Lying on our stomachs to “work the backside” our faces squished into the navy blue cushions we looked at one another smiling, the little crinkles around our eyes accentuated by our positions, our sunglasses perched atop our heads. Tom asked, “Do you know that song?” as the well-played music blared from the nearby stage.
For a moment, time stood still as we gazed deeply into each other’s eyes, knowing that at exactly that moment we were thinking the same thing. “This is our new life. Not a vacation. Not a trip. But a new life that ends only when we want it to or, when it must end due to unforeseen reasons.
