To complain about a cruise is a lot like complaining how hard life is if you’re pretty. You strain the credibility and patience of your audience. So go ahead. I give you each one free ticket for an “Up yours, Linda.”*

Now then. Sis and I are at sea again. And I must say, cruising isn’t what it used to be if this is the new norm. Keep in mind this is Carnival, and to be fair, the Fun Ships are mostly known for activities that involve synchronized farting or puking on your shoes. My age may now be making such things less attractive than they used to be. I have come to expect a certain level of civility.

This was an inexpensive cruise to Hawaii because it didn’t leave from the United States. We were bused from San Diego to Ensenada. Yes, through the center of the Black Tar Wars. In 53, count ‘em, 53 buses. Federáles surrounded us in armored Jeeps, Mars lights flashing all the way. 53 buses of old Americans put through three different security clearances not even counting the border crossing. The picture you have in your head right now? It’s not bad enough to adequately portray the event.

Still we arrived and are now under way. However, there seem to be no employees on this ship. It leads to notices like this in the daily itinerary:

11:00 am ….…. Lido Stage …………………….. Bean Bag Toss (Unsupervised)

A lack of service personnel is only one sign of the new Austerity Age. When you unwrap your dinnerware from the napkin, it’s anybody’s guess what might be inside. A knife. A knife and teaspoon. A pickle fork. Take it and be damned is the operative philosophy here.

As long time readers of the Back Nine are aware, Sis and I have particular problems with towel animals. They used to be cute bunnies, monkeys, puppies. But recently, ours have been either headless or, blush, out and out rude (we got one on this trip I am too embarrassed to show you. Think of it as the Swiss army knife of marital aids). Yet now, the same cruise line that persists in twisted towels, also notifies me I am an eco-enemy if I don’t use my shower towel for more than one shower. Priorities, people!

Other austerity casualties: Flower arrangements around the ship (think more in terms of empty beer bottles). Free shampoo, conditioner, body lotion. Your steward is now caring for at least 128 rooms so don’t pester him with frivolous requests like, “For the love of God, could I please have more soap?” It’s like an adult version of Oliver.

One thing though that I thought I’d really like. There’s been a changeover in music now that the oldest cruisers have moved off the decks and into nursing homes. The musical stylings are only one millennium out of date.

But after a solid week of Chantilly Lace, Charlie Brown, I’m Hungry, It’s In His Kiss, Down Town and Eve of Destruction, I could use a little Rat Pack.

Aloha from the Back Nine.

*This excludes my critique group whose members have been using this phrase a little too often lately. I’m just saying.