The Case of the Domestic Duo

Things did not begin well on my first cruise ever, a seven-nighter through the turquoise waters of the Eastern Caribbean. The ship itself was fine. It was massive—a floating island that boasted its own rock-climbing wall, an 18-hole golf course and a full-size replica of the Titanic in the main dining hall.

It was my cabin. You see, my oceanview stateroom failed to view the ocean.

“Steward!” I said, with steam rolling from my ears. “Where is my ocean view? All I see is a parking lot!”

“Sir,” he said, trying hard to stifle a smirk, “we haven’t left the dock yet.”

Hours later, after removing all the egg from my face, I donned my finest and only tuxedo and headed to the main dining hall. Upon arriving to my assigned table, finding it filled with spirited couples sporting cargo shorts and tank tops, I quickly realized I was more overdressed than an armored knight at a nudist camp.

Straightening my tie, I took my seat and was quickly introduced to tablemates Ben and Jen, an attractive couple with dark tans and bright smiles. After taking one look at my penguin suit, Jen asked, “First cruise? How do you like it so far?”

“Great,” I said. “Although I’m confused by the bearded guy we passed on that small island. He was jumping up and down, waving his arms like a madman.”

“Oh, him,” said Ben. “He acted crazy like that last year when the boat passed him. What kind of work do you do, Ace?”

“Insurance. What about you two?”

“Accountants,” Ben answered. “We work at different firms, but we might start a new one from our home, since Jen moved in with me last year.”

“Recently married?”

“No,” answered Jen, a triumphant look on her face. “I’m not falling for that misogynistic trap. I’m a modern, independent woman who doesn’t need a tiny handcuff on my ring finger.”

“That’s why I love her,” countered Ben with a shrug. “She’s more independent than Texas and only half as crazy.”

Like a woman trying on bikinis in January, I quickly saw a problem area. I looked at Jen’s gold Rolex and asked, “Do you have your own insurance policy, Jen?”

“Do I need one?” she asked.

Ben shook his head and said, “You don’t need one. My 1991 ISO HO-3 Coverage C section covers your personal property.”

“Judging by her watch alone, Jen needs more coverage than that,” I said.

Why was Ace rocking their boat?