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Day Three of my Caribbean Cruise. Woke up this morning and had to remind myself – again – where the actual fuck I am. I’m in cabin 12614, deck 12 of the Allure of the Ocean. Ocean View room with a balcony looking out. Got the two beds converted to a Royal King. It’s only me here for the next three weeks, so I’ll be damned if I’m going to slum it by sleeping in a measly twin bed. Thanks to the boss I’m here instead of working, but he’s kicked in for this vacation, so I’m stuck here. Walked around the ship a bit yesterday, once I’d gotten my head about it. I’ll give it this much – these Oasis-class cruise ships are fucking huge. Plenty to do, including nothing. You bastard, Jason – how the fuck am I supposed to manage for three weeks in a cruise ship when you’ve locked up my logins?
Yeah…that’s the sort of shit I’d write in my Diary if I actually kept one.
Brett McAlister wasn’t normally grumpy and annoyed, but he had reason to be – or so he’d tell anyone who’d bothered to listen…which, admittedly, wasn’t a large number of people. This day – Friday; he’d boarded the cruise liner in Miami on the Wednesday – was technically the last day of his first week off work. He wasn’t happy about it, but his boss, Jason Grant, had told him two weeks ago that he, Brett, was going to be taking time off work even if he had to be forced. At the time, Brett hadn’t given much thought to it and replied with what largely amounted to lip-service, but the next week Brett discovered that his holidays were approved by HR, and the IT team were preparing to close his access for the six weeks that had been approved.
Brett worked for a small-ish, but very successful, architectural firm called “KDR Designs” – Jason was the business owner, and the firm had about thirty staff all up. After high school, Brett had gone on to university to study architecture and designs, and graduated top of his class. He’d done his internship, gotten good reviews and references, and his work soon had him in high demand in the industry. He was not quite a perfectionist and was quite happy putting in extra hours to make sure his clients got exactly what they were after, or the best alternative if their wants were not attainable. He also happily worked ten-hour, sometimes twelve-hour days, and was not averse to working six-day weeks, and sometimes on Sundays as well.
He didn’t mind his self-imposed workload. He had no family of his own. He was single, as good a bachelor if there ever was one, and well-off financially for his work and single life. He had a spacious apartment in Fort Lauderdale, worked in Miramar, proudly drove his silver Porsche 918 Spyder to and from work. He dated occasionally, but nothing came of it – he was often guilty of putting work first, and the girls he dated didn’t like it; he understood that, but he wasn’t going to change who he was. The only family he had were his ageing parents, his older brother, and his younger sister – but he only really saw them at important family events, such as birthdays, Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.
He was an attractive man, too. At forty-three years of age, he stood a respectable 5-feet-eleven tall, was slim to the point of being wiry, had expressive brown eyes over a strong nose, had medium-brown hair that was starting to grey a little, and wore thin glasses for reading. His thin frame was largely due to diet than exercise – he often ate light and sparsely, although his nutritional intake was good, and he wasn’t much of an alcohol drinker. His exercise consisted mainly of walks around the neighbourhood. He tended to dress well enough – given he spent most of his time working, he didn’t have a lot in the way of casual clothes, and most of his wardrobe was smart casual or semi-professional. He had his mobile phone with him, but it was largely useless given work email wasn’t coming through to him. He had his laptop, but it was largely for web browsing and not actual work. A few books and subscription magazines accompanied him for this trip as well; odds were pretty good they’d get read during the cruise.
The cruise had been Jason’s idea. After the bombshell that Brett was going to be taking six weeks off work come hell or high water, Jason had suggested the cruise to really get away from it all. Jason was worried that Brett was going to burn out, and it wasn’t going to be pretty if it happened. Jason had wanted to head off that possibility, so had told Brett to book a long cruise, and Jason would kick in a quarter of the cost. That had pretty much decided it. After a few days of surfing, Brett had decided on the Caribbean cruise. Expensive, but long enough that even Brett knew would make for a good break. He made the booking, paid for it all with Jason’s contribution, worked out luggage and stuff…eventually travelled with a couple of suitcases and a shoulder-bag. Brett knew the liner was large, but nothing had prepared him for actually boarding it: it was like a fucking small city – well, not really, but it felt like it. He found his cabin, unpacked, settled, got the room set up how he wanted it…but the fact that this ship was his home for the next three weeks still didn’t fully hit him until the ship set sail. He spent the first day moping in his cabin, only venturing out for dinner. At least meals on the ship, plus activities and facilities, were covered in his ticket; entertainment and shops were out of his own pocket. He could live with that…as if he now had a choice.
Thursday he was a bit more adventurous – he left his room, walked around the ship, explored a little. He had no-one with him, so didn’t have to work to anyone’s timetable but his own. Families were everywhere, some older, some younger; couples on a “romantic getaway” could be seen as well, and elderly couples probably on their bucket list. It didn’t matter much to Brett; so long as he got to be left in peace, others could do what they liked for the next three weeks.
That brought him to today – Friday. Mid-morning. Breakfast was done. Maybe he’d check out the rear of the ship, see what activities were on offer there. If nothing, he could go up, see the sun desk, have a drink by the pool…at least the annoyance had largely faded, to be replaced more by a “now what?” feeling. He sighed softly, got up from the breakfast table at the Park Café on Deck Eight (he was sure as hell in no hurry), thanked the service staff for their attention, and headed out to the Central Park walk. He headed towards the rear elevators…the Pool Bar was on Deck Fourteen. This was a good a time as any to check it out.
Yeah…that’s the sort of shit I’d write in my Diary if I actually kept one.
Brett McAlister wasn’t normally grumpy and annoyed, but he had reason to be – or so he’d tell anyone who’d bothered to listen…which, admittedly, wasn’t a large number of people. This day – Friday; he’d boarded the cruise liner in Miami on the Wednesday – was technically the last day of his first week off work. He wasn’t happy about it, but his boss, Jason Grant, had told him two weeks ago that he, Brett, was going to be taking time off work even if he had to be forced. At the time, Brett hadn’t given much thought to it and replied with what largely amounted to lip-service, but the next week Brett discovered that his holidays were approved by HR, and the IT team were preparing to close his access for the six weeks that had been approved.
Brett worked for a small-ish, but very successful, architectural firm called “KDR Designs” – Jason was the business owner, and the firm had about thirty staff all up. After high school, Brett had gone on to university to study architecture and designs, and graduated top of his class. He’d done his internship, gotten good reviews and references, and his work soon had him in high demand in the industry. He was not quite a perfectionist and was quite happy putting in extra hours to make sure his clients got exactly what they were after, or the best alternative if their wants were not attainable. He also happily worked ten-hour, sometimes twelve-hour days, and was not averse to working six-day weeks, and sometimes on Sundays as well.
He didn’t mind his self-imposed workload. He had no family of his own. He was single, as good a bachelor if there ever was one, and well-off financially for his work and single life. He had a spacious apartment in Fort Lauderdale, worked in Miramar, proudly drove his silver Porsche 918 Spyder to and from work. He dated occasionally, but nothing came of it – he was often guilty of putting work first, and the girls he dated didn’t like it; he understood that, but he wasn’t going to change who he was. The only family he had were his ageing parents, his older brother, and his younger sister – but he only really saw them at important family events, such as birthdays, Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.
He was an attractive man, too. At forty-three years of age, he stood a respectable 5-feet-eleven tall, was slim to the point of being wiry, had expressive brown eyes over a strong nose, had medium-brown hair that was starting to grey a little, and wore thin glasses for reading. His thin frame was largely due to diet than exercise – he often ate light and sparsely, although his nutritional intake was good, and he wasn’t much of an alcohol drinker. His exercise consisted mainly of walks around the neighbourhood. He tended to dress well enough – given he spent most of his time working, he didn’t have a lot in the way of casual clothes, and most of his wardrobe was smart casual or semi-professional. He had his mobile phone with him, but it was largely useless given work email wasn’t coming through to him. He had his laptop, but it was largely for web browsing and not actual work. A few books and subscription magazines accompanied him for this trip as well; odds were pretty good they’d get read during the cruise.
The cruise had been Jason’s idea. After the bombshell that Brett was going to be taking six weeks off work come hell or high water, Jason had suggested the cruise to really get away from it all. Jason was worried that Brett was going to burn out, and it wasn’t going to be pretty if it happened. Jason had wanted to head off that possibility, so had told Brett to book a long cruise, and Jason would kick in a quarter of the cost. That had pretty much decided it. After a few days of surfing, Brett had decided on the Caribbean cruise. Expensive, but long enough that even Brett knew would make for a good break. He made the booking, paid for it all with Jason’s contribution, worked out luggage and stuff…eventually travelled with a couple of suitcases and a shoulder-bag. Brett knew the liner was large, but nothing had prepared him for actually boarding it: it was like a fucking small city – well, not really, but it felt like it. He found his cabin, unpacked, settled, got the room set up how he wanted it…but the fact that this ship was his home for the next three weeks still didn’t fully hit him until the ship set sail. He spent the first day moping in his cabin, only venturing out for dinner. At least meals on the ship, plus activities and facilities, were covered in his ticket; entertainment and shops were out of his own pocket. He could live with that…as if he now had a choice.
Thursday he was a bit more adventurous – he left his room, walked around the ship, explored a little. He had no-one with him, so didn’t have to work to anyone’s timetable but his own. Families were everywhere, some older, some younger; couples on a “romantic getaway” could be seen as well, and elderly couples probably on their bucket list. It didn’t matter much to Brett; so long as he got to be left in peace, others could do what they liked for the next three weeks.
That brought him to today – Friday. Mid-morning. Breakfast was done. Maybe he’d check out the rear of the ship, see what activities were on offer there. If nothing, he could go up, see the sun desk, have a drink by the pool…at least the annoyance had largely faded, to be replaced more by a “now what?” feeling. He sighed softly, got up from the breakfast table at the Park Café on Deck Eight (he was sure as hell in no hurry), thanked the service staff for their attention, and headed out to the Central Park walk. He headed towards the rear elevators…the Pool Bar was on Deck Fourteen. This was a good a time as any to check it out.
