It's Free (Sort Of)

I promised myself I would never do this. Never, ever, ever. For as long as I can remember, I always tossed them out when they came intruding into my mailbox. You know -- those ever so superficially alluring promos from mostly real estate interests of one type or another promising free this or free that if all you would do is come on down and listen to a little spiel about their product. We know, and they know (and they know that we know) that this is a little scam to pry loose thousands of dollars from us all in the name of an “enhanced vacation experience.” I always said to myself, what dummy would actually fall for this thinly veiled mockery?

Well, apparently, I am more of a dummy than I gave myself credit for, or, at least I’ve become one since retiring. So, what happened here? I saw the envelope in the mail: a promise of a free cruise. Even knowing what this was about, I was feeling a bit mischievous and curious, and decided to call the folks just to see what it was like to speak to the devil. The nice lady at the other end of the line asked me only to come to their office in Charleston with Lily (and proper identification, please) where we could pick up our free cruise voucher after a “brief” encounter with company “representatives” who would merely introduce us to a wonderful new product before the voucher could be issued. I laughed and agreed. When I told Lily about this, I told her it would be a hoot to do this and she could count on me to nap through what I figured would be a cutesy video presentation. I encouraged her to bring something to read.

I had no idea what I was talking about. Zero. After being introduced to our personal representative, Shannon, whose job no doubt was to soften the first lines of our resistance, we were ushered in to a large room. Here, the subzero climate they maintained was not the primary distraction only because Mike was. In rolled this large sized man with a voice that knew no volume control. I could be wrong about this, but I think Mike’s last name was Megaphone. And, Lily and I were sitting in the front row within spitting distance of the mammoth air conditioning vent that was actively trying to single-handedly create the new ice age. I felt as if our hair was being bent backwards by the force of the sonic waves coming from Mike’s mouth. With Mike finding it to be presumably an effective selling technique by making his presentation interactive, it sealed the deal that there would be no napping or casual reading while he held us hostage.

As Mike and the air conditioning terrorized us, we were showered -- no, make that inundated -- with facts and figures that made it all sound as if this real estate “time share-like” proposal was indisputably a deal that only an idiot could decline. We’d save thousands, and over the 40 year plan that was on the table we would travel the world for pennies. How could you lose? Although I was wearing a t-shirt, I felt as if I were wearing a shirt and tie that were three sizes too small. I felt that somehow they had managed to artificially increase the air pressure in there far beyond normal bounds. Indeed, the fabulous relentlessness of Mike’s performance, made me feel like I was in the middle of the original Terminator with Arnold Schwarzenegger ruthlessly pursuing me with absolutely no chance for denial or reprieve. Or mercy. I felt some compassion for those facing what they euphemistically call “aggressive questioning” by law enforcement or the military. My head was swimming. I felt hunted.

Almost two hours later, Lily and I managed to fend off Mike and Shannon’s final stabs at our vulnerability and, almost begrudgingly, we were issued our voucher for a free cruise out of Charleston to points South . We were so stressed out, we couldn’t wait to get back home, grab two beach chairs, Mojo, and the largest rum drink I’ve had since my junior year in college. We headed to the beach to watch the last rays of the sun... and decompress.

The funny thing here -- lost in all the combat sequences we had just survived -- was that Lily and I have never thought of ourselves as cruise candidates. Just not our style. Our sense of it is that it’s a place for spandex, coiffed hair and garishly mismatched deck wear. And, of course, a non-stop eating experience where food is available in every nook and cranny of this floating refrigerator.

But we’re going alright. This is our only way to finally defeat Ahhnold.