Dieting on the High Seas

Sometimes when you lose a contest, it doesn’t mean your entry should line the bottom of a bird cage. Sometimes, it means it simply didn’t fit the judge’s expectations.

Over the summer I entered an essay contest with a “sister” theme. My submission didn’t win, but I still believe it honors my favorite sister. And since I don’t own a bird, I decided to line this blog entry with it. 🙂

Here is my entry, “Dieting on the High Seas”:

The year, 2007 was a more innocent time than it is today. Back then, all we worried about while traveling, were terrorism, unattended bags that might contain a bomb, and “is my shampoo bottle small enough to make it through airport security?”

Despite those concerns, in mid-October, 2007, I flew from cloudy Philadelphia to partly cloudy Orlando to meet my older sister. The adventure had been her idea. We’d been planning it for months; a sister cruise.

Early Sunday morning, her husband drove us from their home to the nearest Waffle House where my sister and I caught a bus to Fort Lauderdale where our cruise ship awaited.

According to the daily bulletin, slipped under our cabin door, our second night at sea would be the first of two formal nights in the main dining room. Months earlier, during the registration process, we had made reservations for one of the ship’s restaurants, called the Pinnacle Grill.

In my mind, the word “grill,” conjured visions of flaming burgers and wienies. Although it was formal night in the main dining room, the special dress code couldn’t possibly apply to a grill. When my sister shimmied into an elegant dress, though, I followed her lead (at least, as best as my packed suitcase would allow). I put on a tasteful sweater and a pair of navy slacks.

My sister appraised my outfit and announced, “Those slacks aren’t fancy enough for this restaurant.”

If fancy she wanted, fancy she would get. I changed into my pinstriped blazer and matching pants. She shook her head. “I don’t think you can wear that either.”

How swanky did I have to look? It was a grill!

My definition of an older sister has always been cheerleader, protector, and best friend. Apparently, wardrobe consultant also belonged on that list. In the end, because big sisters know best, I borrowed her flowing black skirt and matching top.

Our reservations were for the earliest seating at the Pinnacle Grill; 5:30 PM. We hadn’t chosen it because we were “early bird special” seniors, we were more like middle-aged ladies who abhorred the idea of waiting seven hours between lunch and dinner.

Except for the fact that my sister was always the girlie-girl and I was the tomboy, we often thought alike. Our shared punctuality made us the first diners in the restaurant. Waitstaff converged on us from all sides, probably because they had nothing else to do. They topped up our ice tea glasses and replaced baskets of the delectable bread that came in varying shapes and flavors.

“Let me just try one more of these cute bread sticks,” my sister said, followed by a sigh of ecstasy. I did the same with the rolls, so warm and moist.

Before our appetizers arrived, we were treated to a sampling of kitchen delicacies. I referred to them as, “little bites of stuff” because I was used to eating at establishments that meant it when they called themselves a grill.

One of the bites came with a confusing name. Not wanting to sound like a complete rube to the waitstaff, I leaned across the table and mumbled to my sister, “What is salmon tartare?”

“It means, raw,” she announced with the confidence of someone who had lived on this earth one full year, eleven months and ten days longer than me. I wanted to believe her, but, when we were kids, this was the same sister who asserted with self-assurance that restaurants only gave out straws because they never washed the glasses.

Her main course, halibut with hollandaise sauce and crab legs, lost me at the sauce. Hollandaise ingredients didn’t appeal to the picky-eater in me. I ordered the cedar plank scampi. A row of butterfly shrimp actually arrived on a slat. Whether or not the wood was cedar was anybody’s guess.

After consuming appetizers, bread, more bread, main courses, multiple glasses of ice tea, we still accepted our waiter’s dessert recommendation and ordered the lava cake. At the conclusion of our meal, we waddled out with shared regret for our gluttony. We agreed that starting tomorrow, our diets would begin.

That next day, since we’d ordered our room service breakfast pre-diet, we didn’t count the English muffins that came with it. Similarly, we agreed to overlook the three desserts we ate at lunch. They were too tasty to count. And how could we turn down an opportunity to partake of the ship’s high tea? My sister had been to one before and wanted me to experience it as well.

We settled into the quiet lounge as the parade of gentlemen in white uniforms began. The tea-gent stopped first, offering us one of the individually wrapped teabags displayed in a wooden case. Second came the man with little pots of hot water. Then came the finger sandwich guy. Diet or not, it would have been rude to reject him. We took two each. Finally, the dessert man breezed by. Again, rude to say no.

“Diet starts tomorrow,” we said in unison.

A few days later, following our taco and fries lunch on the pool deck, we marched to the nearest ladies’ room to change from bathing suits into dry clothes. The restroom was a small, two-stall affair. Both stalls were occupied with one woman waiting ahead of us. The first stall opened up and the woman entered.

Of like minds, when we heard the toilet flush in the second stall, we assumed the door would open momentarily. The toilet flushed again. We waited. It flushed a third time. We glanced at each other. By the fourth flush we communicated nonverbally that whatever that poor woman was unsuccessfully trying to jettison was not something we wanted any part of.

When the first stall became available, we crammed inside to change. That was when we deemed our diets a success. After all, we both fit.

Maybe I didn’t win the contest, but I definitely won when I got Sharon for an older sister!