Feb 17th, 2010, 03:19 AM
Scene: piano bar, Carnival Freedom, somewhere between Jamaica and Florida, spring 2009
Note for context: I worked on the ship. "Fraternization" (secks) with passengers is against the rules.
Cute blonde girl across the bar keeps waving in my direction and mouthing "come over here!" Can't be talking to me, so I ignore her.
I walk by her to talk to one of the waitresses, and she grabs my arm. Alright, she was talking to me. She's way drunk and laying it on heavy, trying to hold my hand, rub against me, etc. We're standing up in the bright lights by the piano, and half of my co-workers are nearby, so I tell her to cool it, then quietly begin making arrangements to meet elsewhere.
One of the social hosts comes up and loudly asks me "did you get that gonorrhea problem taken care of" in the most obvious cockblock in history because she knew where I was headed and was trying to keep me from losing my job. I tell her to go away, make sure the blonde knows that was a joke, and continue.
She says "I'm not going to have sex with you," implying anything else is fair game. Whatever, moving along. Because she is drunk (maybe stupid too?) and my preferred hookup spot is occupied by a little Asian man with a vacuum cleaner, It takes like an hour to successfully get her back to my room. My 65-year-old English roommate is sleeping in the top bunk, but I'm not letting that get in the way.
We start making out and she immediately starts in on the cliches like "you just wanted to get me back here and take advantage of me," (duh) "I bet you're gonna tell all your friends about this tomorrow," (no, I'm gonna wait two days til you sign off the ship). I barely manage to avoid falling off the bed when I find out she's wearing rubber cups on her tits to make them look bigger.
While we're still at second base, the cliche of choice presently becomes "omigod no one's ever touched me like that before" (apparently the only guys she's ever made out with before have been teenaged virgins). Then she drops the bomb: "I'm a Jehovah's Witness and so are all my friends. I'm a virgin and I've never been touched below the waist." I'd like to verify her age at this point, but I just have to take her word that she's 23. She doesn't look like jailbait except for the itty bitty titties. And if she's telling the truth, this is fucking awesome.
Moving along, I can't get her off with my fingers (probably due to too many vodka/red bulls) but she does bust out the "make love to me now!" bit. I shoot that idea down because I know she doesn't really mean it, and if she wakes up tomorrow and realizes she gave up her virginity in some musician's cabin last night, she has a whole day to get me fired for it.
Now it's blowjob time. She's inexperienced but has some serious natural talent (and she swallows!). Afterward, she acts juvenile and wants to make a point about kissing me because she's still hung up on all the cliches about the way asshole boys treat girls when they hook up, and she even says "now that you got what you wanted, you're gonna make me leave, aren't you?"
The phone rings. Who the fuck is calling me at 4 in the morning? I've been the victim of drunk dials on this ship before, and no one can have a good reason to call me. But I'm dumb and answer anyway. "Steven, is there someone in your room with you?" comes the voice of the security officer from the phone and also from outside because he's using the public phone right outside my room. I hang up, but I'm obviously trapped. We both start getting dressed quickly, and the knock on the door comes in less than ten seconds. There's pretty much no way this is gonna end well, but I think what the hell? and motion to the girl to hide in the closet. I then lie down on the bed immediately before security unlocks it and comes in.
Of course they check the closet, and the game is over. Apparently the chick's friends got really worried about her, and after they went around the whole ship looking for her, they called security for help and a systematic search started, involving almost the entire security staff (several of whom had been sleeping). I was a suspect because they knew we were talking back in the bar. If they didn't find her in my cabin the next step was going to be the man overboard alarm, which is srs bsns. Anyway, they're required to take pictures of the scene for evidence, but blonde girl doesn't like this and hides her face and yells at them. It's nice that she's on my side here and not pissed at me. After a dozen pictures of me standing there looking guilty and her with her hand in front of her face, one officer escorts her out and I never see her again.
The musical director is ten times pissed at me. The cruise director is maybe less pissed and more disappointed and tired cause he doesn't get enough sleep as it is and his girlfriend's family is visiting this week, and as my department head he has to escort me to the security office to incriminate myself in writing.
The next day, I have an audience with the staff captain (the head boss of all the crew), and since he's a nice guy I display proper contriteness--you don't mouth off to Italian ex-military when they're in charge of the situation--he lets me off with nothing but a written warning. This is kinda ridiculous, since I should be fired or at least banned from passenger areas for two weeks to life, but obviously I'm not gonna complain. The musical director does ban me from passenger bars, but whatever. I get to keep my job, and there is much disbelieving laughter from the rest of the entertainment crew when I tell the story.
It was too good to be true. One day later, the ship arrives in our home port of Fort Lauderdale, and at 8 AM there is a knock on my door. It's the Cruise Director! He says the corporate office overturned the staff captain's decision about my case, and I have to be fired. Evidently bringing a passenger into a crew area without an officer's permission is against international maritime law. If the conference room I wanted to use had been open, I would have gotten off with the written warning. C'est la vie. I'm required to leave the door to my room open while I pack to make sure I don't vandalize anything, and a friendly Filipino security officer is assigned to watch me every second until I leave the ship.
I catch a handful of friends on my way out, and they're all nice enough to say the company sucks and I don't deserve to be canned. By 10:30 AM I'm off the ship and I get to call my parents in Minnesota to say "hey mom and dad, I'm in south Florida and I need a ride home."
It was so worth it.