A Christmas to Remember

This year for Christmas my bride and I "escaped" onto a five day northwestern Caribbean cruise.In many ways it was just what the doctor ordered for us both.
Here are a few observations I noted during the voyage.

(Somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, 12/23/23) -
I am sitting in the 11th Deck common serving area, on the northbound end of a southbound cruise ship, the RCCL/Voyager of the Seas. It's not quite noon in this latitude, and the late breakfast crowd is slowly shuffling out as the early lunch bunch arrives.
The wait staff has been here since before 6am.
 

The wrap around windows here provide a 180° view that encompasses the stern and a magnificent perspective of twin trails of aquamarine and white foam marking the track of the vessel.
It is sublime.
 

There is a literal parade of humanity aboard the Voyager: Families celebrating Christmas at sea--some for the first time--and some that are 'old salts' at cruising. Some have packed matching pajamas in red or green plaids, posing before giant-squid sized Christmas trees on the 5th deck promenade.

 

There would seem to be a clash of cultures, with young women in braids, mid-cropped T's, and short shorts leaving little to the imagination; proper, Asian families of three and four generations, nappily dressed with children perfectly comported; African men in Arabic kaftans and their wives (only one, each!) elegantly ornate with jewelry and designer jogging suits.
But it's Christmas weekend, and everyone is pretty harmonious, with peace on earth,
goodwill to men, and all that jazz.
Even in the food serving lines.
 

There's another parade, here, too, comprised of a multi-national serving crew. Name tags proudly boast polysyllabic proper nouns with more consonants than the tongue can comprehend, and their national origins are added as if an after thought: South Africa, Malaysia, Philippines, and Ghana among the place names I recognize.
Others I file away to research later.
 

A lovely woman with a long, dark, braided pigtail and wide hips navigates between the jumbled tables with a serving tray, retrieving used dishes. Her uniform trousers bunch
around her ankles because the cut of the pants are a little long because of the accommodation they provide for her hips. She circulates tirelessly in the swarming crowd of cruisers.
 

We will arrive at our first port of call by noon tomorrow, Christmas Eve Sunday. Plenty of time for breakfast and an informal worship service among like-minded friends before the ship disgorges her human cargo to ravage the shopping stalls ashore like a hoard of locusts.
 

The ship tracks ever southward, gently rocking in the swells of the Gulf of Mexico. A  cacophony of a half-dozen languages echoes through the dining lounge.
It is a Christmas to remember.