Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Little Pirate

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Captain Imperfecto and Nico headed on a cruise 



October 7, 2014

I took my six-year old son, Nico, on a cruise and his behavior wasn’t that bad, despite all the excitement happening around him. Not to mention his conduct was my main fear and trepidation with taking my young child on this cruise. I’ll have to admit, as you can read so far in this first paragraph, I was expecting Armageddon when I unleashed my son on that Carnival cruise ship. And that havoc I thought would begin as soon as we got of that charter bus we took to travel, the 70 miles, from our house, to the Port of Miami.

 I had nightmares in the months since booking this trip Nico, somehow would make his way towards the control room by battling the crew as they try in vain to thwart his mutiny. Only to lose to his cunning, manipulative, six-year old ways and he would commandeer the ship!

“C’ap’n, t' a little pirate has taken t' twelve deck and be forcin' his way into quarters!"

“Begad, ye bilge-sucking, swines! Hold that scallywag aft you yellow belles. It’s only a lad!”

I wouldn’t put that thought past my son and his cunning abilities. That also goes for my other son Christopher for that matter. But he wasn’t going on this excursion. The stomach flu had his number.

[Alarms going off inside the bridge of the giant ship.]

“C’ap’n, shiver me timbers! Ye, have a problem!” the first mate yells.

“What is it man? Terrorists? Rouge wave?”

“No worse, c’ap’n! It’s a six year old buccaneer and he’s taken the helm of the ship and the keel is aimed right at iceberg!”

[Back to reality]

Are there icebergs in the Caribbean? Well it doesn’t matter my mind is running rampant with all types of thoughts of mischievous deeds he could be a apart of. But hey, that scenario could’ve happened. If you know my boys.

A friend of mine was getting married so naturally I thought I would take a child. I wanted to take both my sons but, on a ship with low railing, and nothing but blue sea on either side, I didn’t want to be placed into the situation of choosing who to go after first in the event one should go overboard.

“Sir,” the security officer said, “your son went into the sea.”

“Which one?”

“Both”

I couldn’t risk such a travesty so I settled for the oldest. I suppose there are perks to being the oldest son.

We entered the area where the passengers prepare to embark on their cruise. It was a large entry, much like an airline concourse. Once inside the steel, and large windowpane, framed, hanger those large clear glass windows gave all who entered an unobstructed view of the large steel, painted white, ship.

Amazing how something so large wasn’t even trying to sink. My son and I pushed our faces against the glass in an attempt to look down at the large rope lines that moored this enormous 900-foot ship. I can only imagine the amount of concrete the construction contractor had to pour in order to hold the 70,000-ton behemoth from straying away.

“Come on, dad lets go. Lets get on that boat!” my son exclaimed.

“We have to check-in before we board, Nico,” I said.

I looked over at the line of passengers waiting for their turn and I knew I was in for some heavy negotiating with my son in order to keep him calm in attempt to taper his excitement. That boy wanted to board that ship. And he wanted to board it now.

The line of eager people, who they themselves were smiling and laughing, as their own excitement exuded from them, moved steady. But Nico and I were still a little ways back from actually entering onto the gangway. Nico was unable to standstill for a long period of time, so he kept himself busy by running around the line divider stanchions and knocking off the straps that separated the zigzagging people. The stanchions weaved the people into a nice tight package instead of the line forming into a very long conga line.

With every flick of the strap, the retractable line would hiss, as it wound back in the farthest away stanchion winding mechanism, where it would tuck itself away. The plastic end of the nylon seatbelt type strap would clank on the sides of the stanchions giving fair warning to people to move out of the way. 

The strap acted like a whip, and as it slung itself backwards, people standing behind it, would run for cover to avoid being struck. I would look back at the person standing behind me and cordially ask them, “Do you mind holding my place? I’m going to make my son walk the plank.”

“Nico,” I said as I rushed towards him, “stop. Stop. Stop.” I demanded.

Nico was laughing and running away from me as fast as he could in order to avoid getting caught. All the while he was slinging all the nylon stanchion straps and giggling. We weren’t even on the ship yet and here I was chasing after my Moby Dick.

I wasn’t planning on a fishing expedition but it seems like this adventure was finding me. I couldn’t catch this fish on the mainland. What could I expect at sea? Well I have no choice because for the next three days it’s just this little pirate and me.

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