I'd bet there are ten, maybe fifteen passengers on this ship of 1,900 that are younger than Elenka and I. Early on I made a point to start asking my travel mates how many cruises they've taken and haven't come across anyone who has done less than eleven. Ron from our trivia team is on his 79th. Along with my questioning I've paid very close attention to the food plates of my mates. Heaping helpings are had by all; no one backs off when it comes to chow, yet most of these cruisers are in pretty good physical condition. Last night there was a special ten-thirty dessert extravaganza at the Atrium Bar (hardly anyone drinks alcohol, there just isn't time). I don't think anyone on the ship has less than three desserts for dinner, yet there we were, like half-naked barbarians, recklessly attacking the eclairs, ripping through cupcakes and drinking from the white and chocolate fountains as though there wouldn't be any breakfast.




Here's my theory: Evidence points to a secret society. After a certain number of cruises, passengers are approached by an agent of this covert group and asked if they wish to join. After initiation, members are taught the art of disgorging – simple in-out turnover. Why does this clandestine organization exist? I'm not there yet. It's only my second time on one of these things. Elenka has certain misgivings about my conspiracy theory, but we both agree that the investigation must continue.