It was a wonderful trip. No one lost any luggage, no one got Legionaires disease, no one barked a shin. I'd go again in a minute.
Kris, "Airports make me damp."
Jon, "I like trains."
Fine art, Texas motel style. This was hanging in the 'Quality Inn' we stayed at the first night in Humble, just outside of Houston. The place looks to have been built during the Johnson administration, like about half the rest of the Texas. This place was truly scary. Towser shall be tied tonight.
Motel Hell.
First view of the sturdy craft.
The cruise was originally scheduled to leave from New Orleans, but was diverted to beautiful industrial Galveston because of hurricane Katrina.
The sea lane out. How will they fit the buffet through that?
I don't know who took this picture. There was talk of bad shellfish. If you look over my right shoulder, you can clearly detect the presence a large silver crow.
That's me, standing next to Gopher on the Lido deck.
K and my brother Mark and his GPS doodad.
I knew it was an outside chance, but if I could keep the ants in line, we might just reach Camp Moresby before dawn...
Parents Jerry and Lois tuck in.
K adjusting her harness.
J and K enjoying life on the high seas.
The Atrium. No deviant behavior in these elevators.
One of many lounging about areas.
The casino. Are statues of Romans synonymous with losing all your money?
Pool area. When it came to entertainment, there was little to match Eric and his dancing cucumber.
Basketball court. Alone in his moment of rapture, Ralph returned once again to contemplation of the gourd.
Hot tubs. Hubert gazed in awe at the morsel.
Kiddie pool.
Kiddie bar.
Yes, they were playing Nearer My God To Thee.
Sunset #1
San Miguel, Cozumel Mexico, after hurricane Wilma. This is what's left of the concrete steel reinforced wharf after the storm sat over Cozumel for almost 48 hours.
We took a bus tour to the other side of the island. This shoe is representative of the garbage and trash and debris that littered the beach. You couldn't see any sand for the chunks of corral that due to the fury of the hurricane had been uprooted and deposited on the beach. We didn't snorkel, but the report was the the reef is trashed, along with most of the rest of the island.
This is Patricio, our Cozumel tour guide. He is Mestizo, which is a mix of several different races. He is crunchy and tastes good with ketchup.
This was reportedly the oldest structure left 'standing' on the island, the original Catholic church left over from the Spanish plunder of the island in the 1500's.
Yo mama
The Mayans had a way with art. This was a marijuana pipe. Cheeky monkeys.
Pure uncut Mexican Coke.
A radio tower that had been knocked down.
The structure on the right had been a hotel. The hurricane pushed everything out, leaving just the internal framework. Erie.
This is all that was left of the driveup to the lobby.
Scooters everywhere. Every street had lines of the things. It was raining.
And raining.
Floating petit-four. This was one of the tender boats shuttling people back and forth to shore. I first saw it from a great distance and thought the dessert bar had exploded.
"Buffet, ho!"
Enter here.
Friendly attendants will reveal to you the shortcut to la Fiesta de' Porridge.
Buffet ho.
It was like this three or four times a day. I now have a solid 5 pounds of fat that I didn't have prior to sailing. There was a gym on board that I actually made it to 3 times. The breakfast buffet was right on the way back to the room. So it goes.
Sort of a funny story here. The cabin steward left a mint on your pillow every night. If you got busy with other activities and forgot the mint...well you woke up in the morning wondering what the heck was going on, going to the mirror to find the bleeding cancerous sore that you'd managed to miss until it was too late and you may as well throw yourself over the railing instead of being a burden on your loved ones. Or, you'd just crapped the bed. Either way, finding out it was just a mint was a bit of a relief.
Chocolate buffet. I'd like to sleep on that.
Chocolate for dinner. Nice.
Taking a snifter with Brigadier Trentworth proved to be a daunting experience.
K and Mark's wife Lisa practice a local favorite, the sitdown Macarena.
Some people you don't know tendering into Belize city.
Sometimes I feel so cheap.
Belize city.
Invest in Malden, my ass.
Flower envy.
The entrance to the Mayan ruins at Altun Ha.
Our very knowledgeable tour guide Randy. Native Belizian, he knew everything from the mean income of the average Belizian (about $120 US a month) to the name of the wacked out Rasta that shadowed our tour group all through the ruins.
The tension at No. 83 had been almost unbearable ever since Eric had deliberately swallowed Toby's anorak.
The Mayans didn't use hand rails! The only reason you even climbed up here was to have your heart cut out. Gosh!
Kinda lumpy, needs more basalt.
No, not in Kansas anymore.
The Belizians build their houses in stages. They were probably 5 years into this one, with another 10 to go. No doubt anticipating the golf course that will be built when capitalist Gringo investors catch on. Yes, that is a UFO in the upper part of the shot. The Aliens have been living there peacefully like Indians since 1949.
That's a cemetary in the background. The white wall is a crypt.
This is an extremely rare Belizian Lip Cat. No kidding.
Bye bye Belize. Snif.
It took me 4 days to figure out how to get back to my room. We were in 0228. Looking at this picture, I'm still confused. That's starboard, or right. I think.
Sunset #2
Ship parts.
Luckily, the industrial-strength earplugs I had purchased in Tucson were holding up well against the onslaught.
Coxen Hole, Roatan, Honduras. Mere words are wasted in trying describe the beauty of this paradise.
This is Jerry and our temporary tour guide, Edwin. He escorted us to his aunts gift shop where we stocked up on Cokes again. There were quite a few of these ambitious youngsters about. Not one of them ever offered me his sister.
A fine example of the common Honduran Happy Dog.
Ok.
I am about to be sheep worried.
Shakedown Street.
Bonehead in paradise.
Duck On Bike with his new friends, Lump Of Corral, Mahogany Souvenir Box, and Folded Towel With Mint Eyes Rabbit. Sweet!
Sunset #4
Affecting Australian accent, "This is Simon, your ambiguously gay cruise director."
Nautical nonsense.
This is part of the crew and entertainers. They came out on the last night and sang a little song complete with swaying hands. I was hoping they'd do Kumbaya. The girl in the red dress was a member of the Jean-Ann Ryan Dance Company, who performed on several nights. She could sing AND dance. The captain is the guy in the middle front row leaning forward looking at the girl in the red dress. Hmmm. It's good to be the captain. The first night, they performed a presentation of 'Encore! Mr. Producer' Broadway show tunes, very popular and well attended by the male members of the Rainbow Travel Club D/FW Chapter. They also did a 'Cirque-Pan' production which involved a lot of hopping around and hanging from ropes to a well sung sountrack of Peter Pan related songs. The last performance was a Latin theme 'Que Noche.' Those Latins are a hot blooded people. Other performers were the comedian Ted Holum, the Blackstreet Boys Alfred and Seymour (some break-dancing and good natured joshing about white people), and the singer Jane L. Powell. Oooo, she was good. A lot of blues and soul. Not many of the Rainbow gang at that show.
Happy meal.
Sunset #5
There was an art auction on board. K won a cerograph of something called San Tropez in the raffle. I didn't get a photo of it nor do I know the artist. The auctioneer said it was worth a $1000. They are going to put a new frame on it and ship it to us. I'll hang it next to Dogs Playing Poker. This photo is of an original Peter Max that was going for about $50,000.
Our little room.
Our equally diminutive bathroom and shower.
Back to Galveston. This is a fuel bunker barge which was pulled alongside the ship to refuel. The ship uses a lot fuel. The one figure I remember is one gallon of diesel to move the boat forward 9 feet. I drive a Toyota.
Sunrise.
Moron rise.
Waiting for our debarkation number to be called. 'Debark,' a wonderfully woody word, but a sad process.
Waiting. Waiting. This is Jerry with the Boones, who were our travel agents/cruise experts.
The foot of K. She won't let me play with it. Maybe if I offer her a few more coconuts.
They don't waste anytime in restocking the ship. There's about a 6 hour turnaround before the next embarkation. Another woody word. "Embark me now, you savage monkey," screamed Claire to Roger, who being slow often had trouble manipulating her harness.
Rainbow Travel Club D/FW Chapter. Waitin' for the bus.
Houston! Oh shutup, it's only a model!
Sunset #6, as seen from 36,000 feet.
Apologies for ripping off the Glen Baxter captions.
Up the ridge and the No 1 chair.
More of the same.
Boise, Idaho as seen from the top of the No 1 chair and Deer Point. Note clean air.
Dead pine snag at the top of Deer Point. Scenic, oh yes. 
Knuckle draggers in repose.
Another disturbing trend on the mountain, perfectly healthy adults using small children as 'mules.' Oh, the humanity.
The backside of Shaefer Butte and the No 6 chair, as seen from the top of Second Chance.
The top of the No 6 chair.
The Lonsome Pine. Que up from the left. If you shake it more than twice, you're having fun.
Ladies room. Mind the badger.
Looking out toward the Grimes Creek/Idaho City area. Where men are men and sheep are afraid.
Life on Cloud 8.
Like a pie cooling on a window sill.
Mores Creek Summit, as seen from halfway down Paradise.
What I had suspected all along.
Rush hour, Wednesday morning, bottom of Chair 6. In the middle of the week, there are no lines. You, in California, I said no lines.
Deer Point, as seen from cat track at the top of Shaefer Butte.
Scenic trash.
Coming up on the bra and panty tree at the top of Chair No 3. Every ski area has its bra and panty tree. You can't ignore tradition. The old bra and panty tree used to sit about 2/3 of the way up Chair 6. They cut it down several years ago. Rumor has it that it had become fetid and diseased. Anyway, this is the new bra and panty tree.
Bras. And panties. Land sakes.
"Start again."
