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The Bang Bang Theories

Like Prison, Only With Champagne.

- Trixie Bang Bang

My floral-printed tourist and I are home. 

I only cried twice on vacation.  And I discovered that I have a tich of clausterphobia. Both crying games were in and because of our teensy-tiny interior stateroom cruise ship room. 

I wanted to be able to un-hoity myself and travel without pretenses. But the tears, they betrayed my good intentions. 

The first tears came as I tried to make peace with the size and lack of window/fresh air in our room. 

My Mister filmed that little breakdown, all the while patting me and telling me “there there.”  And then I got the blubbering under control and told myself it would all be okay, and then I felt the walls closing in on me and started crying again. Ugly crying, Reader, not just a few simple tears. 

The room was pretty small. Bed against the wall, only one way out – over the other person. Here it is from the doorway…which really photographs larger than it appeared in real life, once two bodies were inserted into that picture. 




We never did figure out what the cloth bumper pad thingies on the wall were for, other than we stuck our clothes on it. There was one on the other side of the bed, too, which made me feel like I was in a bumper-padded crib. 

I actually was forced to unpack, and hang my clothes up so the suitcase could slide under the bed. 

The dresser area was too small to even be functional, and they kept sending food and champagne to our room which took up the little space there was. Yeah, I know, my hardship was figuring out what to do with all the chocolate covered strawberries and champagne…..


The bathroom was so small, you could brush your teeth, shower and stick your leg out to rest on the toilet while shaving it. Drying off involved stepping into the cabin. Couldn’t wash my feet in the shower, no bending room. 


So yeah, small. Tear-worthy, apparently. 


I guess I am hoity.  We slept. A lot. A whole lot. Because we couldn’t tell if it was day or night once we went to bed, so we just kept sleeping and sleeping. 


But occasionally we did get up and step outside. And saw this:



Which we liked and made me happy. 

I would not do well in prison. At all. Nope. Although I pretended I was locked up and doing some hard time, and then we played conjugal visits so it wasn’t totally without merit. 

The end. 

2 thoughts on “Like Prison, Only With Champagne.”

  1. I was pretty worried about what I was going to do with that giant blue monstrosity, but luckily it slid under the bed – or it would have had to get a cabin of it's own. For 2013, I shall get a smaller suitcase and mission to be a smaller packer!

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