The skunks smells his own stink first

Sunday, April 22, 2007
It’s a beautiful sea day today—the sun is shining, the ocean is sparkling and the seas are fairly calm.

In the internet café, which sits just outside of the Galaxy of the Stars, one of the prime dance/entertainment areas, I sat next to a middle-aged man. He was sitting at the monitor, while his wife hovered over him. It seemed he was having trouble logging into his email, and his wife kept telling him he needed to log in to the internet. They were bickering a bit, but he kept being distracted by the music from the Galaxy of the Stars.

He: “Where is that music coming from? This thing is so slow…it must need to connect to the satellite”

She: “You have to log in first.”

He: “I’m already logged in, it’s just not taking my password. Oh! Where is that music coming from? I really like this song. (The band is playing the perennial favorite, “Hot Stuff” by Donna Summers). I could really dance to this song.”

I logged out, but he continued to wrestle with the SLOW internet and be distracted by the music and it’s origin.

On the way back to my room, I smelled another giant fart. I keep running into fart clouds this cruise, and I keep thinking it’s me.