Second Report From The Ship

[ring …ring. “Hello, this is your wake-up call.”]

Huh? Who asked you? Oh; I did, last night. 8:40, dining room closes at 9:00; get dressed fast, go to the opposite end of the ship and up three decks.

“Good morning, sir. Alone?” You bet alone. “Yes, table for one,” I mumble in the haze of morning. These guys are pretty chipper for this time of day; I wonder when they get up? Don’t tell me they are up at 6:00.

One person checks me in; another shows me to my table, pulls the chair out and places my napkin. So far, so good.
I could get used to this.

Waiter #1 brings water. Waiter #2 brings the menu. Waiter #3 brings coffee. Waiter #2 brings the apple juice. Waiter #4 brings the pastries. Waiter #3 refills the coffee. Waiter #1 tops off the water. Waiter #2 brings the pancakes. Supervisor asks if everything is alright. Waiter #4 asks if I would like another pastry.
I could get used to this.

I sit at my private table for one and read the New York Times ship edition. I catch the eye of waiter #3 and instantly he fills my coffee cup and waiter #1 rushes over to fill the water glass and asks if there is anything else.
Suddenly, I am used to this.

Now I think of the folks back home. But not for long.