Last night (this morning) around 1:15 am, I left the crew bar after enjoying a couple of drinks with friends, happily ready to go to bed.
A bartender, Danny, and a singer, Mallorie, told me we should go see what else is happening, maybe in a nameless-for-their-sake room notorious for after parties. Nothing happening there.
We had noticed, as the crew bar closed, that the Superbowl was starting, and we'd watched Billy Joel sing the national anthem on the crew bar TV to much jeering and heckling. The ship had only been able to get the Superbowl through a difficult satellite link with a Mexican ESPN simulcast.
I remembered that there was a pajama Superbowl party in the conference room upstairs, where they would show the game. We decided that with our clientele, no one would be up this late... we could sneak in and watch the game, we could get some drinks from our cabins, make some popcorn, have a great time.
We wandered our way up the conference room and found a semi-packed room and a spread of beers, chicken wings, and pizza waiting for us... a big machine full of popcorn and a giant screen projection of the game.
At one point I looked over at our stage manager, Chris, with Phil, and Mal, and said "It's 2:30 in the morning and we are watching the Super Bowl in the Indian Ocean, off the coast of Africa."
By 3:30, Prince had finished the halftime show, I was dead tired and needed to go to bed. I almost slept in my coat and tie.
Grolsch. A Super Bowl party hosted by officers, chefs, and bar staff from countries that could care less about American football. Silver buffet serving dishes of gourmet chicken wings and tiny slices of pizza... only one element was missing to make the surprising greatness of last night completely ideal, and that something is somewhere between Australia and New Zealand at this particular moment.
No pics of anything from last night, but maybe some guests have some I can lay hands on.
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