Ever been on a cruise? Please join us as we take our first for our 25th wedding anniversary.
We'll be traveling from Dallas to the port of Galveston Island, and for five fun-filled sunny days, sailing aboard the PriceLess cruise line ship, Celebration to beautiful Cozumel and Playa de Carman Mexico.
So sit back and relax.
Take that vacation you've been promising yourself.
Have a good time, after all, what could go wrong, except maybe forgetting your suntan lotion!
(And your sunglasses... the car breaking down... losing your credit card... not sleeping for 60 hours causing your mind to take a detour to parts unknown...)

Chapter 1

Mark Twain summed it best in his book, Following the Equator:
“The day begins. I do not know how a day could be more reposeful: no motion; a level sea; nothing in sight from horizon to horizon; the speed of the ship furnishes a cooling breeze; there is no mail to read and answer;
no newspapers to excite you; no telegrams to fret you or fright you—the world is far, far away;
it has ceased to exist for you—seemed a fading dream, along the first days; has dissolved to an unreality now;
it has gone from your mind with all its businesses and ambitions, its prosperities and disasters; its exultations and despairs, its joys and griefs and cares and worries.
They are no concern of yours anymore; they have gone out of your life; they are a storm which has passed and left a deep claim behind.
…If I had my way I would sail on forever and never go live on solid ground again."

"Get your motor running…"
Friday. We slept good, woke up at 8 a.m. ready to meet the day. Finished packing, lunch with my Mom, then pull eight long hours of work on night shift. Hopefully nothing bad will happen at my job causing me to work overtime.
Nothing does and I don’t.

"Headed down the highway…"
Bags in the car, checked/send e-mail, hug the dogs, and we’re off exactly at midnight. Right on schedule. Sandra and I figured we’d arrive at Galveston by 5:30 a.m., giving us enough time to find a hotel, get six hours sleep, and be fully refreshed for our boarding the ‘Celebration’ at 1:00 p.m.

"Looking for adventure, for whatever comes our way…"
I drove while Sandra, my bride of 25 years slept.
Nice thing about driving at night, no traffic or road construction.
Three hours later, I’m getting tired. And sleepy. The excitement and adrenaline is wearing off. I can’t find a station on the car’s radio, getting nothing but static. I’d read about a trick airline pilots and long haul truckers use to help them stay awake, tickle the back of the throat with the tongue. After five minutes it went to sleep followed closely by my eyelids.

Passed some signs “Hotel, Ten Miles.” Maybe we should we stop and get some sleep? NO! I tell myself, I want to get to Galveston, we’ll sleep there.

Five miles and ten more arguments with the sandman, up ahead I see “Hotel Ahead COMFORTABLE BEDS Trucker’s Welcome.” Not airline pilots? I ask. Five miles later, I hear a voice whisper, Are you sure you don’t want to stop and sleep? I answer firmly and loudly, “NO!”.
Suddenly Sandra woke. Refreshed, she wants to drive. I’m ready to let her. We exchange places. I drop the seat back and try to nap.
I can’t sleep.
We talk about events, other vacations taken, and special memories of our twenty-five years together.
An hour and a half later I fell into dream world. The last thing I remember seeing was a sign, HOUSTON 8.

“Welcome To My Nightmare”
Sandra woke me, “The engine, or something in the front of the car is making a strange sound.”
“What… where are we?”
“Just outside of Houston.”
My eyes try to focus, I can see the skyline.
I listen, hear the noise. "Sounds the radiator overflow container boiling over. I don't want to alarm Sandra, but my mind starts thinking of the worse possibilities, a hole in the radiator, maybe the water pump going out, or the oil pump...
We stop to check.
“Nope, not that...” I pull on hoses, smell for antifreeze, check the dipstick. Everything looked okay. “I...I don’t know what the noise is.”
Started the car engine, no noise. Put car in first gear, then second, third. As we sped up in fourth, the noise started again. Maybe it's the transmission?
I prayed we’d at least get to Galveston, 45 miles away. If we could make it that far, and if worse came to worst, we’d leave the car parked at the hotel, get some sleep, hire a cab, or maybe the hotel would have a shuttle, get to the ship, worry later. We’d be back Thursday and would have the car looked at then.
"Please, just get us to the dock!” hammered my thoughts turning them into 45 prayers as each mile clicked us closer.
We cross the bridge that connects the island. It's all down hill now. If the engine died we could coast to the pier. Maybe. “Thank You Lord!”
We began searching for a hotel.

(Having not sleep for 22 hours plays funny tricks with ones thinking.
Judgment and speech are effected too. I didn’t realize it, but logic and reasoning have abandoned my brain. They’ve decided to take a vacation without me.)

Chapter 2

We pulled into a hotel driveway. I go inside. The clerk is asleep at the desk. “Excuse me, I haven’t slept since 8 yesterday, we need a wake up call at 12.” I held out my credit card.
“Sorry sir,” the clerk sez rubbing his eyes, “There’s no rooms available. It’s Saturday. Everyone comes in from the mainland for the weekend. You might try ‘____’."
We tried ‘____’ and ‘_____ _____’ then ‘____’.
I explained to this latest clerk, “I haven’t slept since 8 yesterday. We need sleep desperately, just a few hours…” I was digging in my billfold trying to find the credit card, it's not there, did I leave back at the last place? Maybe the first one? I couldn’t remember.

“Sorry, we’re booked up but may have one available at 11. Would you like to check back?”

We tried twelve others after retracing the drive and visits to the first, second, and third hotels looking for the missing credit card. Didn’t find it, or a room.

We decided to get some breakfast, maybe some time out of the car would help. While Sandra was in the restroom, I almost fall asleep face down in my sunny side up eggs.

We tried another hotel. Booked up. I look over at its pool, “Maybe they’d let us sleep there? We can ask.” I go back in, “Two single lawn chairs by the pool please, no smoking, give us a wake up call at 12, thank you very much.”

She looks at me, the expression on her face is odd, “Ahh… Sorry sir, but no."
"We NEED SLEEP-"
"It’s against company policy!”
“PLEASE," I beg, "WE’LL PAY!”
“NO!”
“BUT-”
She grabs a portable radio, “SECURITY, FRONT DESK A.S.A.P.!”

As I exit the door, I see my reflection in the mirror door. I haven’t shaved since yesterday, little bits of egg clings in my mustache. My eyes are bloodshot, clothes wrinkled. I notice I smell like last weeks dirty socks. All these add up to the description of someone living not at the beach, but on it.

Frustrated I gave up looking for a hotel and decided we’d be more productive time-wise having the car looked at.

An hour later, we were still trying to find a repair shop. The ones we found were ‘Closed Saturday and Sunday’. Maybe all the car mechanics leave the island for the mainland?
Drove around, stopped at a convenience store, asked “Doesn’t anybody work on weekends? On cars, I mean.”

“Down two streets,” he points, “make a right going North, up five blocks, make a right, pass a railroad track, go three blocks, go under the highway. Four lights down, on the right.”

I drive two blocks and forget the rest of the directions.

While driving, we see a Firerock Car Repair Center, but is it open? It’s open. The service manager asks “Having trouble?”
If only he knew.

I begin rambling some words into phrases that make perfect sense to me.
I think I told him "We're from out of town, drove the whole way from near Dallas, I was asleep when our car started making a strange sound outside of Houston and we need sleep while our dogs back home are enjoying theirs. We’re suppose to board our ship, well it’s not our ship, but PriceLess’s, for five days to Mexico, on the-what’s the name of the ship? I…I can’t remember… but it doesn’t take five days to get there, just one, and we can’t find a hotel. Here, in Galveston I mean, not Mexico."
I’m so tired I can’t even talk with my hands anymore.
"We have to be on board no later than 3:30 or the ship sails, then we’d have plenty of time to have the car repaired but we don’t won’t that, staying here to have the car repaired I mean. We’d rather be on the ship, going to Mexico. But yes, I want the car repaired, either now or when we get back Thursday from Mexico if we make it to the ship to go to Mexico, and we’ll be right back. Thursday.”

Reasoning visits me briefly to check in on me, I pause and take a breath. “Excuse me, I haven’t had any sleep since 8 yesterday morning.” I look at my watch, it’s eleven-nineteen. I can’t calculate how long it’s been since I slept last.

The service manager scratched his head and said, “Have a seat, I’ll get back to you. Your key please?”

We waited an hour for them to look at the car. Sandra napped in the car. In the waiting room I stared at the brewing coffee pot wishing it would hurry up, then began wondering if I should have a cup or not. With my mind hitting on just five cylinders, a caffeine rush right now may not be a good idea. I tried to nap on the waiting area couch but couldn’t get comfortable. My legs would wake me telling me how well they were sleeping.

“Mr. Speegle,” the ships Captain dressed in his snow white starched uniform was calling out to me from over the deck railing, “I’m sorry we have to leave now. We can’t wait any longer!”

“MR. SPEEGLE!”

I jerked up looking around. The captain left, the service manager took his place.

“Bad news. The right CV joint needs replacing. Time guestimating to get the parts from the warehouse, if they have ‘em in stock, and installed, two hours.”

IF they have them? TWO HOURS? Have the car repaired today, or wait until Thursday? Was the dream a sign of warning, or just a daytime nightmare? A tough decision to call. Get it done now and we won’t have to worry about it later versus the thought what if they can’t get it finished in time and risk missing the boat.

“Two hours for sure?” I ask.
“Give or take ten minutes,” he assured me.

While waiting to have the car fixed, Sandra sees a pet store next door. Animal lover that she is, we visit it.
We watch the husband and wife owners hand feed newly born Cockatoos with something that looks like regurgitated a la' worm. The lady owner does her best to sell us some birds but stop when I tell her, or I think I tell her what I think I told the people at the car repair center. The male species pet store owner looks at his watch and says “Two hours huh?”

I look out the shop's window. Across the street I see a banner over a restaurant, “Live Broiled Shrimp.” I wondered how they survive the cooking. I start giggling uncontrollably and muttering the phrase out loud. Over and over. I drift over to the shop’s aquarium, take a look the fish and begin laughing hysterically.

The kind natured male pet shop owner tells me, “Your car might be ready if you want to go check.” His eyes shift from me to the other customers.
“Two hours? Already?” I look at my watch, its face is blurred. I hold it up to him, “See what time it is?” Before he can answer, “Time to get another watch,” I laugh, “It’s not working.”
“It’s 1:00” he says.

At 1:08 we’re on our way. I’m exhausted, but get my second wind after seeing the stack of our ship peeking above the terminal.
Planning the trip, I’d researched the statistics of the ‘Celebration’, but at the moment couldn’t remember:

733’ x 92’ x 8 decks, cruise speed 21 knots, guest capacity 1,486, staff 670, 3 pools-2 for adults, 1 for children, 2 hot tubs, 2 main dining rooms, several bistros that served meals if you don’t to dress ‘elegantly casual’ in the main one, a 24 hour pizzeria, 24 hour room service, casinos, spa/gym, theater with live entertainment, plus 24 hour in-room movies. A floating city.

We drive up to a line of waiting cars where porters help unload baggage. We’re handed a paper that says “Important Information Please Read Immediately!” The print gets smaller but I think it’s notifying us to make sure we haven’t packed our tickets and necessary paper work (Proof of Citizenship) in the luggage about to be taken by the porter to the ship.

Sandra will carry a packed bag with our paperwork/cameras/extra set of clothing just in case we don’t see our baggage for a while.

The porter instructs me to drive to the Port of Galveston fenced parking lot, “Just down street.”
Here we go again…

“That street?” I ask.
“Yes sir.”
“No turns, bridges, stop lights?”
“Make a right, go straight. Can’t miss it.”
Wanna bet!

I find it. The attendant holds out his hand, “$40.”
“What?! I paid already, we have tickets-”
“The parking lot is owned by the city, not the cruiseline,” he explains.

I pay. I park. A bus will shuttle us back to the wharf, and without charging extra. What a bargain! I’m sarcastic in my thoughts because of lack of sleep, but relieved the ordeal is finally over. Or so I thought.

While waiting for the bus to load with more passengers, I pass out.

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