It would be fun, my sorority sisters said. A cruise to nowhere. Departing Friday, cruising south toward the Carolinas, then turning around, returning Sunday. Partying. Food. Dancing. Fun. Money I didn’t really have, but why not. It was only a few hundred bucks in the late 80s. I was 21. Living at home with a hoarder mother. I had no idea what I was going to do with my life.

As we were led to our cabins, drunk and hungry wolf eyed men scanned us as prey. Their looks made me feel greasy. Why was I here? I asked myself.

“Hey baby, wanna do a line in my cabin?”

I shook my head and walked by.

My roommates got seasick once the ship hit the deep water. I could feel it, deep within my gut, the deep versus shallow. I loved how it felt, the ship being in the warm embrace of the Atlantic.

The buffet dinner was excellent. So much better than college food. A reporter stood in line along with us. She was sent to do a study about this exciting way to spend a weekend. I was thinking of going into journalism but I knew I didn’t have what it took to be a Brenda Starr.

We found out that a high school class was on board, celebrating their senior trip. We were pissed. We guessed it was cheaper than Disneyworld. There was no way these kids weren’t being served alcohol so that was a mess.

The dance party was crowded and hot. The drinks were paid for the whole trip so I spent our couple of days in a drunken haze. Alcohol tends to magnify one’s mood, so I became more introverted and spent the last several hours alone on deck, watching the waves, worrying about the future.

As I look back on it, the trip was a terrible waste of money. I spent the rest of the semester broke and depressed.

Cruises. I’m not a fan.