Surf and Turf

The Royal Caribbean’s Independence of the Seas rose some fourteen stories above the port.  Obscenely massive, it looked very much like an unsolved fraction, twelve over two; the Dolly Parton of the Seas, if you will, moments from simply toppling over from the imbalance and becoming our era’s Titanic.  But alas, my suspicion was more a reflection of nautical ignorance than keen insight. 

Royal Caribean Independence of the Seas 

I am a golfer and golfers are simply not ship-type people (groans of anger and anguish are now rising up from those few, radical fringe golfers that have somehow found the balance between the contradictory elements of surf and turf, but trust me, for the vast majority of golfers, it is one or the other).  I’ve spent my entire career working in and around the game, so water to me is something to be avoided at all costs.  Therefore, the carry over the hazard from the coast of south Florida to the shores of northern Belize and Cozumel, Mexico would require technology that would send the USGA rules committee into special session.

I don’t know if I’ve ever taken a vacation where golf was not a primary component.  The thought of spending a week with my wife and two boys lounging pool side or frolicking in the sandy beaches and turquoise blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico was a grand departure indeed.  What’s more, with my milky Irish skin tone, if not for the obligatory (read:  typical tourist) tropical themed swim trunks, then in the brilliant Mexican sun and white sand, I feared I might just be completely translucent.  I was prepared for this potentiality however, by picking up sun screen featuring a formidable SPF 70!  Can you imagine that, SPF 70?  I guess that is a beach equivalent to wearing a Hazmat suit.

Surfing on the Wave Pool

The first two days on the ship made me nearly forget that which cannot be forgotten, as the thoughts of a week in the tropics sans the game of golf faded away as surely as the U.S. coastline in our wake.  Like every other passenger on the ship, on our first visit to the buffet, we attacked the buffet as though it would be the only meal they would serve us all week.  We soon learned to temper our gluttony as getting enough food is absolutely the last line item of concern on a cruise ship.  Between the ship’s multiple pools, rock climbing wall, surfing wave-pool, running track, ice skating rink (that’s right) and state of the art gymnasium, one could find plenty of ways to burn off excess energy and have fun.  If more sedate engagements are more your fancy, then the ship’s library, casino, nightclubs and discos, themed bars and restaurants and Vegas-style stage shows offered ample opportunity to be entertained.  Because we were traveling as a family, we chose a stateroom with a balcony.  While spacious by ship standards, the four of us seemed to quickly consume the available space, so we had to lay down some ground rules for the benefit of our collective comfort (such as the classic rule of ‘not throwing your dirty cloths wherever you please’).  Both due to the basic rules of consideration for others and perhaps more so because we actually spent so little time in the room, from that point on, the room was more than big enough.

From main deck, looking back (and up) at the
Gymnasium Exterior

The huge interior Mall

As impressive as the ship was, perhaps the element that left the greatest impression upon us was the huge mall that dominated the center of the ship.  If not for the subtle and ever so gentle ocean sway (which was rarely perceptible), one might think they had stumbled upon a high rent district of jewelry, ice cream, pizza and sports clothing stores.  I found a British themed pub, called The Dog and Badger, that served all of my favorites, including Guinness, Boddington’s and generous pours of Macallan’s Single Malt Whiskey (especially if you caught the pour on the downside of a swale).

Mall observation room and lifts (L), and the main Dining Room

The Kids' Pool

Matt Adams in front of the ancient Tulum Mayan Ruins and the beautiful beach we
had to ourselves, near Cozumel, Mexico

During our time spent on the open waters, heading back to Florida, I have to admit that my separation from golf had finally overcome me.  Thankfully, technology came to my aid.  The ship featured a large video arcade and tucked away in a corner was a video golf game!  Feeling lifted, I challenged my wife to a match (she had never played a video golf game before).  Through nine holes, I stood boldly at one under par, to my wife’s three over par effort.  However, perhaps the pressure from the magnitude of the occasion began to seep into my consciousness for my commanding lead would disappear on the back side.  One hole featured a huge monument right in the middle of the fairway (who designed this video golf course, Pete Dye?) that sent my perfect virtual drive into a hi-tech abyss.  Seizing upon the occasion like a tiger on a gazelle, my wife somehow avoided the monument, birdied the hole and nursed a one stroke lead to the 18^th tee.  She would play the 18^th with heartless, calculating precision, seemingly unconcerned over the egotistical damage she was about to inflict, as she hit a perfect drive, followed up by an efficient seven iron that settled some 25 feet from the hole.  Pressure firmly applied, my video golfer rallied to the calling, hitting a good drive and settling a laser-like eight iron only two feet from the cup.  Remarkably, a nine-year-old boy had taken to watch our match rather than blast away at aliens and zombies with virtual laser guns and as my shot settled near the hole he let out a yell of support, something akin to the classic, “Get in the hole!”  Stage set, with the gallery grasping the enormity of the occasion, every screaming video game seemed to come to a reverential hush as my wife’s birdie putt raced toward its fate.  Perhaps her dagger hit a digital spike mark, for it veered off line at the last second, settling into tap in range, which she converted for par.  Palms sweating, thoughts racing ahead to the consequences, I tried to calm my breathing and cover the two and a half digital feet with a smooth stroke.  Instead, I stabbed at the putt in a digital yip that somehow found the left edge of the cup and saved me from the unthinkable.  I gave my wife a hug and tried to sound good-natured as I said, “Well, we finished tied, we’ll have to have a play-off sometime,” (knowing I would never again take the risk). 

After getting my (digital) golf fix, I staggered back to The Dog and Badger to take in all we had seen and done over this last week.   

Room view, returning to port

Taking a cruise was for me, a land-loving golfer, a leap of faith.  However, as life so often demonstrates, sometimes our most fulfilling leaps are the ones we feel we are least likely to make.