The following story is the
truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
F Wehlen
I certify under the laws of
Bismark, that the following is a true recollection of events of the 17th
of June aboard the Queen Mary’s eastbound crossing.
Thomas Wehlen
Last night was our last
formal night, but somehow the next table didn’t get the word. No matter: they
looked great-cocktail suit and coat and tie. It’s plenty.
I pulled out an old favorite
purchased under the watchful eye of KMH; a silver sequin number from the cheap
floor at Neiman’s. It isn’t high quality, but in the right light, it looks kind
of dazzly-cheap trick really.
Anyway my mother and I walk
in, and Thomas says Lester and his buddy say something like:
Wow!! There sure are a lot of
good-looking young ladies on this cruise!! We breeze by.
MMB takes up her post
surveying the crowd, where much to our chagrin amid repeated requests to stop,
she makes running commentary on everyone who enters the room.
Well SHE looks thinner in the
movies…!!!” OOOO there is that famous
director! I don’t really understand his movies; I prefer romance.. Oh!! look at
that woman from New York!! …Did you get a load of that diamond Star of David??
Then: OH where is Mrs. Lester going? Why do you
suppose she is leaving dinner early? Do
you think she is going to that movie? Ellie, where is Mrs. Lester going?!!
Mother, please; focus on your
shrimp sampler.
After about 30 minutes, Mrs.
Lester returns. Only this time she is wearing a gold sequin stunner. She waves
at us; my mother swoons. SHE changed!!! Well isn’t that interesting??!! Ellie
why do you think she changed??
We have pieced together the following
scenario: 87 year old “Cloudy” she insisted I call her by her first name; think
of a name that begins with “S” and means the opposite of Cloudy. So apparently
Cloudy was not going to take second place lying down. No little chicky in
silver sequins and a few pilates lessons was going to distract the men at her
table. No Siree. So she hoisted herself from her beef Wellington, grabbed her
walker, woke up her maid, and said
“Get up; we are going
nuclear.” Presumably the maid said…”but Mrs Lester..you can’t mean….”
“I mean exactly that: The
gold sequin dress from Lester’s 90th.”
Game over. What cards do I
have left to play? I’m out of dresses; I
can’t outspend her, my marriage is less than one third the length of hers; and
her son is the ambassador to a small European country while mine is still,
occasionally, picking his nose.
I waved my napkin in
surrender. She marched over and told my mother to take our picture. Mano a
Mano. Silver sequins vs gold.
Then she told her to take
another.
If there is one thing this Blog hopes to convey, it is this:
It ain’t over til it’s
over. Remember that ladies: Do not, I repeat do not, go quietly into the night.
We have a date every evening
with Thomas’ man crush: The dashing –if a bit creaky Englishman who is either
sneaking into the first class hot tub area, or owns half of England. You know
what they say: there is so little difference between the highest and the lowest
classes. (They both hate publicity, and they both swear a lot). Anyway, he
arrives on time in his Luctonians rugby hat and explains that he is basically
kicked out of the room while his wife gets “tarted up”. He has been married 50
years and as he says, sometime you have to just take it. His major
disappointment in Mrs Luctonia is that she is so un sporty. He took her for a
walk while they were dating, up some hill; and she passed the test; then got
him to the altar and basically hasn’t broken a sweat since. Sigh.
He seems to be on some sort
of crusade…he has written and delivered a letter to the captain regarding some
outrage neither Thomas nor I can seem to remember, even though he keeps telling
us. I mean, we want to be on his side (I call him Che Guevara) but when one is
in the first class hot tub overlooking the Atlantic with cocktail in hand, it
is so hard to get upset.
So there he stands, regaling
us with tales from his home town..something laughably English like
Hertfordshire upon Spooning Moor. He finds the drinks at the meet the Captain
evening ridiculous, a “tease” so he has to get two from each bartender, saying
one is for the wife, then pours them together. He has lots of stats: one woman
received flowers for spending 1500 days (not a typo) on one or another Cunard
ship. Another woman brilliantly figured out that for the same price as a retirement
home, she could live on the QE2. So she did…little old lady, living aboard til
she dropped dead, presumably in a flower arranging class.
We are due to reach Bishop’s
rock at 4: 30 this afternoon. This signals the end of the Great Circle Track,
and the beginning of the English Channel.
:(
I have pictures of
everyone..but will post tonight…xx
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