Joe Lansdale - Captains Outrageous

“How long before dinner?”

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, then the itinerary. “Two hours. You hungry?”

“No. Not really. Anything else going on?”

“Shuffleboard will start shaking in about half an hour.”

“Want to go up on deck?”

“Sure, maybe we can swim back to land before we actually disembark.”

“There’s a thought.”

We locked our cabin, went up a flight of stairs, then another, and finally onto the deck. It was a pretty afternoon out, starting to gray some, but there was still plenty of light. Our ship had started to sail.

We leaned against the railing and watched the New Orleans dock retreat.

“Didn’t a ship run right into this dock once?” Leonard said.

“Yep,” I said. “Couldn’t stop.”

“In a hurry to get back to land, I figure.”

“Think it’s too late to swim for shore?”

“ ’Fraid so.”

We stood on the deck until the dock and New Orleans were out of sight and the brown water turned blue. Then there was no more dock or New Orleans visible, just the water and our ship pushing into the Gulf and the night coming down soft and the Gulf air sweet with the occasional bite of dead fish, and there was the Gulf itself, washing hard against the ship, washing us steadily with the assistance of a great engine, on out to the deeps.

We stood out there by the rail and talked and watched the night fall on the blue water, first making it purple, then black. The wash of it against the side of the ship was hypnotic, and once we got past our initial sensation of feeling like mice trapped in a tin can, we began to relax.

We finally went back to our room to wash up and brush our teeth and shave. It was just something to do. We were finishing up this when there was a singsong whistle on our cabin’s intercom. It was followed by a voice telling us all to meet on the deck to find out which was our lifeboat and to learn what to do in case the ship sank, other than drown.

We went out on the deck for our words of wisdom. Essentially, the wisdom was, the big boat started sinking, in an orderly fashion, you got in a smaller boat that was supposed to be lowered over the side of the larger sinking boat. That was about it.

A little later, back in our room, the whistle sounded again, this time with an invitation to all passengers to have dinner, and it ended with the words: “Bon appetit.”

We wandered outside and saw the cattle call moving in the direction of the dining room. According to our information, there were two dining rooms. One that served more formally, and presumably better food, and another that was a kind of buffet.

The menu that came with our cabin information said the meal in the main dining room was lobster this night, and we both wanted that.

When we got to the dining room, a fellow in a white coat, white pants, white shirt, and a black bow tie was kind enough to tell us we couldn’t come in without coats.

“Why not?” Leonard said.

The door usher, or whatever his title was, was a tall man with dark skin and dark hair with a bald spot at the crown. He looked about thirty and wore his uniform with all the grace of James Bond in a tux. He said, “It’s required.”

“What’s it required for?” Leonard said. “Are we gonna spread it on the ground and eat off of it?”

“Leonard,” I said, “let’s just go back to the room and get coats. It’s easy to solve.”

“You’ll need a tie as well,” said Mr. White Coat. Then, after a moment’s reflection: “There’s no use coming back without a tie.”

“What if I borrow yours?” Leonard said.

“We have security on board,” said the man, finally showing a bit of nervousness.

“It’s all right,” I said. “We’ll put on a coat and tie.”

I took Leonard by the elbow and turned him around. We started down the corridor, back to the cabin.

“Let’s eat in the buffet area,” I said. “They don’t require anything but that you don’t go naked.”

“You sayin’ we’re not good enough to eat in there?”

“No. They’re saying that. Leonard, everything is not personal. Them’s the rules. You’re one goes on about rules all the time, and those are the rules.”

“Yeah, but those are stupid rules. And since when am I one for the rules?”

“All that Republican shit,” I said.

“I just don’t think I ought to be made to wear a coat for a meal I paid for.”

“I paid for it.”

“Whatever. But it’s paid for. It didn’t say anything about a coat and tie in the brochure.”

“It said evening wear is suggested.”

“Ah ha! Suggested.”

We were back at the cabin. I unlocked the door and we went inside and sat on our beds across from one another.

“I’m hungry,” I said. “I want to eat. Where are we going to eat?”

“I want my lobster.”

“Then let’s put on coats and ties.”

“I didn’t bring a tie.”

“Now that you mention it, neither did I.”

We put on sports coats and went back. Leonard had the brochure with him. White Coat stopped us at the door. “I see you have coats, but you still need ties.”

“No, we don’t need them,” Leonard said.

White Coat said, “Those are the rules, sir. I did not make them up.”

Leonard showed him the brochure. A line was forming behind us. The man looked at the brochure. He said, “Yes.”

“It says coats and ties are suggested,” Leonard said. “You can suggest it, I can choose not to do it.”

“And you can choose to go to the buffet.”

“I paid – he paid – for us to go on this cruise. Let us in.”

A Filipino fellow in white shirt, black pants, and black bow tie came over. He asked what the problem was. White Coat told him.

“It’s suggested, Phileep, not required.”

White Coat grew red-faced.

“Thanks,” Leonard said, walked past White Coat and I followed. Leonard said to White Coat, “Dick cheese.”

I told the Filipino who was showing us to our table, “We’re not trying to be a pain-”

“No problem,” he cut in, leaning close to me. “He’s an officious little fuck. All the staff wishes he’d fall off the boat and get eaten by sharks.”

We wound our way between tables of mostly elderly people and were placed at a table with four other diners. Wine was served and menus were brought.

The Filipino was headwaiter on the cruise. His name was Ernesto. He was a short solid-looking guy with black hair well combed except for a sprig that was determined to hang down on his forehead.

Ernesto stood at the table and smiled and talked to us all about what specials were being offered. It was kind of cool really. They didn’t do that at Burger King. He leaned down and spoke to Leonard and Leonard, smiling big, talked back to him in a whisper. I caught the words “Thank you” in there somewhere.

Ernesto went away and our actual waiter came and took our choices and left. Ernesto showed up again three or four times. Talked to us all, talked to Leonard a little more. Just chitchat stuff. I finally got a line on it. He was gay and somehow knew Leonard was. What was it? A secret handshake? A mark in the middle of the forehead only gays could see?

When Ernesto finally went away and the food came, I leaned over to Leonard, said, “What would John think?”

“We’re just talking. He’s friendly.”

“Is he gay?”

“I think so.”

“You look pretty happy.”

“We queers just love to make contact. We have secret messages about the nature of the universe that we only pass along to one another. Sorry, Hap.”

We ate. The food was not as good as I had hoped, and the lobster was downright awful. I thought it might be a big boiled cockroach.