Chelsea Handler - My Horizontal Life - A Collection of One-Night Stands

It was a quarter to seven as we walked outside to the Yellow Deck and walked a lap. Dumb Dumb suggested we run back to the room to get ready. "Get ready for what?" I asked her.

We headed to our assigned table in the dining room and saw three women in their midforties sitting there. "Great. Look at our table," I told her.

We sat down with the ladies at our round table, leaving us with five empty seats. "Hello, ladies," Dumb Dumb said and started the introductions. They were very sweet, prim and proper ladies who were clearly from some town with no television or magazines. "We're from Nebraska," one of the women said, which happened to be one of the states I suspected. The only surprise was that anyone would actually fly in for this cruise. They giggled devilishly as they told us they were on a "girls only" trip away from their husbands. I could tell the raciest things these women had ever been involved in was a co-ed game of Connect Four.

After about a minute of small talk, the skinny, dark-haired woman with the palest skin I'd ever seen asked, "Are you Christians?"

"Yes, I am Christian," said Dumb Dumb.

"Oh, how lovely," they said. "So nice to meet you." The women immediately warmed.

"No, you're not a Christian," I told Dumb Dumb. "You're Presbyterian. That's very different." This was so typical of Dumb Dumb. She didn't know anything about herself.

"Well, whatever," Dumb Dumb said. "I believe in Jesus Christ."

This is exactly why I didn't want to go on vacation with her. She had no loyalty. She was as bad as my sister Sloane. I didn't want to be the only nonbeliever at the table. Luckily, I was drunk enough to defend myself.

"I'm a Jew," I told them and ordered a double Ketel One and cranberry. Certainly the "formal" dining room served real vodka, I thought.

"That's nice," one of the women replied.

And just like that, as if I hadn't said anything at all, the ladies sprang into a conversation about the sinful nature the Jews possessed when killing their Lord Jesus. I didn't know if I was hearing this right because I had become so intoxicated, but I couldn't believe that anyone would talk about religion while on vacation. How could Miss Nebraska think this was a proper environment to discuss something so controversial? One woman went on to say that if she had her way, not only would President Bush serve a second four-year term, but she hoped they would overturn Roe v. Wade. This woman was obviously a menace to society and needed to be stopped.

"Excuse me," I interrupted, "I have a question. Is it okay to drink while you're pregnant…?/ you're planning on giving the baby up for adoption?" This time Dumb Dumb didn't follow me outside.

There were four Mexican guys hanging around on the Lido Deck. I will refer to them as "cholos" only because one of them was wearing a hat that said, "CHOLO."

"What's up, homeys?" I asked as I slid down in a chaise longue next to them. They were smoking pot out of something that looked like a cigar. "Is that a spliff?" I asked.

"Yes, mija, would you like to take a puff?" I had learned my lesson the hard way about laced marijuana and was too drunk to smoke marijuana that wasn't laced.

"No thanks, homey. You guys heading back to Mexico?"

One of the guys came over. "My name is Rico," he said. He wore white volleyball socks up to his knees with cutoff tan Dickies and a thick black belt. A white wife-beater tank top completed his outfit. His head was shaved, but he had a bushy mustache.

As Rico sat down next to me, I leaned over and violently threw up. His three friends backed away in disgust. I felt embarrassed but I couldn't stop heaving. I vaguely remember the three guys saying something about leaving, but Rico opted to stay by my side and hold my hair.

He finally moved me to where I could throw up over the balcony, and I spent the next four hours doing just that. I couldn't move an inch and he understood completely. At one point he took a rubber band out of his pocket and put my hair in a ponytail. This guy was turning out to be very dependable. Without him, there was a good chance I would've fallen overboard. He looked through my pockets to find my key, and around midnight, he said it was time for him to take me to my cabin.

"I'll sleep here, just leave me alone," I cried.

"No, mij a, you cannot sleep here. You will freeze like a turkey."

It was pretty cold, but I doubt I would have frozen, and I wished he hadn't brought up Thanksgiving.

After another hour I agreed to let him carry me back to my cabin, which was not an easy route to negotiate considering the narrowness of the hallways. People glared at us as he strode inside with me in his arms like a scene out of The English Patient and asked if everything was okay. I tried to answer them but could only slur.

As he opened the door to our room, Dumb Dumb flew to her feet in her Shrek pajamas and screamed, "Oh, my God, are you okay?" Then, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Calm down, mij a, I am just delivering your friend," Rico said.

"Get out," she screamed. "Heeeeeelp!"

"Yo, yo yo, chill lady, chill," he said and then turned around to leave as she picked up a shoe and hurled it in his direction.

"Thanks," I slurred as I heard the door shut. I climbed into the lower bunk bed. "Shut up, he took care of me," I told Dumb Dumb as I passed out.

When I woke up the next morning, feeling five pounds lighter, I informed Dumb Dumb that we needed to get off the ship at Ensenada and pay some Mexicans to drive us to Los Angeles. "I cannot spend New Year's Eve on this boat."

"No way, that's crazy. We could get raped," she said.

"Well, at least we'd have a good New Year's!" I yelled. Rape didn't sound as bad as spending another day on this cruise. "Think about it," I said. "I know they have those parasailing rides on the beaches in Mexico; maybe we could parasail back." Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.

"You can gamble now. We're in Mexico," Dumb Dumb said when she woke me up two hours later.

Immediately, I felt better. Since I would need a cheeseburger and a couple of hours to recover before my next cocktail, we headed to the cafeteria for lunch. I explained to her over the world's most disgusting cheeseburger that Rico had taken good care of me last night and that she shouldn't judge people based on their socks.

"I was scared. I didn't know where you were, and my father told me not to leave the cabin after dark," she said. It was no surprise to me that she had called her father. She called him several times a day in New Jersey to ask him things like whether it was going to rain in California and if it was okay to eat at Subway, the sandwich chain. My favorite piece of advice he had given her was to never use tampons and only wear maxipads because, "There's a killer out there, and its name is toxic shock syndrome. ' ' I wanted to tell her father that I was living proof that a tampon could survive inside of a woman for up to three days before any real symptoms flared up, but I was becoming more adept at picking my battles.

I asked Dumb Dumb if she thought any more about my idea for getting back to Los Angeles.

"My father said no way, it would be way too dangerous," she told me.

I thought about going it alone, but I couldn't leave her here on this ship by herself. Still, I couldn't believe this boat was where I was meant to wreak havoc on New Year's Eve.

"Fine," I said. "Let's go gamble. I'll teach you how to play blackjack."

I gambled for close to eight hours straight with Dumb Dumb standing guard. I was up four hundred dollars and was feeling great. She was too nervous to waste any of her own money, so finally I gave her one hundred dollars in chips and she played with that. She appeared to be winning, but she always bet the minimum amount, which was good because it meant she was occupied for a longer period of time.