If you’ve been on a plane lately, you know they’re packing more passengers into those things than ever. In her boarding announcement for my flight to LAX, the gate attendant actually said: “We have an incredibly full flight today, so your cooperation is appreciated.” True to her word, I rose some 6 hours later from seat 142½D stiffer than an extra in Night of the Living Dead.
Then I had to wrench my overweight suitcase (hey, you try packing for a three-week cruise) off the baggage carousel while the airport luggage jockeys stood casually by adjusting their kidney belts.
So by the time I arrived at the port I was feeling pretty tight and beat up. Fortunately, a cruise ship is designed to welcome and soothe this exact type of traveler and, within minutes of check-in, I was lounging in my cabin in a complimentary terry robe with a bottle of pinot grigio and some miniature room-service egg rolls.
I couldn’t help noticing, however, that flexibility would be a requirement for this journey. My bathroom was about the size of a Smart Car. Using the shower, the toilet or even my electric razor would require contortions that I’d long admired (but never attempted) from adult films. And it was all eventually compounded when the ship reached open water and started heaving and rolling. At one point, I felt like I had signed onto the S.S. Maytag.
Shipboard activities are listed on a daily flyer. When mine arrived that evening, I noted that immediately after tomorrow’s breakfast buffet and just prior to dollar-bill origami, there was a 45-minute yoga class. Perfect. With multiple sea days ahead, this would be my method. I’d done some yoga in the past, but never consistently. Although the buffets might keep me from seeing my toes, perhaps—with dedication—I could at least touch them.