St. George's Dream Part Five - Ship Life As Usual

At the moment I am sitting in my room... good ol' 5267. Earlier today I went out to St. Catherine's Beach for a little sun and surf, then realized that I had lost my crew ID card. I knew I had it when I swiped off the ship, and remember putting it into the small velcro pocket on my swim trunks. So, I guess at some point as I was swimming in the ocean, it fell out. After scouring the ship for signatures, I am proud to say that I have a brand spankin' new crew card, and am still able to come and go as I please. Meantime, security is on the lookout for a fish posing as a “Production Cast Principal.”

So, what's new? Oh, you know, the same old same old... we are in the middle of our eleventh Bermudian cruise. The weather is sunny and in the 80s, and the water is cool and refreshing. This is the kind of itinerary that can make a man crazy, or lazy... it all depends on your outlook. Personally, I have no animosity towards perfect weather and endless trips to the beach. There are a few who would differ, but like I said, they are few.

And I haven't forgotten that I am here to work... after all, it's not like NCL pays me to go to the beach (but if they decide to, I would have no problem working a double shift). The shows, as I have mentioned dozens of times, have been and will always be the same. Still, lately we have been doing some things to keep it fresh. Sometimes it's because we need to, when a new dancer joins for example, and other times because we know you, the audience, will never notice.

Lets discuss the former first. Last week Tom, one of our Dancers, left us for the West End. He had already booked a gig performing West Side Story, and JAR HQ saw no problem in hiring him for a half contract. Now, for those of you faithful readers who know the end to this sentence, skip ahead, but for the rest of you, we did not get his replacement until the day he left. In a perfect world, we would have gotten a new dancer a week before, so that we could rehearse him after he saw the shows, and wouldn't have to dump him into the fire a day after boarding. Still, our new dancer, Rashiff, was with us back in 2007, so it had only been a little over a year since he last danced in the Stardust. Thankfully, his transition was painless, and after a week of slight reblocks, he is dancing a hundred percent of his track.

Also, just last night one of our dancers fell ill, so we had to drop back and punt, reblocking some numbers, and cutting one number all together. At first glance, this wouldn't seem like a big deal, but one thing that makes this a little more difficult is the backing track to which the band plays to. If it were on a CD, the techs could just skip ahead one track... but since it's on a multitrack tape, fast forwarding is our only option. So I was called upon to give a narration over the seven to ten second blank spot in the show... no problem.

I had my stuff to say, and I deliver it on the balcony stage right, and bang, music starts and the show goes on. First time I do it, no problem. The second time... well, my buddy Steve thought it would be funny to lock the door behind me, so that I can't get backstage after I finish my stirring narration. There's the audience, staring at me as the spotlight goes off as I tug at the door, like a child... a well dressed child. Finally, the door clicks open, and Steve cackles and howls as he lets me in. This brings me to the latter subject mentioned earlier... the changes to the show which aren't exactly necessary, but are too good to keep out, for example:

Victor, our Spanish gymnast, is very serious about what he does. I found my self chuckling one night as we were opening Sea Legs... and not because I was wearing a hideously ridiculous sequined mess of a captain's outfit, that's a given... but I notice that Victor does his pass across the stage, ending with a fist in the air and a bow to the audience, with the most stoic, concentrated face he could muster. So, I approach him backstage with a request. I told him I would give him five bucks if he did that pass with the biggest shit eating grin he could force, the whole way from the start to the bow.

The next time we did the show, I was not disappointed. He came out, looked at me with the stupidest grin, then proceeded to do his back handspring across the stage. He even yelled “Whhheeee!” as he went across. Came back to center, fist in the air, stupid toothy grin, and bowed. After that number I slapped a crisp five dollar bill in his hand, and it was the best damn five bucks I had spent in a long time.

Speaking of Victor and changes, I have also altered my bow narration for him to the following. “Spain is known for many things... one is tapas, the other is their very own world class gymnast Victor!” It's nice to have some sort of artistic control over your craft...

Another slight variation to the rule happens a little later in SLAS, when Steve and I sing “Muddy Waters/Waiting For The Light”... two songs from the musical Big River. I start the song solo, and Steve comes out and joins me for some harmonizing. At some point during this run, I've noticed Steve will slap my shoulder to punctuate what we're singing. So, since this realization, I've always slapped him back within a few seconds of his initial deliverance. So far, we're up to three a piece, and our goal is five for the next show. Of course, if we were hired for your show, we would never think of doing such a thing... seriously... and I would never make fart noises into the microphone during a performance, but it could add to the artistic integrity of the piece... we'll talk.

Blah blah blah, enough typing... how 'bout some pictures?

Here I am with Fith, coming out of the ocean. Now, blow up the picture... if you look a little past my left shoulder, you'll notice a little green speck floating in the water. That's a giant metal buoy, marking where the ferry boats travel. It's way the hell out there, and we swam to it and back. Probably fifty minutes or so, round trip. This was after he and I jogged the island. Once we had gotten all the way out there, I look back at the beach, which was nothing more than a spit of land with tiny ants crawling on it. We were really, really far out... that's when my stupid mind started thinking about sharks. Needless to say, the swim back took a little less time.

On my next trip out to the beach, I was swimming with Fith and Steve around St. Catherine's fortress. Along the way I see something blue and opaque floating in the water. I couldn't tell if it was a piece of trash, or a jellyfish. I was about five feet away from it when I felt a tingle on my arm, which turned into searing intense pain within seconds... that's when I decided, while screaming like a girl, that it was indeed a jellyfish with a freakishly long reach. From this experience I have gleaned two things.

One: If you think it's a jellyfish, it's a jellyfish.

Two: Bathrooms next to the ocean smell like pee because of the people who have not discovered bullet point one for themselves. Never have I willingly peed on myself, nor have I been so grateful to do so. And my pee went everywhere... on the toilet, on the floor, on my feet... but dammit if it didn't take the sting out.

Fith, Steve and I traveled out one day to visit the Crystal Caves, naturally formed by the ocean water and discovered around 1908. Here are some pictures

While we were surrounded by stalactites, stalagmites, and soda straws, our tour guide pointed at over a hundred things, telling us what they looked like. One was a dragon, another was a castle... that was all pretty harmless. Now it's time for you to play. The picture isn't very good, but there are actually two things that the following stalagmite looks like. Ready? Let's play name that natural rock formation! Look at the orangish thing in the middle of this picture and guess what it looks like.

Give up? The correct answers, as given by our tour guide are:

1. BOB MARLEY

2. THOMAS JEFFERSON

What the hell???

After that, it was time to go to the Swizzle Inn, for one of the only things the island is famous for: Rum Swizzles.

In case you were wondering how a man named Fith signs his name...

Meanwhile, the ship is going about her normal routine. Last week we played a game of dodge the hurricane. When we all heard about Bertha, we were leaving Bermuda to head back to Boston. We were getting ready to take an angry mob of passengers to Halifax instead the following week, as Bertha was a category three for a while. The Sunday we left Boston, she was a category one, and then got downgraded to a tropical storm... but she was hanging out in Bermuda none the less. So, we headed towards Bermuda, with a couple of game plans. If it was too windy, we'd dock at the Dockyards, Bermuda's old naval port. If the wind died down, we'd head towards St. George's as usual.

Tuesday morning I was in the gym, and no one knew what was going to happen. The captain came on the loudspeaker, and after his usual mumbling, said that we would go to St. George's. Actually, his exact words were “We'll give it a shot.” We'll give it a shot? That sounds promising. Fortunately we had a head wind coming into the cut, and we shot straight through and made it to port. The weather that week was gorgeous, but the first day we were there, all the beach clubs were closed... no one had expected our arrival! By the next day, word had gotten out, and it was business as usual on the tiny island.

Speaking of the captain, for a few cruises now he has welcomed the guests on board with a rambling speech, including a couple curious subjects. Picture yourself embarking on a cruise, perhaps for the first time. You don't know what to expect, but figure that from what you've heard, every whim is catered too. After all, you're on a cruise ship! Then you here the captain warn you not to overuse the fresh water on the ship. That means showers, basically... Hot dog! Let's have a great time, but let's not hog the showers, m'kay? But, look at the following picture... would you want to take a long shower in this?

No kidding, this came out of my shower and tap for a couple hours. I didn't realize it until my shower started making funny noises and spitting water at me. Poor, poor Dream... Back to the captain.

Midway through his ramblings he addresses the “youngsters” on board, reminding them not to run up and down the stairs, and not to push all the buttons in the elevators. True to form, every child that hears this runs up and down the stairs and pushes all the buttons in the elevators. Hearing him say that, I have to admit that I am tempted to do the same. This cruise I have heard the captain's announcement three days in a row, and he reminds the kids to behave... Seriously, most of the adults tune out his monotone announcements.

Of course, it's not just the Captain's warnings that go unheeded. I have mentioned a time or two about how careless and disgusting the pax can be when it comes to handling food in our buffet style restaurants. Well, one new shining example of reckless abandon is the lack of clothes worn in the Sports Bar. People come in, without SHIRTS, with CHEST HAIR, and help themselves. Sneeze guard or not, come on people. One day we heard one of the servers nicely ask a pax who was as described above to please put a shirt on while serving himself food. He replied “Okay, I will.” Then as he walked away he muttered, defiantly, “tomorrow.” Yeah, you showed her. Later, as if he was just trying to make a point, he walked back in with seemingly better posture and freshly coiffed chest hair for more food.

Late night in the casino pax can grab a snack while they give the ship what would otherwise be their drinking money. As I was walking in from the theatre I catch a glimpse of a passenger reaching out to grab some slices of pineapple with his bare hands. Almost immediately the server standing next to the table swatted his hand away with a pair of tongs. No kidding. And you know what, that guy slunk back and got a plate, and used the tongs. That's friggin' STYLE 2 point oh!

Speaking of STYLE, guess who finally got invited to be on the panel for Liar's Club? Heh heh heh... The way I looked at this opportunity, it would only come around once, as it is usually made up of the cruise director and three of the guest entertainers. So, I decided to give it my all, and while I killed, I probably won't be on the deus next time. Below are the words and my definitions, one of which is correct. At the end are the number of groups that voted for me as correct. Can you guess which one?

1. CRAPULENCE – Increased density in the air due to flatulence (1 of10)

2. MUNTJACK – Person who dresses or poses as someone they are not, originating from the days when everyone wanted to be a lumberjack (7 of 10)

3. TITUP – From the Elizabethan period, this was a polite way women let each other know that a nipple was being pushed out of their corset (1 of 10)

4. HEMIPYGIC – A person with only one butt cheek (3 of 10)

I have seen this show done many times, and as you can imagine, there are many “cutesy” metaphors that can be drawn from the following words. Crapulence, for example, is how doodoo gets to the hospital, or titup is how you bury Dolly Parton, or is the incorrect way to scuba dive. Well, if everyone is going to hint at it, let me be more direct. So, as I defined the word “titup” I used the word “boobies.” I have always wanted to say “boobies” to a large group of people. And, of course, I got to say “fart” a few times while defining crapulence, all while Fith cradled his head in his hands, questioning his decision of allowing me on the panel.

I also got my share of jabs in off the cuff, something I have always thought I was good at, and finally got my chance to try it without a net. The funny thing about the experience was that for the rest of the cruise, I received more name recognition from that than any other cruise where I just did the same old shows. So, let me paraphrase, if you say the word “fart” and “boobies” repeatedly on stage, people will remember who you are, and will approach you one of those words as a greeting. This to me, is part of the perfect world I have always envisioned. Here I am in action:

Finally, I close this blog with a heavy heart. A few of our friends have left us to go on vacation or to be transferred to other ships. It's true with any entertainment job that goes gig to gig, and cruise ships are no exception. Below are some pictures of me and my buddies that have gone on to greener pastures:

Here is my buddy Seymour, half of the “Black Street Boys.” Their humor was born from street performing and refined with razor sharp wit and rapid fire jokes. Seymour and his cousin Alfred spend the first ten minutes of their show chasing after and harassing people who walk in late or are passing through the theatre during their show. Priceless!

My good buddy Tim, half of Full Impact, another comedy duo. Tim is the guy that started the applause when I made it down the flight of stairs while singing “Home Away From Home.” Tim is also the guy who threatened to eat cheeseburgers off of Steve's butt during poker. Tim is also the guy who tries to tongue kiss you in public, and without warning. Tim is also the guy who somehow managed to damage one of his testicles during a prat fall, then go into excruciating detail to passengers about how he got 5 cc's of fluid drained from it when it swelled up. Oh, Tim is also the guy that forces you to feel the swollen testicle. Tim is also the guy who advises younger passengers on the proper use of a cup, and to pad either side of it with maxi pads, after explaining to him and his parents about his damaged testicle.

Finally is my good buddy Fith. Steve, Fith and I were like the three musketeers for the two months we all worked together. The first time I met Fith, he was pulling me on stage to do a game with a female passenger that involved busting balloons off of various parts of our bodies, instructing me to take off my name tag before doing so. Fith is definitely the most outgoing cruise director I have ever worked with. Extremely friendly and awesome to be around, he will surely be missed around here. Here are some of my favorite pictures.

As we pass through the cut into Bermuda, Fith walks onto the bow of the ship with his life vest, snorkel, and flippers and goes diving into the jacuzzi for fish, as the passengers lined up on the front of the ship cheer him on.

Steve, myself, and Fith, who is dressed up for 70's night.

Fith in action on stage

Last week I gave in and joined Steve and Fith for the dancing to “It's Raining Men” during our Monte Carlo Night.

Here we are after our last fountains.

And I think I'll end on that note. See ya later Fith. Well miss ya buddy... and ciao.

Keep on Livin' The Dream,

Michael Lamendola (with Fith and Steve during the White Hot Party)

St. George's Dream Part Four - Drinking, Debauchery, and America's Independence

At the moment I am sitting in Lucky's, in between the shops and Dazzle's. It's the fourth of July, and we've been at sea for a few hours now. So what happens on the Norwegian Dream during America's Independence Day? Not a whole hell of a lot, really. Today is pretty much identical to the 4^th I spent here back in 2005. On the common decks there are elementary school type decorations hanging amongst the other art work. Red and blue balloons adorn the brass banisters that flank the stairways on the stage (suspiciously, there are no white balloons). Some of our cruise staff are wearing hats a la Uncle Sam (and none of them are American, ha ha), and if anybody wants fireworks tonight, the best thing to do is close your eyes and rub them with your fists. Steve and I did sing the National Anthem this afternoon, after warming up with a rousing rehearsal of Sea Legs At Sea. Below you'll see what we were thinking about wearing while singing to the pax.

As you can see, almost any occasion calls for a little red dickey. All in all, it was your usual sea day on board the Norwegian Dream, with a pinch of patriotism. Add in the fact that we sailed away from one of the oldest British colonies that day, and you've made your daily quota for irony as well. In case you are feeling extra patriotic, here is a video of Steve and I singing:

So, what's been goin' on, huh? The usual. Not sure what that is? Go back and read parts One, Two, or Three. Not that I'm complaining... I get to go to the beach and chill as part of my work week. The singing part of my work week has actually fluctuated slightly, giving us more time at the beach. You'll recall that we do two performances of Rock This Town and Sea Legs At Sea (RTT and SLAS for those who love acronyms), and one of Country Gold (CG) since it falls on a port night. Well, last week Monique, our Hotel Director (HD), decided that we didn't need a CG show, so my 11 hour work week shrunk to 10. So, instead some of us went to Hamilton to hang out and see a movie. Sometimes we wonder just how we do it...

Speaking of Country Gold, here is the ugly truth.

Usually cowboys don't check their faces for shine while riding the dusty plains.

Tim, one of our comedians on board, still attends both Sea Legs shows, just to watch me descend the stairs while singing “Home Away From Home.” Before the show he is talking about my accident which happened “last cruise” (that means three cruises ago to you and I) to the pax in attendance, making sure that I get a healthy round of applause as I take my final step onto the stage. One night, I decided to sing the bulk of my song on the last step... the audience went wild, and I officially milked a song for the first time in my life.

Usually, after a CG show, the fellas all meet in the Shore Ex office and play a little poker. You'll recall that last time we spoke I mentioned that one of the shenanigans included Tim's insistence that he could eat a hamburger that was freshly wiped on Steve's ass. This time, the same boast was made, but missing was the hamburger. Once again our cruise director Fith found himself in the middle of a disgusting homo-erotic sandwich. Again, this is why I take my camera with me everywhere.

I also need to mention that Fith got his first royal flush that night, and was the first one that most of us had ever witnessed. Did I get a picture of that? Nah...

Also, this last cruise was the first time we had another of our Freestyle 2.0 parties. Entitled “Monte Carlo Night,” it's an event that takes place in the casino with well dressed crew mingling with the pax and special entertainment provided by our more talented crew members. When I think of the theme itself, Monte Carlo comes to mind, as it should, with it's famous casino that has been featured in countless movies. I've actually seen this place, from the outside. A Ferrari Enzo was parked outside, and I was nowhere near dressed up enough to see the inside. So, what is our version?

Three guys dressed in drag, lip syncing and dancing to “It's Raining Men.” The event as a whole was kind of disappointing. On paper, the Monte Carlo Night doesn't seem like a good fit for the Dream. Our casino's pretty small to begin with, and when you add in a DJ and try and squeeze in some “entertainment” in a tiny square of carpet surrounded by gaming tables, the room gets even smaller. The event started right after RTT, and what little room we had in the casino was packed with pax, all wondering what was going to happen. Cue the DJ, and every fifteen minutes another act would come on... unfortunately it's the same acts we have in our crew talent show... hip hop dancing, juggling bottles and shakers, Fith in drag... you know, all the stuff that a Monte Carlo night really isn't. Pax got tired of standing in what was becoming a very hot and stuffy casino and took off. The specialty drinks and champagne didn't move much, and unfortunately, the gamblers who would have been there anyway probably didn't care much.

Speaking of life on board, here's a lesson for you. Some time ago, I had found myself locked out of my room twice in the same week. How does that happen? Simply put, I close the door, it locks behind me, and then my feeble mind tells me that the key is still inside. When this happens, I go to reception and have them make me another one (we use those credit card type locks). Still, I don't want to be known as “that guy” so I took one of my three keys I had amassed and gave it to Steve, in case it ever happens again.

Skip ahead a month or so. We were in Hamilton, and I had gone to bed a little early, not interested in going clubbing at one of the two establishments across the street from the ship. I had just fallen asleep when I heard a loud knocking coming from my door. I figured that the cavalry had arrived from the now closed clubs, and no one was feeling any pain. Not in the mood to open the door, I rolled over and ignored it. The knocking stopped, and after a minute of quiet, I heard my door clicking open, followed by a drunk Steve jumping on my bed, cackling “Aren't you glad you gave me a key to your room?”

Since I knew that sleep at this point was going to be a futile effort, I pulled on a pair of jeans and joined my fellow cast members for a drink to celebrate the ringing in of the four o' clock hour. Of course, I am sure that many of you would assume at this point that the moral of the story here is to be careful about who you give your key to, but unfortunately it isn't. No, friends, the moral of this story is if you are drug out of bed to have a drink in a neighbors room with a bunch of your coworkers, wear a shirt... otherwise your dance captain will lick your nipple, as pictured below.

Upon further inspection of that picture, I believe that Allison, one of our Youth Counselors, is indeed biting her lip.

Speaking of our illustrious YC's, one night some of us JARS, YCs, and Cruise Staff were at Dazzles, enjoying a cocktail and conversation. At one point a couple of security guards came up to us and asked the YCs if they had seen a couple of teenagers, and showed them the print out of them from embarkation day. Allison and Ashley recognized them, but admitted they hadn't seen them in a while. So, the manhunt was on. The security guards left, and the YCs got up, started to leave, but then quickly came back to the table and downed their drinks. Smart thinking, and very STYLEish, wouldn't you agree?

As I am writing this blog, I am beginning to see a trend... so rather than fight it and tell you about the history of Bermuda (that wouldn't take to long, as I know practically nothing about it), I think I will focus more on the subject of drinking on the ship. Still, to be fair to my coworkers, we aren't the only ones on board who have lifted a bottle or highball. Take this gentleman for example.

This was taken several cruises ago. Certainly not the first passenger I've seen passed out at one of our many bars and lounges. But, you have to admire the skill it takes to be asleep and still hold, while precariously, your fifth of fifteenth glass of whatever in your hand as you doze. Of course, I am most proud of the fact that I am in the picture with him. How did that happen? Well, it would be rude of me to take a picture of one of our passed out paying guests, so I asked another guest (who was not passed out) to do it for me. STLYE 2.0 you better Belize it.

As I have mentioned, the drinking doesn't stop on the ship. It also occurs on catamarans. Our usual Tuesday night haunt has become quite popular amongst the crews of the Norwegian Dream and Norwegian Majesty. Crew start to arrive around eleven, and stay usually until three in the morning, or until the booze has all been drank, whichever comes first.

Since the stories would all sound the same, I think it would be best is to show you some pictures from some of those Tuesdays.

Here is Caroline, one of our dancers, accepting a tip after... dancing.

Here she is again... about two minutes after... no kidding.

Part of the trio that plays the pool deck. Funny thing, he's about that disgusting sober as well, which from what I gather is not most of the time.

Steve and Alton, our saxophone player.

Steve, taking the short walk back to the ship from the catamaran. Later he, Jason, and I order about three turkey sandwiches, two pizzas, a plate of cookies, and a glass of ice tea from room service.

And now a couple of pictures taken in Dazzles:

Steve has an idea:

Kamikaze shots.

Katie and friends, enjoying a quiet evening out.

Finally, proof that it's not just the JARs that take a leak. Here we are, walking towards the theatre for a little RTT, and up ahead I see water gushing out of the ceiling. A minute later, the front desk manager is barging into the two adjacent rooms that share the plumbing, and making sure nothing is floating inside. A wrench and wet dry vac later, and everything is under control. Our Dream is getting to where she needs some Depends udner garments.

Then there's the crew party held the night of July fourth. It didn't have a specific theme, nor did it really coincide with America's or Canada's Independence. It was just an excuse for the crew to get together and drink some beer and wine. The evening was a definite shot in the arm for morale, which has been strained around here since Freestyle 2.0 came around.

Here are Steve and I, doing our part to cap beer and pour wine.

After about half an hour of cappin' brew. Some folks like their beer six at a time, and since it was free, we were happy to oblige.

But I'd be lying if I said that cruise ship life is purely about drinking. No, it's about sex too. Oh no, not me... at least nothing I will write about here, but this story is just to good to keep from all of you. If you go back to my first entry, you'll learn about Victor, our dancer for Russia who has a weakness for undercooked bacon. Well, even though his heart may be congested with pig fat, it still has room for a little bit of love.

A little over a month ago Victor met a very nice girl, Filipino (and I'll get to why I mention her nationality in a second), who works in one of our restaurants. Literally days after they met I am being shown self portraits of the two of them necking all over Boston. Victor was very proud and happy of his new girlfriend. Well, I suppose when you bring two people together whose second language is English, and when the man doesn't speak much English to begin with, and the woman doesn't speak any Russian... well, you run out of things to talk about pretty quick.

Now, Victor doesn't have his own cabin... he shares with Jason, another of our dancers. Victor's girlfriend shares a cabin with three other girls, so neither one of them experience a whole lot of privacy in their lives. So, with a girl he can't speak too, Victor is left with the choice of either pissing three women off, or one man. Guess which one he chooses...

The first time Jason woke up to the sounds of... shall we say... “English as a second language” it was four in the morning. He has the bottom bunk in the room, and was bewildered by the rhythmic jostling of the bed above. Since we were in port, there was no reason for the ship to be moving at all. Then he started to hear the noises. I'll let that sink in for a moment... Not that Victor and his better half were learning English in the middle of the floor; the bunk beds have privacy curtains. So Jason, being quite complacent, decides that four in the morning is an excellent time to go to the gym. When he returned at five, Victor and company were still hard at work, learning English you see, so Jason grabbed his laptop and went out to check his E mail. Back at six, it seemed there was no end in sight, so Jason went and crashed in another cabin.

Since then, Jason has tried to meet Victor half way with a visitation allowance if you will, but Victor continues to have her over most every night. Plus, since she keeps some odd work hours, English class usually begins around four in the morning. Not wanting to be a teacher's aid, Jason has been forced to leave the room and find other places to sleep. Oh, and just so we're all clear here, the woman in this situation is aware of the third party in the room. Gross.

So, lets jump to the present. Victor, aware that he is totally pissing Jason off, but also in love, has asked Steven for his own cabin, so the English lessons can go on uninterrupted. Of course, with over two thousand pax busting the hull of the ship each week, there is no extra space, save for one of the lifeboats. So, finally, Steve had to bring our cruise director in to mitigate. And the outcome? This kills me...

Victor is allowed to have sex until midnight on nights that precede a show night, and until two in the morning on all other nights. Let me say this again... Our Cruise Director had to set a curfew on sex. Friends, you can't make this stuff up. Fith actually wrote out the schedule for Victor to refer to, in case there was any question to the day or time and how it pertained to his English classes. As I write this, I pray that it has not been thrown away, as I want so desperately to put a picture of it here. If the schedule still exists, you will see it below:

And, on that ridiculous note, I close this here blog. Y'all take it easy.

Keep on Livin' the Dream,

Michael Lamendola (With Fith and Steve outside of St. Catherine's Beach, Bermuda)