As mentioned in previous (and increasingly infrequent) posts about our recent Royal Caribbean cruise experience, the ship was packed full of old(er) fat(ter) Americans, primarily from NYC and Jersey. For the most part, ignoring the fact that it seems to be a cultural “thing” from that part of the world to be a tad less than polite to people serving them and a bit on the loud and brash side, these people were at least nice to me. My wife? Well, she was a bit jaded by the last cruise and had a hard time not focusing on the past experiences with New Yorkjersians. She still thought of them as rude but I think she warmed to them at some point as she stopped complaining.
One day, roundabout day three of the cruise, we were sitting on the deck in the shade and I saw a tanned woman of possible Italian heritage walk our way in a relatively (for the company) small bathing suit. She wore it well. Tanned, light olive complexion, dark shoulder length hair, shiny perfect teeth all ruined with the ridiculous bug-eye huge sunglasses and “Juicy” sweatpants, the elastic cuffs pulled up to the knees like it was 1995. If anything, I was pleased to see a few younger people on the ship who were not the grandchildren of the locals (the retiree cruisers, readily identified by their leathery completion and disdainful glances toward we pale Canadians and our children).
A few evenings in, we skipped the main restaurant and opted for the buffet. We had already noshed at the trough so to speak but we wanted a break from dressing up every night. I was pleased to see Ms. Juicy New York 2014 sit down at the table nearby as frankly, I was going to have some scenery to cast glances upon that was at least visually appealing and not the usual, a large person with a plate of doughnuts. Her girlfriend sat down (equally nice) then her girlfriend’s boyfriend (sketchy wanna-be B-boy) followed by her husband. Now this guy was a caricature of every doorknob you see on a sitcom who represents blue-collar, semi-educated New York. I half expected him to start punching meat in the ships kitchen locker after I heard the barely formed words that fell out of his slack mouth (yes, I know, Philadelphia, not New York). Thoughts swirled about in my head. Why would she choose this guy as a mate? What would compel an attractive young woman to spend time let alone marry a guy who dresses like that AND has the vocabulary or a sea sponge? I always have these contemplations when I see a cute woman with a dumpy, stupid man. I sipped my tea and pushed away my place (I am sure some human seagulls made note that I hadn’t eaten half of my food) and within minutes, she answered the question for me. She began to eat.
Now, I had not noticed her mild overbite before. I’m okay with overbites. A woman can have one and still be attractive. It makes kissing a bit odd, but it’s not a game changer. An under bite, well, it can certainly be something that makes you think twice before proceeding with full on spit swapping let alone a date, an over bite? Not such a big deal. This however wasn’t her problem.
She eats with her mouth wide open.
Not just a word of two spoken with a mouth full of food (hopefully shaded by a hand from view). This was a full-on, fully open, chewing-the-food-bit-by-bit, teeth rising and closing on said food SO ALL COULD SEE THE MASTICATION PROCESS.
I was disgusted. I was aghast. I was caught staring by her big lunkhead boyfriend and had to pretend I was watching something happening in line. I told my wife after the fact as I was afraid she would loudly go on a tirade about the New Yorkers.
Juicy had a whole new meaning after this experience.
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