Lindsey Monroe Workshop Piece

While the guys spent weeks flexing in front of the gym mirrors, we girls sweated through cycling, kickboxing and the Victoria’s Secret swimsuit website in preparation.

After a riveting Southwest Airlines flight over the Atlantic coast, we drift into the baggage claim at Ft. Lauderdale/Hollywood Airport where five Celebrity Cruise Line representatives greet us, all over 70 years old.

Miriam checks our names off a roster for the shuttle from Ft. Lauderdale Airport to the Port of Miami, where we’ll meet six other friends who drove from Virginia to Miami overnight.

Senior year flew past us, and with only eight weeks until college graduation, 12 of us will spend five days on board the Celebrity Century sailing to Ochos Rios, Jamaica and Georgetown, Grand Cayman Island for Spring Break 2010.

We sit on the airport floor awaiting our baggage when Bob approaches. Bob is a six-foot-three, balding Floridian in his mid-seventies who works for Celebrity, making sure passengers arrive safely to their port of call.

After talking with Bob about my cruising experience (I’ve traveled with Carnival and Royal Caribbean, but never Celebrity before) he puts his arm around my shoulders and bends down to get close to my ear. “Miss Lindsey- a word of advice for you,” he whispers. “Don’t buy drugs in Jamaica.”

We begin the 35-minute shuttle ride from Ft. Lauderdale to Miami, gawking at the massive South Beach high rises until we pull up next to a structure so massive it makes our charter bus look like a toy car. It’s white and blue, with tiny portholes sprinkled along its side; flags strewn across the top deck.

At 71,545 tons and 815 feet long the Celebrity Century ship houses 1,814 passengers, 17,000 pounds of beef and 175 bottles of Gin during a five-day cruise. Celebrity unleashed the Century in 1995 and fully renovated it in 2006. The ship’s steam funnel has the letter “X” on it, the Greek letter for “C,” the first letter of “Chandris,” Celebrity Cruise Line’s founding family.

We collect our “Access Cards” once we board the ship. We use the cards to get on and off the ship, in and out of our rooms, and most importantly, for Mojitos at the Sunset Bar.

A number of crew members in maroon sport coats hand us mimosas and lead us to the poolside lunch buffet. We scarf down plates full of Pad Thai and Caesar salad as our six fellow friends sneak up on us. “Welcome to Miami!” they bellow with open arms.

Cruising is perfect for people who appreciate quality food in high quantities. During his show, onboard comedian juggler David Lucas advised that cruisers “arrive as passengers, but leave as cargo.”

I believe I ate over 100 nachos, 57 onion rings, and 40 dinner courses throughout my stay, not to mention the Mango daiquiris Aleksander, our Serbian cocktail waiter—and newest friend, served up daily.

Trash cans don’t exist on the Century except in bathrooms. Each morning when I finish my banana, a crew member swiftly takes the peel right out of my hand. Fork-to-mouth is the only exercise I managed to do during my entire vacation.

There’s a suggested dress code for dinner, but people can wear whatever they please to the Grand Restaurant. The two-story dining has hundreds of tables, waiters and guests each night at 6:00 and again at 8:30.

Our waiter each night is Antonio from the Philippines, who “is here to provide you with the most excellent service because, you, are, on, vacation” he assures us.

Jovica (pronounced Joe-veesk-ah) is our younger, assistant waiter. Each time Jovica refills my water glass, I manage to chirp “thank you!” with flirtatious Virginian charm. Amid the uncontrollable giggles I’ve caused him, Jovica mumbles “You’re Welcome!”

I learned how to transform a five-course meal into a 10-course meal on the first night.
After placing a napkin on my lap, Antonio opens my menu. I gasp at the number of choices. “How will I ever decide!?”

“You can have them all if you’d like, my dear” Antonio urges.

The whole table looks back at him with wide eyes. “Yay!” I clap my hands together and cheer.

After two appetizers, soup, salad, an entree and two desserts, we head to the casino for drinks and slots. The guys line up along the blackjack table, and we girls hop onto velvet-covered barstools. Raimo, our favorite bartender on board, pours strong drinks and constantly jokes that we’re too young to have them. We wave off his playfulness with our Access Cards and sun burnt smiles beneath the gold-plated ceiling.

By the time we’ve ordered one drink, the guys have managed to lose a collective $400.

We wander upstairs to Hemisphere, the Celebrity Century nightclub, to enjoy the best of Bon Jovi and Michael Jackson.

Located at the very top of the ship, Hemisphere is the rockiest place on the ship with its floor-to-ceiling glass windows. But no one feels seasick while on the illuminated dance floor.
Spring Breakers make up the majority if the crowd, wearing button-down shirts, sundresses, and brown flip-flops. Many of the guys are “Sig Eps” from East Tennessee State and many of the girls hail from the Kappa Kappa Gamma chapter at The University of Central Florida.

Onboard stand-up comedian James Stevens III calls them the Kappa Kappa Kappas. James is African American, and says that “when the KKK girls come screaming ‘James! James!’” he quickly runs the opposite way.

Despite the late night fist-pumping in Hemisphere, everyone makes it to breakfast by 9:30 a.m. for an early start onto the islands. My friend Allie and I share an internal stateroom with no windows. Our room is always pitch-black, so I schedule wake-up calls for us.

On Monday and Tuesday we awake to violent shaking. Feeling distraught with no windows to see what’s happening, I run upstairs to Deck 11 in my pajamas. I look over the railing on the outdoor dining area to find the green Ochos Rios mountains on Monday, and the bustling streets and beaches of Grand Cayman Island on Tuesday.

After two full days on the Caribbean Islands, we disperse into our six separate rooms on Tuesday for late afternoon naps in oversized terrycloth robes before cocktail hour. We meet in the Martini Bar around 7:30 and exchange stories about snorkeling, shopping and eating on the islands. As we sit cross-legged sipping martinis in white leather chairs, the lights above us change from blue, to green, to red, purple and white.

Our last day, we cruise back to Miami from Grand Cayman Island. Onboard festivities take place inside and outside. Two couples in our group head indoors for afternoon trivia and bingo, while the rest of us watch the “King of the Ship Competition.” Nine college-aged boys stand on the edge of the pool ready to show off their belly flopping skills. Diego, the emcee, does commentary on their “finesse.”

On our last night we scatter throughout the ship before dinner for naps, drinks, sushi or sunset on deck.

I sip a glass of cheap red wine in the Crystal Room with my friend James, who shares my affinity for jazz music. The band we’re watching has Big Band sound, but with only four musicians, plays an intimate, jazz-like performance. Because we are the only two people in the entire lounge, we get our own personal show. The band lets me make requests.

After dinner we head to James Stevens III’s stand-up show. We sit up front, doubling over for his Lil’ Wayne and Stevie Wonder impressions.

We head to the casino where the girls play their last few quarters on the slot machines. Raimo makes our Long Island Ice Teas and we promise we are 21 one last time. We spend the rest of the night dancing to Motown, Top 40’s, Techno and Disco music in Hemisphere.

From musical selections to food selections, there seems to be something to suit everyone onboard the Celebrity Century as it bobs from island to island throughout the Caribbean Sea.