2200 hours. 10 miles from Port of Miami.
Feldman, David, M.D.
Age 72. Great Neck, New York. Special requests: None. Interests: Rest.
Feldman, Annette
Age 69. Great Neck, New York. Special requests: (1) Low-sodium, high-fiber meals for David Feldman. (2) Feldman and Connelly parties must be seated together at every meal. (3) Feldman and Connelly cabins should be near each other. Interests: Family. Knitting. Mah-jongg. Entertaining.
Connelly, Mitchell
Age 47. Sacramento, California. Special requests: Couples massage billed to separate account for myself and Elise Feldman Connelly. Interests: Writing. Reading. My family. Comedy.
Feldman Connelly, Elise
Age 44. Sacramento, California. Special requests: Make sure my family has fun. Are there boutiques on board and are traveler’s checks accepted? Interests: Finding rare objects. Collecting. Gift selection.
Connelly, Rachel
Age 19. Stanford, California. Special requests: Can the spin bike be reserved? Interests: Spinning. Not being forced into the teen club.
Connelly, Darius
Age 17. Sacramento, California. Special requests: None. Interests: Boarding. None.
Feldman, Frederick
Age 48. Aspen, Colorado. Special requests: Please transfer from standard stateroom to Deluxe Royal Suite on separate deck away from rest of Feldman and Connelly parties and bill the difference to my account. Put flowers in room with card for Natasha Kuznetsov. Deliver a tray of cookies and candy to room of Darius and Rachel Connelly and sign “From Uncle Freddy” along with gift cards to use in the arcade and at the teen pool. Interests: Depends what is legal in international waters. Kidding! In earnest, surviving this trip.
Kuznetsov, Natasha
Age 29. Aspen, Colorado. Special requests: Is there Wi-Fi? If no Wi-Fi in room, how do I get Wi-Fi? Please be in touch with me regarding Wi-Fi. Interests: Yoga. Getting a tan. Relaxing. Getting to know my boyfriend’s family.
Julian Masterino looked over the ship’s manifest for the last time before he was due to set sail aboard the Ocean Queen the next day. Next to him in bed, his partner of three years, Roger Alistair, was palming the latest James Patterson. Their French bulldog, Takai, panted between them.
“Anything interesting?” Roger asked, stifling a yawn. They had done this routine at least fifty times, Julian reviewing the passenger questionnaires the night before embarkation, Roger asking questions about the newest crop of travelers.
“Standard fare. A family celebrating a birthday and nobody wants to be on the trip.”
“You should have been a therapist, not a cruise director. You’d make more money and wouldn’t have to leave me all the time.”
Julian rolled his eyes.
“Boring! I couldn’t stand to listen to the same people’s problems for years on end. With the cruises, you get the dysfunctional families, the hopeful couples, the depressed old people, the irritated kids, and you get to make a difference for them in a week, sometimes less. You’d be surprised how effective an all-you-can-eat buffet is in boosting serotonin.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the omelet station is very therapeutic,” Roger said, turning on his side. Though he clearly considered Julian’s job pure fluff compared to his position as general counsel for the Miami Dolphins, every time his partner returned home bleary-eyed and still adjusting to terra firma, Roger would insist on a full recounting: Craziest complaint at Guest Services? Drunkest person at karaoke? Roger demanded it all.
Julian turned off his bedside lamp. He needed a full eight hours before he set sail with three thousand strangers that he had to transform into friends, trusting travelers, and satisfied customers. Complicated people with thorny relations, much like the Feldmans of the manifest.
“Good night, Roger,” Julian said softly, already feeling himself melting into the mattress. It was already 2230 hours. His time for shut-eye was ticking away.
“I gotta come with you on one of these cruises someday,” Roger said, closing his book with a thud. “We’d have a great time. The captain can marry us. You know you can’t avoid talking about us getting hitched forever.”
“Uh-huh. Tonight I can. You know I need sleep before I ship out,” Julian mumbled. “Good night, Rog.”