Getting up early on Sunday, the first full day of our cruise, wasn’t hard to do. I told my daughter, “Usually I hate hearing an alarm clock in the morning. Today I feel like getting up right away. Maybe that’s because I slept sound as a baby last night.”

Snuggling deeper under the blanket, Tammie said, “It’s vacation excitement. You slept like a fussy baby. Shortly after you dropped off to sleep last night, there was a sound and a flash of light in our window. You sat bolt upright and asked, “What was that, and why is there light in my bedroom?”

I protested, “I don’t remember doing that! Were you awake because you were having trouble going to sleep?”

Tammie sleepily replied, “No, I was just dozing off. When you sat up you pulled the blanket off me. After being startled and chilled, I had trouble going back to sleep. I doubt you were even awake when you sat up.”

Peering past the rescue boat machinery outside our cabin window, I apologized and commented, “There’re white caps on the sea this morning, but I don’t feel movement.”

My daughter comforted, “You shouldn’t get motion sick. The Scopolamine patch for that is in place.” Emerging from her cozy cocoon of blankets and pulling out her phone, Tammie continued, “Now, I have a list of all the ship activities available to us today. First, we will attend the church service, then go for the Sunday brunch held in the dining room.”

At brunch, we shared a table with friendly strangers. Overhead, the captain of the ship greeted the passengers and informed us that our first full day of the cruise would be spent on the open Pacific Ocean. Docking in Juneau would take place shortly after noon on Monday. I glanced out the window, noting, “The sea is the color of gray steel, and there are even more white caps than earlier.”

Tammie and I spent the next several hours trying not to miss out on any interesting activities. In the Rolling Stone lounge, we attended a talk on the ship’s gift shops. Everyone was given two-hundred-dollar vouchers to spend there. The catch…the vouchers were good for only sixteen minutes.  I was relieved when Tammie rushed us off to attend a class on the art of doodling on deck 11.

We discovered deck 11 could only be reached by taking one of the forward elevators. The small craft room and the large bar and lounge called the Crow’s Nest, were the only things on this deck. Passengers relaxed in cushy lounge chairs lined along the sleek, glass-encased bow, enjoying the fabulous view. Tucked in the center of the Lounge was a bar where they were busy serving coffee and alcohol.  

The next activity we hurried off to, a Dutch afternoon tea held in the second-floor dining room, was on the opposite end of the ship. We were getting plenty of exercise! Tammie and I shared a well-appointed, three-tiered cake stand with two young vacationing friends. Generous amounts of tea washed down small slivers of sandwiches, tiny biscuits, scones, and cookies. The sweeter the treat, the higher the plate we found it placed upon!

Needing fresh air and a chance to walk off the rich treats, my daughter and I ventured out onto the side deck directly below our cabin. A stiff wind was blowing. In addition to the numerous white caps, the ocean was now producing huge mountainous swells that quickly rolled down into valleys. Afraid that my Scopolamine patch wouldn’t be effective, and I’d get sick if I studied what appeared to be the ocean inhaling and exhaling, I quickly turned away.

The next event we took pains to attend was an art auction where we put in several bids. After resting in our cabin for only a brief time before supper, we trudged slowly down the long, narrow halls to get to the dining room. In the dining room I enjoyed a shrimp cocktail, a rack of lamb with mint jelly and a small wedge of black forest cake. As daylight faded, the ocean swells outside the dining room window imitated the swoops and dives of a rollercoaster.

Leaning back in her chair, Tammie asked, “When we’re done here, would you want to go to see a show on the World Stage? The only problem is that the stage is in the bow of the ship and we’re on the opposite end of the ship right now.”

Making a face, I admitted, “I’m not very interested in doing that.”

My daughter confessed, “After running around all day, I’m exhausted. I really don’t want to go either. If it’s alright with you, I’d enjoy retiring early tonight. The ship offers too many interesting activities. I’ve had us racing back and forth from one end of the ship to the other trying to take all of it in because I’ve been suffering from fear of missing out.”

I turned to look at Tammie and laughed. I’d seen the letters F.O.M.O. on the internet but never knew what they meant until that moment. I suggested with a giggle, “It’s too bad there isn’t a patch for F.O.M.O. like there is for motion sickness.”

“There is,” Tammie replied with a rueful giggle, “It’s called a band aide for the blisters on my feet.”