Dear fellow passengers and extraordinary crew,
I want to apologize for any confusion or upset I may have caused during last night’s Mega Deck Party. You see, after 4 days of family-wide seasickness and heat exhaustion, in my vomit-smeared haze I became convinced that we had never left Florida. We entered every “country” we visited through a gift shop, all with the same Swatch watches and giant Toblerones for sale. No passports were required. The beaches were interchangeable, all liberally blanketed with the same blue lounge chairs and umbrellas. Clearly, Carnival Cruise LinesTM was driving us out to sea each night and returning to a Florida port each morning, pretending we were in the Caribbean.
Confident in my assessment, I showered off the toddler vomit, slipped on my best cruise elegant dress, and washed down two Dramamine with half a bottle of wine from room service. I had heard at morning announcements that our Cruise Director, Mr. Guy Funtastic™ himself, would be overseeing the Mega Deck Party festivities, and I thought I could trick him into dropping his vaguely European accent, disclosing the true location of our ship, or both. When I arrived on the upper deck, the Cruise Director was leading some sort of line dance. As I crossed the dance floor to confront him, I accidentally dropped my wine glass, breaking it. I picked up the largest piece to ensure it got recycled and continued toward the Cruise Director. I was not “brandishing a weapon.” I had no intention of harming our Dear Cruise Director, but the boat rocked as I approached him and I lost my balance, accidentally striking him. In my frantic attempts to remove the glass shard from his neck, we fell overboard. I thought I could swim him to Florida, which was surely nearby, for appropriate medical care.
I want to commend the crew who quickly came to my “rescue,” despite my repeated attempts to swim ashore. I would also like to thank the ship’s doctor for dosing me with Haldol. I haven’t been this relaxed in years. To my fellow passengers, I’m told that, in the commotion, several of you were hit with “arterial spray” and are demanding that Carnival Cruise Lines™ cover the costs of replacing your cruise elegant attire. Though it was not my blood, I will happily pay for dry-cleaning expenses as a show of good will. May Mr. Guy Funtastic™ rest in peace.
I have had a great deal of time to think during my 12-hour, blissfully child-free incarceration. After several Skype conversations with a Florida-based psychiatrist (that woman has seen everything!), I now understand that Carnival Cruise Lines™ did not perpetrate a hoax. However, I believe the reality is far worse. My fellow passengers, we are unwittingly providing financial support to a terrorist organization that seeks the subjugation of all Caribbean peoples. Sure, Carnival Cruise Lines™ might seem like a harmless aging-frat-bro-turned-vaguely-creepy-kiddie-magician, but, in secret, the corporate overlords have been hard at work building the Carnival Empire™, a brutal dictatorship that now controls one-third of the Caribbean. In the dark of night, Carnival Guerillas™ carpet-bomb pristine Caribbean beaches with rickety blue lounge chairs and tiny blue umbrellas and forcibly replace all local life with Toblerone-infested FUN Shops™. This is an international crisis, and no one is watching. Except Panama, whose flag flies from every Carnival Cruise Lines™ mast. Coincidence? I think not.
Sincerely Yours,
Inmate #1
Carnival Magic Correctional Facility™
International Waters
Laura Skopec 