Polynesian Night

How had this happened? How had I ended up standing in front of the whole ship's passengers and crew on the Aranui's "Polynesian Night," ad-libbing into the microphone to introduce our parody of Jingle Bells? I don't even know how to deal with other people, remember? I live alone. I travel alone. I don't even like people most of the time.

But here I was, bullshitting my way through an introduction speech, then jingling my keys along as we sang an Aranui-themed version of a holiday classic.

The instructions had been to produce a song or dance from our home culture. The crew did it, singing and dancing for us. Mana, the entertainment director, had rounded up and taught passengers how to dance and scored a number. Six crew members—including a waiter, a security guy, and a man who worked in freight—who had danced in the festival in the Tahiti troupe donned their loincloths one more time to bellow and stomp around for us.

The French had cobbled together a song at the last minute, led by one of my dorm-mates. The Germans hadn't bothered. I figured the only thing more embarrassing than actually doing something would be NOT doing something, so along with Bob from Waynesboro and Maggie from Oakland and a germ of an idea from "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells," we wrote a song, completely with Vern, Bob, and Barry from Oakland doing hakkas at the "ha ha ha" and "hey" parts.

Unfortunately, organizing the gang meant emceeing and singing. I'm a reluctant performer, never the first one to take the mic. But when pressed, I know I can do it, so it wasn't the worst thing when I was suddenly up on stage.

The whole event was kind of ridiculous but was also highly amusing. I've acquired a video, which I'll upload from Tahiti.

To me, anyway.