Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
IT'S a clear, crisp December day as we chug into Long Beach. The sea lions lounging on the harbor buoys
bark at us as we pass. People fire up their cell phones when we get into signal range and begin making
calls.
“End of cruise blues, my friend,” says a man to his buddy as they sit at an outdoor bar on the top deck.
They're enjoying their last two glasses of gratis liquor.
Once the ship has docked, the line forms to disembark. It's calm and orderly, but slow. The old,
wheelchair-bound, apparently senile woman behind us throws a hissy. “I've never seen such chaos,” she
says. She sounds like Margaret Dumont in a Marx Brothers movie.
At last, we step onto dry ground. I can see Max up ahead, with the rest of the band, his arms raised in
triumph. “Freedom!” he shouts back to us.
We hail a cab and throw our backpacks in the trunk.
Search WWH ::
Custom Search