President Theodore Daniel Smith

Day 6

Four days into the Rick Springfield & Friends Cruise 2011 we are finally doing something that involves Rick Springfield. That's right. We came on the Rick Springfield cruise and have yet to even try to do something involving this man. Don't ask why. There isn't a real reason. We just... haven't gotten around to it. Maybe I'm trying to disappoint myself. I seem to do that a lot. I set myself up for disaster. Often. There's a lot weighing on my mind right now and for the first time in about a week "Pass the Dutchie" isn't one of them. Well, maybe a little.

Last night I was thinking about all the crazy shit that’s been going on back home and I started to get bummed out a little. My first time out of the country and my beautiful home state of Oklahoma, has 3 earthquakes (and from what I've heard, they weren't totally pussy.), tornadoes, the seriously heavy band, Boris, playing with former Fugazi bassist, Joe Lally, Tommy Stinson, from the rocking ass band The Replacements hanging out at my favorite record store, and I'm not there to be a part of any of it! Damn. But it's cool. This has still been a most non heinous trip and I don't regret coming. At all. I convinced myself that this is still totally worth it and then the clouds open and the sun shined on us. Metaphorically, of course. It was pretty late at night.

Brady and I were kind of itching to do something last night around 11:00 pm. We tidied the cabin up a bit for Natan. You know, so he didn’t think we are the complete slobs that we may or may not be. An inaugural shot and we make our way to the lobby deck to get some more drinks. Slowly walking through, scoping the place out, this thirty-something dark skinned chick, named Allie, yells “Hey, Independents! I know those guys!” She was referring to the shirt Brady was wearing. A band t he had recently stolen from his younger brother Jeremy. They started talking and I started listening. Things were going smooth, it seemed were making a new friend. Then somewhere on down the line she mentions her husband. Who is in a band. That band just so happens to be FUCKING CANNIBAL CORPSE. The fucking Deathmetal band. Half the reason I’m trying to make a big deal out of this is because it is a big deal. This girl Allie just happens to know some small ass band Brady saw in Tulsa in 1996. And then mentions her fucking metal ass husband. And… get this. She is into, I mean like way into Richard Springthorpe (Rick Springfield’s real/Australian name.). What are the odds? Really. What are the odds? After talking about Deathmetal for a bit we grab some more drinks and head to The Onyx room where Rick is supposedly going to perform an intimate solo piano show. We wait for a few hours and becomes apparent Rick isn’t going to play. It became apparent because some cruise official walked up to the mic and made an announcement saying that Rick wouldn’t make it. Disappointed we head back to the dance club where I was a huge hit a few days ago.

I need to interject this. I mentioned “Moving Like Bernie” earlier this week. Why? Well, the other night we went to the dance club. I was drunk, and decided to start cutting rugs. The only dance I can pull off well is the goddamn Bernie dance. And I did it for a really long time. People actually dug it, it was cool. Like I said I was a hit. I was dancing like a fool. Like Frank Zappa, I… was… a… dancing… fool. And I was cracking everyone up too, which was a major plus because that was my original intention. People started moving like Bernie with me and started calling me Bernie. There might have been some chants even, I‘m not sure, I was really drunk. People remembered my face on shore and on various decks they would notice me and yell “Hey Bernie! Remember me?! Yeah!” To top it off, while I was moving like Bernie the dj pulled through like a mother fucker and played the fucking “Moving Like Bernie” song. It truly was magical.

Movin' Like Bernie

Aight, now back to last night. We hang out well into the morning again, had some more awesome talks and passed out.

Aight, now back to earlier today. We finally go to a Rick show and no surprise, there are a lot middle-aged women patiently waiting in line to see their hero. The show started with some give-aways, and a quick Rick video montage and the ladies went ape shit. This man can make the most legit of 40 something year old woman act like they did when they were seeing their pop prince for the first time. But that’s no surprise either, really. Who does this not happen to (Too cool for school Johnny Shen, maybe…)? The band started playing, the curtain went up, and Rick sounded a little shaky. Nerves perhaps? This was the last show of the last cruise, as far as I know, that he’s doing. Hmm. Whatever the cause for the shaky voice, this situation was a little too intense. This whole trip has been a little too intense. But in a good way. We ended up leaving the show about three songs in and made our way to the Lido Deck for some chicken nuggets and more life discussions (common theme of the week).

About 4 hours later we finally hit up the fine dinning that we had been signed up for but never attended, for reasons unknown to us, and it was very pleasant. I had the Veal Parmesan with a side of scalloped potatoes and a glass of Castle Rock Cabernet Sauvignon. Brady had the meat loaf… We ended dinner with a  short discussion over Ghostbusters 1 & 2. I caught up with an Australian lady named Sandy that I had met a few nights before, snapped a picture, said goodbye, and started to leave The Universe (that‘s the name of the dinning room). Just before we turned around a song which seemed to be called “Reggae Nights” started blaring from the overhead speakers and people just got up and started dancing. It was very strange. Brady, noticing how strange it was, got out his phone to start documenting. We’d had enough of the weird and turned to the elevators to go back to the cabin. Just then the man himself, Rick Sprungsteenfeld, walked past us. I convinced Brades to ask him about the 7 inch record he made and presented to Mr. Springfield the first time he saw him in concert, and seconds into the conversation Rick’s stoic look turned to a smile as he replied with what seemed to be a head nod. It was… sweet, to say the least.

I had no idea, at the time, this song was Jimmy Cliff

So here I am in the cabin on the last night of our voyage to the Caribbean, our decent into madness, our magical once in a lifetime Rick Springfield & Friends 2011 Cruise, and instead of continuing my binge drinking and trying to find the next club Rick will be for the night, I’m writing. Both Brady and I have learned a lot about each other and ourselves. From going to almost not being able to even board the boat, to having a shit time, to having an amazing time, to becoming shamen(?), it’s almost over. We did it. We climbed the fucking mountain and shat on it. We made the mountain our bitch, and met a lot of really cool people along the way.

I know, from being around people all of my life, that our trip was way different from any other person on this boat’s trip. I mean for fucks sake, I know I’ve probably mentioned this a million times by now, but we went on a Rick Springfield cruise and didn’t even finish a single Rick Springfield thing. But that’s ok, he wasn’t my only motivation for tagging along with Brady on this adventure. The overall experience was. This is something that I will remember for the rest of my life and something that I can never do again. So, there. There it is. I’m pretty sure I covered most of what I wanted to say. I’m sorry if the continuity seems a little off, but I’ve been writing this piece all day. Fuck. This took a long time.