Once ensconced in my port suite (complete with towel swan and all), I threw on a summer dress and wondered: now what? For without a drinking squad of my own, wasn't I just the sad sack imbibing at the bar alone, Barney Gumble style? Sure, a floating party is still a party, but I've come stag. What to do?
Well, drink, naturally, but on the move. I grabbed some Champagne, meandered around, located the casino, checked out the main pool, avoided the staffer in the Smurf costume, and counted down the minutes to the evening's pre-launch dance party. Grabbed another drink and dodged the Smurf again. Headed back out to the pool area and OHTHANKGOD the evening dance party had started.
Did I dance? Ummm, no, I have the moves of a disoriented manatee. Did I converse with any of the other thousand people at the party. Also, no -- but I did enjoy watching everybody! No really, it was fun. Baby steps.