Friday, April 14, 2017

Lieutenant's Log #17

April 14, 2017
Lieutenant's Log #17

I got up and out to go for an Oslo walk, but as soon as I exited the terminal, my body tugged at me. "Hey buddy, it's too cold and damp. I'd turn around if I's was you." 
I decided to listen to my body and headed back to the ship.


It's no surprise that each entertainment venue on the ship has it's own unique experiences.  Heading back to the ship in the terminal there was a troubadour (solo/singer songwriter) performing. Some of the artists on the ship perform at several locations in their daily routine. He was supplied with a nice PA system.  I was impressed at the relentless tips he was receiving. He probably makes a fortune playing in the terminal.  Later he'll be playing in the 'Donkey Pub.' 
The Pub has acoustic singerwriters in the afternoon, and louder acts in the evening. That's where King James (aka Alabama) does his thing along with a keyboardist. Interestingly, they don't do full bands in the pub. It's usually a duo or single artist acts with drum machines and prerecorded tracks. These acts are very good at what they do. The large bands play in the Disco Room.  No doubt about it, the 'Donkey Pub' and the 'Monkey Pub' (as it's named on the other ship) are the real money makers for the ship.  It's where the most beer and alcohol is consumed. Where there's alcohol, there's drunk women flashing their breast and other things for a willing accessory to partake in.  "Are you married big boy?"  "Yeah, well a lot of good that's doing me these days."  
Indeed, the musicians that play in the Pub and the Disco room do really well in tits and tips.

The Cosmopolitan Room or Manhattan Room where I play (as it's called on the other ship), is a different world.  An older clientele.  Occasionally folks are engaged in the music. Mostly it's where the blue-bloods gather and a few jazz buffs.  The women don't flash, but I've had plenty of them blow kisses at me.  Seems to me that the mating call in the pub is the smell of beer. In the Cosmopolitan room it's the smell of money.   No tips. No tits. 

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