2005

Bailey's Boat

           “Thank you for all your hard work this summer, everyone!” Bailey MacDonough said to Camp Morning Dew’s departing staff with waves aplenty. “Ms. Marsdale, good rustic cooking, like usual,” he complimented and got a grunt in response. “Mr. Jasper, thank you for putting up with the cleaning duties these last two weeks. We’ve never had that many kids with sensitive stomachs before at once,” he continued, and got a huff in response. “Heidi, Chelsea, and Brook—great job keeping the campers under control this year. I know they seem to be getting a little meaner every passing summer.”

           “I am not coming back again for ’06. This place sucks ass,” Brook shouted before hopping into his old jeep and starting its loud engine to drown out any Bailey platitudes.

           “Sorry you feel that way!” Bailey called out chirpily. “I had fun, at least.” Hearing the sound of footsteps on that old familiar parking area gravel behind him, Bailey turned to see Peggy and Robby, each still wearing their somehow-pristine khaki shorts as they carried two boxes full of left-behind objects and various articles of clothing. “Wow, lotta lost and found stuff this year, huh?” He took a peek into the one for the boys’ cabin. “Is that a Game Boy Advance in there? Someone’s definitely going to want that back.”

           “Cabins are clean, beds are made,” Robby replied. “How much of this do you think you can reunite with their owners? And are you sure you’re okay sorting it alone?”

           “I promise you, Robby, I have an excellent memory for who had what. And I’m not alone this year; Peg moved in with me, remember? If you wanna help, you can try to get in contact with all the parents this time, since the two of us will be away. Just be sure to tell them that their kids’ stuff will be waiting for them at the city community center.”

           Robby looked at the two senior counselors as they stood side-by-side, admiring the view one last time, the box of lost girls’ things snug in Peggy’s arms. “Bailey… Are you going to stop doing this every summer if you get that cruise ship job?”

           “I dunno what the future holds for either of us yet, buddy. I try not to worry about things like that. All I want to know right now is this breeze, the sunlight, and the smell of pine.” Bailey took a deep whiff. “Ahh. Here’s to Camp Morning Dew, 2005.”

           “Not too late to hang out with us on the ship, Robby!” Peggy offered. “They still have some rooms left. Closest thing we all got to, like… a space cruise, or whatever.”

           Robby sighed. “No thanks. I get seasick. And I have a few conventions, anyway.”

           “Okay, then, Robby.” Bailey smiled. “If this is my last year, you’ll be in charge.”

           Hours later, back at a small apartment in downtown Royal Valley as the sun was setting, Peggy emerged from the shower with her frizzy red hair wrapped in a towel, and saw that Bailey was looking at an album of photos taken at summer camps of the past from the edge of the bed, next to a cinderblock shelf that held his large vinyl and CD collection. They smiled at one another as she grabbed her suitcase and started packing.

           “Has that become a tradition?” she asked him and opened up her drawer full of sunglasses she’d have to choose from carefully. “A nostalgic look back after every year?”

           “Well, yes, but I already got through my counseling days album. This one, I don’t open as much. It’s from when I was a kid and going to summer camps in Oregon.”

           “Aw, those pictures are so cute. There’s just something extra special about getting to do it back in the 80s, before all the… you know, technology. At most, you might see a watch calculator. On the other hand—I don’t know if it was like this up there—when I was going to Morning Dew as a kid, all the Jason Voorhees jokes got old after the first night. Heh… Still, lots of good memories. Cruises can be fun, but they’re nothing like the outdoors and roughing it a little. But, I’ll support whatever you decide, sweetheart.”

           After staring at his excited eight-year-old self at his first ever sleep-away camp, he closed the album. “It’s a big change, but when we went on last year’s Alaskan cruise and saw how fun and festive the staff made each day feel, I knew I had to try it at least once.”

           Peggy turned around from the dresser and gave him one of her toothy grins. “I wonder what the old counselors would think about it. Kate, Min… Stan and Larry. I still miss ’em sometimes. It’s too bad that Jason got them all before we could stop him.”

           Bailey laughed and shook his head. “That’s… really more grim than it is funny.”

           “You ever talk to any of them?” Peggy wondered and started folding Hawaiian tees. “Feels like everyone except Min just dropped off the face of the Earth.”

           “Nope,” Bailey puffed out. “Hey, maybe they’re all working on the boat.”

           “Right. I bet.” Peggy suddenly looked a little worried. “It takes fifteen days just to get to Hawaii… I hope we don’t turn on each other. I’ve read some horror stories about couples who drive one another crazy to the point where they request separate rooms.”

           Bailey leapt up and gave her a reassuring hug. “Honey, that won’t happen. I’ll be working almost half the time, remember?” He chuckled. “During which you can relax.”

           “All spas and reading, I promise…” she sighed happily, and packed her ticket.

           Early the next morning, Bailey left his car at the large employee parking garage and walked with Peggy to Pier 27 in San Francisco. It was an overcast, cool day, far removed from the kind of weather most people would like to see at the start of a long cruise—but the city was certainly providing the type of atmosphere travelers would be raring to leave behind. With the barking of harbor sea lions being carried in the wind from a nearby pier, the enthusiastic lovebirds took a moment to admire the ship.

           Painted playfully across the portside bow were the letters “HJ” and happy marine life, the star of which was the cruise line’s seal mascot Happy Jack and the vessel’s name, Queen of Tides. Harbor Journey was far from being a prestige company like Viking, nor was it an owner of larger ships full of fun things like waterslides and mini-golf, which Carnival was known for. It was a middle-of-the-waterway line, which worked for Bailey.

           “Well… It looks okay, and average-sized,” Peggy said as she watched mostly staff and crew boarding, along with a few passengers who had arrived as early as possible. “Is this a good line to work for, Bailey? I don’t really know much about Harbor Journey.”

           “Everything on their website says it’s the perfect company to get your start with,” he assured her and picked their luggage off the ground after giving his arms a quick rest. “Its entertainment and hospitality division are very standard, and not too demanding.”

           “Did you happen to maybe, you know… look at anything other than the company website, Bae-Bae? It’s not like they’d ever say anything bad about themselves.”

           “Oh, Peg, I’m sure they’re an honest sort. Look at that smile on Happy Jack!”

           The two checked in at the cruise terminal, where Bailey got his staff badge, their bags were x-rayed, and they got to use the employee entrance together. Now knowing where to report to duty, and having studied a layout of the large ship back at home, Bailey led Peggy into the multi-story atrium, lit up by a glass ceiling. The heart of the vessel and designed to sell the experience to the passengers, the two spun around a few times in the middle of the polished tile floor and soaked in the colors and venues.

           “Do we at least have some time to walk the length of the ship together?” Peggy asked. “It’s a little nicer than I expected, I guess, but I’m afraid I’ll get lost.”

           “Sorry, honey—I have to be in the staff hall in about a half-hour, get oriented, learn the ropes, and… Well, I’m still not sure how much I’ll be working the first day.”

           “I know…” She groaned. “I keep thinking this is a vacation for both of us.”

           After reminding her again that they’d still have time for a little bit of fun on the long journey—and that one of his co-workers would always be around to get her to the places she was looking for—Bailey walked her down the quiet-for-now corridors lined with blue and purple carpet. As dictated by regulations, the hallways were wide, plain, mostly clear of any wall décor, and the metal doors were heavy and watertight.

           Their room was a short distance away and on the starboard side of the ship. It was on the smaller side, with a full-sized bed and a single window that currently showed some of the city skyline. Tired after having left Royal Valley in the very early morning, Peggy fell onto the mattress with her arms spread and let out a large yawn.

           “You didn’t have to pay extra to get a room with a window, you know,” she told Bailey. “I’ll be spending most of my time on the deck, and you’ll only be here at night.”

           “Eh, if you’re gonna be on a ship for a whole month, sleeping in a windowless room might start to feel suffocating,” Bailey said with a shrug. “Besides, I got it half-off since I’m working onboard.” He gave her a quick kiss, and took a deep breath. “Well, honey, this is where I leave you for now. Don’t get yourself sent to the brig, okay?”

           “Mm-hm…” she murmured with her eyes already closed. “And I’ll try not to bother you while you’re out there keeping people… peppy. Or energized? Whatever…”

           Briefly feeling a longing to just sleep for a couple hours after falling into a comfortable bed with Peggy at his side, Bailey readied himself for a day of work with the same quick burst of exercise he did every dawn at summer camp, then used the room’s tiny bathroom to change into his provided mostly-white staff clothes and headed out.

           A happy, eager, and studious student at college, counselor at camp, and employee at any of the many temp jobs he filled back home, Bailey felt ready to go as he sauntered down the halls and took each turn with confidence. One of the bigger “staff only” doors was right where it was supposed to be, and he did a final quick check of his clothes and hair before going inside, fully expecting to see a room full of young men and women thrilled to begin their journey to Hawaii, and enjoy the first day of entertaining—and keeping entertained—the couple thousand needy passengers on the Queen of Tides.

           Wearing a smile, he opened the door, ready to greet his co-workers. But the staff staging room was drab, its carpet was stained, and the only furniture were chairs in rough condition that had likely been pulled out of dining room service long ago.

           He was among the first to arrive, there being only four others in the room, each of them lazing about on the loose chairs that weren’t arranged in any way. Two of the girls were chatting idly, one read an issue of People magazine, and the one other guy that was present so far, his shirt untucked, was playing his foldable Game Boy Advance SP under a dead ceiling light. Upon Bailey’s arrival, they all looked up at the fresh meat.

           Keeping his composure, Bailey reinforced his smile and said, “Hi, everyone! Um, my name’s Bailey MacDonough, and I’m the new guy. Or… one of them, maybe.”

           The four, which Bailey could tell by now were veterans, glanced at each other and let out dry laughs. The man who seemed to be about his age folded up his Game Boy, pocketed it, stood up with a stretch, stuffed his shirt back into his pants, and came over to do some sizing-up. It wasn’t a contest, but he looked unimpressed.

           “Don’t use up all that positive energy at once, Bailey,” he advised. “It’s gonna be a long day. Have you worked a cruise ship before? Or been on a Harbor Journey boat?”

           “Neither of those,” Bailey answered as other coordinators started filtering in to join them. “Took a cruise to Alaska last year, though. One of those quieter, laid-back ones for the ‘serious traveler.’ The girlfriend liked it, but I told her that the next time we do it, let’s make it more fun! Then I thought, ‘hey, why not help make the fun?’”

           “… Uh-huh,” the guy replied, seemingly unmoved by Bailey’s sentiments. “Fun. Well, anyway, name’s Irwin,” he said and offered a sloppy handshake that Bailey happily accepted. “Just maybe tamp that down a little; I was serious when I said to conserve it.”

           Bailey still didn’t quite connect with what Irwin was getting at, but asked anyway, “When do we get started? Do I get a schedule of where I need to be each hour, or…”

           “Yeah, the director will give it to you. Orientation for the newbies only takes two hours, and then you guys usually get sent up to the deck until we leave port.”

           “W-wait, hold on a sec, Irwin. We got events before we even depart? I thought the passengers would’ve wanted to focus more on getting to their rooms and relaxing. And only two hours of training? Is that really enough time to learn what I need to?”

           Irwin scoffed. “It’s not a deep and rich job, dude. We get people hyped and sort of… ‘make’ them have fun. The guys a pay grade above us take care of the rest. And, yes, there really are passengers that want to attend as many events as they can from the very start. I don’t get it, either, but that’s just the way some of them are.”

           “Tell him about the seal suit!” one of the girls called out as the room filled up.

           “Right…” Irwin sighed. “Word of warning, friendo, if you aren’t showing enough pep, you’ll get put on mascot duty. Usually for the rest of your shift, too. Someone needs to be in there anyway, so you can always volunteer and earn some brownie points with the rest of the squad, or if you’re having an off day, just… get ahead of getting called out by the director.” He leaned in and whispered. “Guy’s kind of a hard-ass.”

           Among the last of the roughly forty team members of the “fun crew” to walk in was a shorter, stockier man with almost no hair. He was the best-dressed of everyone and had a clipboard, so there was no question of his authority. Bailey, and the other six recent recruits who stood out in various ways, followed the veterans’ leads and formed an organized single-file lineup so the man in charge could see all his underlings at once.

           “Morning, everyone,” he said and surveyed the team with judging eyes. After clearing his throat, he pressed his clipboard against his chest and addressed them. “To those of you returning from a previous tour—listen up just as much as the new staff. The 2004 Hawaii run was suboptimal,” was how he began, and Bailey, now getting an early sense of what he had gotten himself into, began to drop his smile. “People, I want you all to hold yourself to a higher standard. Think of the ‘cast’ at Disneyland, who come to work every morning with one goal: keep the guests happy. That’s why they’re with us. Stuff your own feelings deep, deep down. They don’t want to see doubt, or fear, or anything else but joy and encouragement on your faces. They always come first.”

           One of the few thirty-plus team members replied, “Boss, ya know, you mentioned Disneyland last year, too, but I didn’t say it back then—most of them get to be in costumes all day and don’t have to, like… wear out their mouth muscles and stuff?”

           The director scowled. “Are you gonna give me shit again, Maxwell? If you want a hairy bug-eyed head over your own, I’ll gladly stick you in Happy Jack the whole voyage. Any other complaints? Jesus, I swear… How hard is to feign happiness for eight hours a day? All you gotta do is think about favorite memories. Ahem, anyway…” He approached the senior member of the staff, a forty-something woman at the end, and gave her the clipboard full of schedule copies to pass around. “Here are your assignments. To the seven new people, you can call me Mr. Stricherd. Stella here and I will get you situated and show you how we do things on the Queen of Tides. Smiles on, everyone!”

           After getting a rundown of the basics and how things worked on the ship, and the half-hour lunch break that followed, Bailey, Irwin, and three of their coworkers emerged onto the deck, under an even grayer sky. Fog had rolled in and blanketed the city, but the weather didn’t stop a couple dozen passengers—mostly on the older side—from showing up in the space between the pool and one of the open bars, which had a tender already whipping up daiquiris and rum punches for a few early-starters.

           “You ready?” Irwin asked Bailey at a minute to noon. “This is just a ‘warm-up’ event to get the more ‘hardcore’ people hyped for… the next hundred events.”

           “So, like… think 1980s exercise tapes?” Bailey replied as his eyes briefly fell onto the main gangway where a line of passengers was slowly boarding.

           “You don’t really have to ‘draw on’ past experiences, man. Again, nothing is that deep. Like the boss said, think happy thoughts to keep yourself smiling and excited.”

           “And don’t start judging how people dress or act, or think about things like how they got here, or what they’re doing with their lives,” one of the girls added. “It’s almost impossible to keep up the enthusiasm with stuff like that swirling in your head.”

           Irwin’s digital watch beeped, and he bounced on his heels for a moment before wiping his hands across his face and then revealing a forced smile. “Okay, let’s get to it.”

           Bailey put on his best one next, which always got called “infectious” when he was a kid, and shadowed the vets as they left their hiding spot and joined the group waiting to move their mostly geriatric bodies, even as some held drinks.

           “Hi, everyone! Welcome aboard!” Irwin exclaimed vibrantly and used a small remote to pipe in tropical vacation music through mounted speakers. “If you’re here for the Sunny Shores Startup Stretch, you’re in the right place! Now, let’s get fired up!”

           “Let’s wake up those muscles!” one of the girls added and started doing what could be considered aerobics in a senior care center. “We got a long voyage ahead of us, so let’s enjoy this lovely view of San Francisco while we can! There you go, feel the burn!”

           Bailey cringed a little inside upon seeing the mismatch of enthusiasm between his coworkers and the attendees—and noticed that some of the new arrivals going by were pointing, staring, or rolling their eyes. Still, he knew what was in the job description.

           “It’s so exciting, isn’t it?” Bailey pepped up the group with his energy and kept up as big a smile as he could while he did a few twists. “Wow! What a cruise this’ll be!”

           Five hours of running to and running pep at events later, exhaustion began to set into Bailey’s bones, and he needed a quick bathroom break in whatever was nearby. He reluctantly took a Tylenol and rubbed some Icy Hot on his jaw muscles before returning to the corridor, but he couldn’t even start on his way to the next thing without getting accosted by a pair of passing hotshot crewmen in their much fancier uniforms.

           “Hey! Bud! That’s a crew only head! If you’re with hospitality, you use the public rooms,” the taller of the two said as his friend laughed and back-slapped his arm.

           “Sorry,” Bailey replied timidly. “Still getting used to the lay of the ship…”

           The two mocking both him and his entire department some more as they headed off, Bailey let out an overworked huff and went on his way to his last assignment of the day. He was able to take just a quick glance of the bay in the distance as the sun began to set, the Golden Gate Bridge still just barely visible above the swath of mist and fog.

           But, he only had a moment to spare and a schedule to keep. He returned to the interior, navigated past some passengers getting tipsy at a bar and a band playing nearby, went past a few doors, turned at the coatroom, and made it into a party hall—where his stomach leapt into his throat. The festivities had already begun, meaning he must’ve been late to arrive. And that always made him feel quite disappointed in himself.

           The room had a disco dance floor and three spinning mirror balls, and Bee Gees music was playing at full blast from the DJ table towards the front. Half the people in the room had drinks, and most were dancing either off or on the floor itself, where four of Bailey’s team members covered the corners and kept people moving at all costs.

           “Hey!” he tried to say to one of the girls over the noise, but didn’t have the kind of voice that stood out. “Hey, excuse me! Um, where do I need to be for this one?”

           “What?!” she shouted back, wearing a smile all the while that was a little creepy.

           “I think I got here a little late! If all the corners are covered, where do I go?!”

           “Oh! We’re full!” she said as the song switched to some terrible modern remix of Stayin’ Alive. “You sure you’re in the right place? Stricherd doesn’t make many mistakes!”

           “Isn’t this the 70s Night dance?!” Bailey pushed his lungs to their capacity.

           “No! This is Disco Night! Common mistake! The other one plays everything that’s not disco! Party hall back at the stern—starts at 5:30! If you hurry, you can make it!”

           “… Awesome,” Bailey gasped out. “Thanks! Guess I need to get… going.”

           Bailey arrived at the larger venue on the other side of the ship out of breath but just in time, getting through the doors right as the three-man cover band started the night with some Led Zeppelin. Most of the people at this event were as old as those enjoying disco elsewhere, but there were certainly more beards among them.

           “Hey! Bailey!” Irwin, already mindlessly inventing some new dance that got others to do the same, called out over the music. “I was wondering where you were!”

           “W-where… should I go…?” Bailey panted.

           Irwin turned his already big smile into a smirk and replied, “You went to the 5:15 disco thing first, didn’t you? Someone does it every year. Well, bad news—since you were last to show, that means you got stage duty.” He gestured toward an empty spot waiting to be filled by the rockers on the small wooden platform surrounded by buzzed revelers. “You gotta go up there and dance alongside the band! Just stay out of their way!”

           Bailey looked at the stage, and back to Irwin with a faltering smile. “You’re not just hazing the new guy, right? I really have to do that?! Won’t the band hate it?”

           “Dead serious, man. And, yeah, they don’t like it, but they don’t call the shots.”

           “Oh, for crying…” Bailey wiped the sweat from his forehead and nodded. “All right, fine. I’ve made a fool of myself and laughed about it later before. No biggie!”

           “See? That’s the spirit! It’ll really fire up these needy—I mean, the crowd!”

           To the rather appropriate tune of Good Times Bad Times, Bailey pushed through the other dancers and swayers, leapt onto the platform, and got into the groove for the benefit of entertainment. The hairy guy on the electric guitar looked at him with disgust, but when the two briefly locked eyes, there seemed to be some mutual understanding that this was how the company ran things, and, yeah, it kind of sucked sometimes.

           “Sorry I’m a little late, Peg,” Bailey huffed as he joined her at one of the better restaurants on the ship, where she was already halfway through a complimentary meal. “I didn’t realize I had to fill out a form at the end of my shift… listing all of the things I did during the day and ‘improved’ upon. I wasn’t even sure what to write.”

           She smiled cheekily and swirled her rosé. “Oh, I caught glimpses of you guys all through the day—I know what the job’s like now. So, what’d you put? ‘I learned how to smile better?’ You look wiped… Want a bite of this while you wait for a menu?”

           “Definitely—thanks, honey.” Bailey graciously took the bit of steak at the end of her fork. “You look lovely. And not just the clothes; you’re glowing, darling.”

           “Mm-hm, well, that’s what happens after three spa treatments and some needed R&R. I didn’t go to any of the… things your team works at and hypes up, but I did my share of passing through and taking peeks. Not my scene, Bae-Bae. I dunno how you do it. How does your body and soul not hurt by the end of the day?”

           Bailey smiled one last time for the evening as he took a menu from the table’s server, his face muscles now all fatigued. “By turning your brain off as much as you can until all that remains is one’s own eternal optimism,” he answered. “You know, I kind of got the feeling that the others… Ah, never mind, I’m not going to gossip.”

           Peggy bit into some roasted asparagus and looked out their window, showing only an endless expanse of darkness past the glass. “It’s spooky being out here, isn’t it? On the Alaskan cruise, we mostly hugged the coast and you could at least see cities and towns on the horizon sometimes, but out here, in the middle of the ocean…”

           “Do you have thalassophobia, honey?” Bailey then gave his order to the server as he handed back the menu, “Water, rum and Coke, and the chicken parm. Please.”

           Peggy let out one of her little snorts once they were alone again. “Okay, tell me who doesn’t have a phobia of the deep ocean? Who enjoys deep, dark, cold water full of abyssal horrors that want to drag you down and sacrifice you to the old ones?”

           “Does it help having a spa that floats over all of that?”

           “Yeah, a little.” Peggy leaned back and finished her steak. “Hope you get time to relax, too. At least we still have the evening, right? Imagine doing… all that at midnight.”

           Following a well-earned just-fine dinner, Bailey and Peggy took the long way to their room and enjoyed the late evening breeze, passing by the pool deck where the day had begun. Those on the pep team’s later shift were out in force, getting people partying properly as if the previous twenty-four events were all just the warm-up.

           “My workdays start at nine in the morning from here out,” Bailey noted, staring at the poor saps whose schedules had just started. “Hopefully I can keep this up…”

           “Bae, I’ve seen you genuinely sad or exhausted maybe three times. You’re a natural at…” she stared at one of his coworkers dancing foolishly, “whatever this classifies as.”

           The rest of the week began with the alarm clock going off at eight the next morning, which made Peggy only briefly stir in her sleep before she got back to snoring. Bailey got up groggily, peeked at the rising sun past the window’s curtain, and then went into the closet-sized bathroom to shower and get ready for a new day of fun. And so it would also go for the next six days, which soon blended together.

           He quickly learned most of his coworkers’ names, at least those on the early shift with him, and even some of those of the passengers, as well. Many of which seemed to attend every single event possible, as if they felt like not doing so meant they had wasted some part of their ticket’s cost. In contrast, there were also many passengers Bailey never saw outside of passing them in the halls or on the deck.

           While he smiled and danced, or helped host a trivia or game event, his mind—which didn’t need to be used in full during most of these types of social gatherings—had time to wander. Who came up with all these things? he’d think. Is there a central theme binding them together? Or is Harbor Journey just trying to make time pass by as fast as possible so boredom and mutiny won’t set in? Are there really so many people that need constant entertainment?

           He didn’t voice these questions out loud, of course. Who was he to bring up the efficacy and purpose of some “fun formula” the company had concocted? The events ranged from 1950s trivia, 1960s throwback guessing games, 1970s film matinees, 1980s vintage glam fests with borrowable outfits, and 1990s music jams, along with everything imaginable in between. Getting to attend the movies in the ship’s little theater was the best; they left him relegated to serving popcorn, sodas, and other snacks from a counter dolled up to look like a concession booth. Which he worked with a smile, of course, whenever a customer came up. Otherwise, he enjoyed whatever classic was on screen.

           On one of those six days, after leaving a sparsely-attended arts and crafts session that had passengers gluing shells and desiccated sea life to wooden boxes, Bailey was on his way to his next posting when he ran into one of his coworkers in the giant, slightly dirty Happy Jack mascot suit, right outside the game center that catered to kids and teens. He’d seen the costume before, but only from a distance or in the background; this was the first time he’d seen the huge seal with its big pleading plastic eyes up close.

           “Oh. Hey, Bailey,” the human inside said. “So. Where are you off to?”

           “Er… I’m ushering the hip-hop dance performance at the theater… You?”

           The seal’s head turned to the game room, whose attendees currently showed the most interest in the four-participant round of Super Smash Bros. Melee being played on the mounted plasma screen from a sheltered Nintendo GameCube. Adolescents of various ages sat on the couch, its armrests, or up on the back of it—or were beating it up to get rid of excess energy in the glow of electronic bliss that at least gave their parents a break.

           “I just wasn’t feeling it today…” Happy Jack sighed. “But the discs that get played are on a schedule. I forgot they’re doing the fighting game right now, and they’ll probably beat the crap out of me next. But, boss says I gotta make the rounds.”

           “Geez, sorry about that… um…”

           “It’s Maxwell, dude. Can’t you recognize me?” he asked dryly.

           “Well, look on the bright side—the suit provides cushioning, doesn’t it?”

           Maxwell couldn’t really shrug as a seal, so he instead threw his arms up with indignity before adding, “You’re lucky; theater shows always run fifteen minutes past everything else to give the audience more time to get seated. You get a quick break.”

           “Yeah, I saw that. Hey, I’m sure your luck will turn around after today, too!”

           Maxwell huffed. “It’s just boundless enthusiasm with you, isn’t it? Well. Here I go.” He opened the door, and Bailey watched through the window as the kids turned to him the moment he said in a silly voice, “Hey boys and girls! Are ya havin’ fun?”

           Evidently they were, as they promptly paused the game and ran over to pummel the seal suit with their little fists like it was an unspoken tradition aboard the vessel.

           Bailey winced a bit as Maxwell tried to laugh off the attack and press on through his script. Maybe he could have stayed and had the guy’s back somehow, but Bailey was also beginning to feel the onset of burnout, and needed any quiet moment he could find—so he did a quick stop-in at the ship’s library on the way to the stern.

           “Peg?” he quietly exclaimed upon seeing her, all alone and browsing the few full stacks of books the place had to its name. “Hey, darling! What’r’ya doin’ in here?”

           Holding three books in her hands, she turned to him with a grin. “Restocking. I might get through the whole collection before we arrive.” She looked around the rather minimalist but also cozy self-service book hideaway. “Nice little sanctuary, isn’t it? The school library was always where I went to get away from all the noise and arguing.”

           “It’s… not bad, sure. All those spa visits wearing you down, huh?”

           She laughed gingerly and used the kiosk to checkout properly, even if most people probably did not. “If I get one more facial treatment, it might begin to melt. How’s work? I’m guessing you’re not here to hype up a quiet reading session.”

           “I actually have a few minutes before I need to report to the theater, so…” Bailey took a seat at the room’s only table, then took out his iPod and earbuds. “As much as I love you, I’m gonna get in some zen-time. We shouldn’t really be talking now, anyway.”

           Peggy rolled her eyes, and joined him at the table anyway. Without needing any words to make the request, Bailey gave her one of the earbuds, and they had a welcome albeit brief and muted thrashing session… to a little bit of Slayer and Metallica.

           “Oh, hello, Bailey!” a kind older woman said to him as he passed by on his way to the theater a few minutes later. “How are you? I was so happy that you got assigned to the bingo game yesterday… You’re a ray of sunshine that these long voyages need.”

           “That’s very nice of you, Mrs. Stubaker!” Bailey replied, and kept walking.

           “Yo, MacDonough!” a real dude-bro of a guy who seemed to exclusively own shorts, printed tees, and sandals called him out next, further down the hall. “I only show up to things ironically, to make fun of ’em, but you’re bulletproof from all that, my man!”

           “Oh, um. Thanks!” Bailey said and responded with his own pair of finger pistols.

           “Mr. MacDonough, I was hoping to see you again!” a youngish mother said just outside of the theater doors, as her tween emo-curious daughter stood at her side with hair covering one of her eyes. “It was so kind of you to go out of your way in finding her lost earring a couple days ago. Come on, honey—say thank you to the nice man now.”

           “… Thanks…” the girl muttered softly and avoided eye contact.

           “Aw, I was glad to help. I am pretty good at finding things. It was a really cool earring, too. Are you wearing them again today, or did you change it up?”

           Bailey’s ability to break through any foggy barrier of ennui proving itself once more, the girl managed a meager smile and parted her hair to reveal the dark purple jewelry underneath. Bailey gave her a confidence-boosting grin in return.

           “So, do you both like hip-hop, or is one of you dragging the other to this?”

           “I grew up with it when it was new,” the mom replied. “It’s… growing on her.”

           Once the theater doors opened, Bailey led the way and said, “Bonding time!”

           The transition from this moment to the next is like a hard jump cut. Bailey goes from being adored by the passengers that have gotten to know him, to showing up at morning orientation with the seal costume tucked under one arm as his other held the aquatic mammal’s giant head. When he walked in and all eyes turned to him, it was also easily noticeable that, for once, his mouth very nearly did not have an upward curve.

           “Whoa, Bailey, you okay?” Maxwell, closet to the door, was the first to ask.

           “Eh, I’m fine,” Bailey tried to assure him. “I just… woke up this morning and realized I must’ve dropped my iPod somewhere yesterday, so I’m a little disappointed about that. My cheek muscles could use a rest, anyway, so I went ahead and volunteered before someone else got put on seal duty… Um, Maxwell? You look kinda nervous.”

           “Uh, heh, yeah… About your iPod… Irwin found it in the theater during cleanup last night.” He moved aside so Bailey could see the handful of team members in one of the room’s corners, gathered together as Irwin spun the player’s scroll wheel. “I told him he should stop looking through it, but… Good thing you got the laser engraving, huh?”

           Now a little miffed, Bailey put the day’s work clothes on a chair and came over, right as Irwin showed the other curious onlookers another surprising album.

           “Oh, Bailey. Um, here you go,” he said sheepishly and handed it over. “I was just making sure it wasn’t, like… busted or had corrupted data. Or something.”

           After swiping and pocketing his device that now had a low battery, Bailey said with the mildest of agitation, “I appreciate you finding it, Irwin, but I really don’t like it when people go poking around in my private stuff. It’s a form of violation.”

           “Uh, sorry, man,” he replied as the others got up and left to idle away elsewhere. “I was just a little surprised to see all the, you know… metal and hard rock on there.”

           “What’s so surprising about that? I happen to like the genres! And cosmic horror, too, for that matter! They’re good emotional outlets, you know? A lot of metalheads are pretty well-adjusted, because we don’t keep things bottled up… like most of you all do.”

           Irwin scowled. “You know, Bailey, this is your first tour on this boat, and you’ve been really upstaging us with your little Pollyanna routine. When you rise up that quickly and make the rest of us feel like crap, you should expect a little bit of ragging.”

           “I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s not a routine. This is just the way I am.”

           Most of the eyes in the room suddenly stared at him, and Irwin looked surprised.

           “Well. Ho-lee shit… I was starting to suspect, but damn, there it is…” Irwin raised his voice and told the others, “You hear this, everyone? We actually got a unicorn in our midst. A genuine optimist. I guess you’re going to go far in this biz, Bailey. Stella and even Stricherd might think you’re gunning for their positions. Isn’t that something…”

           Bailey blinked a few times and turned towards his coworkers. “W-wait… None of you are the optimistic type? You just… know how to fake smiles and joy that well? Oh… Oh, that’s so sad. Can’t you see all the good in the world? I know things can get tough sometimes, but we’re still living in one of the best eras in human history.”

           There were some chuckles and scoffing sounds amid Bailey’s peers, and Irwin crossed his arms and huffed, “Nice sentiment, dude, but most people don’t compare. It’s not like we’re all depressed or whatever… Well, except maybe for Maxwell. Sorry, man.”

           “It’s okay,” Maxwell muttered as he tugged at his shirt. “I’m managing.”

           “Anyway, passengers keep recognizing you and heaping compliments; most of us are vets, and we barely get any of that. I… don’t even know what to say. Not like you can tone down… you, huh?” Irwin groaned. “Sorry for being an ass. Look, I’ll wear the suit today to make up for it. Someone who only knows happiness shouldn’t be stuck in it.”

           As Mr. Stricherd arrived for the daily briefing and to hand out schedules, Bailey looked at the deflated seal skin and replied, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m still feeling a little off today, but now it’s from hearing about how most of you see the glass as half empty.”

           Within the darkness of the cumbersome Happy Jack outfit, Bailey looked at the door that led into the game room through the peepers and took one last deep breath in preparation for what he was about to undertake. As soon as he waddled in, the eight kids inside looked away from a game of Mario Kart Double Dash!! and towards a target that they really wanted to shoot red shells at or ram off the road.

           “Hi, boys and girls!” Bailey said, his voice a cross between Goofy and, for some reason, a stereotypical New Jersey guy. “Having some early morning fun, are we?”

           “Get him!” the youngest boy in the room was the first to say, and led the charge.

           Now surrounded by tykes kicking and beating on him, Bailey tried to maintain composure, and managed to get out, “Ouchies! Why are you hurting Ol’ Happy Jack?”

           Incredibly, they stopped—and looked around like they hadn’t considered this.

           “I didn’t want to go on a long boat trip,” one of the younger girls confided when it was her turn to talk. “Every day is the same out here. Mom and Dad go off to do, like, a hundred things, and they only take me to a few of them. I get sooo bored on my own!”

           Happy Jack nodded from his spot in the floor circle that had formed on the arcade-style carpet, the lights from a half-dozen old cabinets filling the room. “It’s good to get that out, isn’t it, Leigh? Have you tried telling your parents how you feel?”

           As the other kids looked at her empathetically, she shook her head. “I don’t want them to feel bad, because they spent lots of money to do this vacation…”

           “That’s understandable—and it’s good that you consider the feelings of others. But, you know, they might end up feeling bad at the end of it anyway, if they realize that you didn’t have a fun time. You should be honest and tell them you want to do more together. I bet you’re getting tired of this game room, right? Okay, Jaeden, you’re up.”

           The roughly nine-year-old boy in the group grumbled, “The ocean makes me feel queasy. My parents know that, and they still make me go out on their boat back in Oakland, just because Dad paid so much money for it! And then they drag me onto a stupid long cruise ship trip when I would’a been just fine flying to Hawaii!”

           Happy Jack’s big dumb eyes stared into the kid’s soul, and the voice from his unmoving mouth replied, “It would feel like this takes a big chunk out of your summer break, huh? I’m sorry you aren’t having much fun, Jaeden. Tell your friends when you get home, and hopefully they’ll pack in lots of activities to make up for it! On nice, solid ground. Finally, Freddy, how are you doing? Do you still wanna beat on poor Ol’ Jack?”

           The little boy who first instigated the assault shifted his crossed legs nervously and said shyly, “I’m a little better now after listening to all that stuff, I guess… Um, why are you being so nice to us today, Happy Jack? You usually try to make us have more fun, or take pictures with you, or give us high-fives instead of listening… and stuff.”

           “Don’t be stupid, Freddy,” his older cousin ridiculed him. “It’s a guy in a suit. Only a different one than usual. He’s probably a therapy person or something.”

           “Now, Eunice,” the seal replied. “I’m the same Happy Jack as always. Today, I’m just giving you guys a chance to do some of the talking.” He stood up and stretched. “It was nice meeting everyone, but I gotta get going. To cheer up more people! Hoo-hoo!”

           The kids smiled and waved as Jack left—a few asking that he visit tomorrow.

           “Bailey!” Peggy waved him over from a corner table in the deck’s outdoor Tiki-themed restaurant, where fake torches with fans made red and orange fabric ‘burn.’

           His back aching, Bailey smiled and worked his way through the crowd to join her, as a nearby steel drum band played reggae and ska. This was a special dinner; for once, they could enjoy a sunset together on the ocean thanks to fortuitous scheduling.

           “Hi, Pegs,” Bailey said, and only noticed the rum punch already waiting for him once he had sat down. “Aw! You ordered that for me? I could use it… Urk…”

           Peggy frowned worriedly. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you got hurt at work today! This was supposed to be our nicest dinner, since they let you out an hour ‘early’ because of the midday time zone change… Is it your back? Is it bad?”

           “Oh, it’s nothing.” He settled in and took a long sip. “I was the seal for most of the day, and the suit’s heavier than I expected. But it actually wasn’t all that bad… I got to host a little talk-it-out session with the kids, like I get to do at camp sometimes. So… what about you? If it’s okay to say so, you’ve looked a little… bored the past few days.”

           She smirked softly as she rested on an arm. “I just think I’m about ready to get onto land again. I know you guys got it rough, but I have no idea how seasoned travelers do this for two weeks. I’m getting cabin fever. Even when I spend all day on the deck.”

           As he took a menu, Bailey reminded her, “It’ll be just a few more days, honey.”

           The next morning started rough. A storm had blown in overnight, and Bailey woke up to rocking; Peg was definitely sleeping in today. Conditions worsened by the time he made it to his team’s meeting room, and when he saw Mr. Stricherd already inside and the veterans mostly keeping a watchful eye on the weather through the windows, Bailey realized that they must’ve been waiting for a certain announcement.

           “Oh, Bailey,” Maxwell said upon noticing him, and walked over on wobbly legs. “Irwin called in sick today. Not from all this—he’s got the stomach and legs for this sort of thing. We’re just waiting for the inevitable here before our schedules get finalized. I got a feeling you might be filling in for him and helping me with the art auction today.”

           “Art auction?” Bailey replied, already feeling bad things in his gut. “I’ve seen the stuff they got in the gallery. It’s pretty awful. And this is coming from a guy who works with summer campers that somehow hadn’t painted or drawn pictures before.”

           “Yeah, I know, but we need the more… able-bodied people to help with it, since it involves carrying the, uh… ‘art,’ and putting it on display for the bidders.”

           Suddenly, but not surprisingly, the seldom-used shipwide PA system came on after an alert tone and a woman’s calming voice announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, due to today’s inclement weather, the captain has advised to cancel all outdoor events until further notice. Alternative indoor activities will be scheduled shortly. Thank you.”

           “And there it is,” Stricherd said. “I was fully expecting that, and already revised today’s assignments. Stella will hand them out now with complimentary Dramamine.”

           “Boss, wouldn’t most passengers just want to take it easy today?” asked a rookie.

           “Peh, you’d think so, but too many are insistent on ‘getting their money’s worth and beyond’ that they’d demand we keep providing entertainment. We’re like the mail service; rain or shine, selling ‘fun’ is what Harbor Journey is about. So… get out there.”

           As the most senior member of the team, it turned out that auctioneering was one of Stella’s duties, and she certainly had the voice and tenacity for it as she sold off the art pieces that the fifty or so prospective buyers had tagged as something they had interest in. One by one, Bailey, Maxwell, and two others plucked prints and paintings from the walls, brought them over as they tried to keep from tripping in the swells, and put them on display on the easel that was nicer than anything it held. Around half the artwork had stereotypical tropical or island themes, often including depictions of alcohol or chairs on the beach. Another quarter was commercial piffle from every category imaginable. The rest were weird, semi-experimental things that usually tried too hard to be original.

           “And sold to the lucky gentleman in the hat,” Stella said, and gave a depiction of starfish playing poker with seashell chips a farewell glance. “A lovely piece, if I do say so.” She pointed at Bailey, who again tried to power through his nausea and lugged over one of the strangest and most tacky paintings he’d ever seen. Even Stella had to give it a double take after it was set into place. “Now, here we have a, uh… Well, it’s showing fruits and vegetables up in the clouds over a beach scene. It’s titled… ‘All Produce Goes to Heaven.’ Hooo… That’s just beautiful, isn’t it? Bidding starts at sixty dollars.”

           “Bailey, you feeling okay?” Maxwell asked as he returned to the wall, near the next tagged piece that had flowers, a pineapple, and a banana on a reflective surface.

           Bailey forced something back down and burped out, “Not really…”

           Maxwell looked at the two pieces by him, one a heavy Photoshop job featuring a pile of license plates and a wolf on top of it that was howling at a flying eagle; the other, a bizarrely pretentious work in neutrals of a young girl crying on the floor of her empty bedroom with one angel wing attached to her back, and the other broken in her arms… as an equally sad clown inexplicably looked in on her from the doorway.

           He then asked thoughtfully, “Is it the ship or the art? I got tips for seasickness.”

           “I, uh… I think maybe both things at once, actually… I… I feel really weird…” Bailey lurched forward, and unwittingly recalled the kids who had thrown up a lot at camp. And all the other ones who had similar incidents over the years. “Oh, that’s not good…” he grunted and felt a dry-heave coming on. “S-sorry. I… I gotta…”

           Unable to hold it in any longer, Bailey ran off towards the nearest bathroom—the last thing he heard was a work buddy having his back as Maxwell called out after him, “Don’t sweat it, man! I’ll cover for you. Happens to the best of us!”

           “My poor Bae-Bae…” Peggy said with a sigh later that evening as they took a stroll around the much quieter upper deck, the ocean much calmer and only kissed by cooling drizzle at this point. “I’m so sorry that happened to you—having to see all that ‘art…’” she said with a cheeky snort, earning herself an elbow nudge. “No, but seriously, if you really did return to work after that, I hope it wasn’t because they forced you.”

           “Nah. I felt better after a few minutes of, uh… you know. The auction was over by the time I got back, and then I helped with an arts and crafts thing with the kids. I think they recognized my voice from when I visited them as Jack… Probably my pleasantries, too. I could tell that I really encouraged their creativity with, well… recyclables. I would say most of them made better stuff than what I saw in the gallery, though.”

           Peggy grinned. “You’re good with kids, Bailey—I keep telling you that! Every year at camp, maybe we have a few ‘edgy’ ones that might get irritated by your happy-go-lucky nature, but I bet they at least appreciate the patience you show them. I know you wish you had more people growing up that would listen to you, what with being tormented by your older brother and sister all the time. That’s worth more than you may realize.”

           “You really think so…?” Bailey stopped when he saw someone smoking nearby.

           “Is that Irwin?” Peggy asked, eyeing him in the designated area all by himself.

           “I think so… Hold on a sec, Peg. I’ll check on him real quick.” She was fine with a moment alone in the misty rain, and as Bailey approached the member of his team he hadn’t seen all day, he asked, “Hey, Irwin—you feeling better? Missed you today.”

           His hands in his jacket pockets, Irwin turned to him and replied, “You… missed me? Wow. Haven’t had people tell me that very often. Feels good, I guess. Max told me you got put on ‘art’ duty today and the stuff made you vom. Hey, I get it.”

           “It wasn’t the art that…” Bailey chuckled and shook his head. “You okay?”

           “I really needed a day off. You just got me… thinking about things, and I had to get some time alone. Everyone likes you, man. The staff, the passengers—hell, I haven’t even seen any of the crew guys make fun of you recently.” Irwin leaned back against the railing, noticing Peggy as he did so. “Your girlfriend over there chatted with me a few times, too. Wanted to see what we thought of you, and told me not to tell you. Heh… She really loves ya, Bailey. You’re lucky. But you’re also too good for this work, bud.”

           “Too good? Come on, I just started—and it’s not like I’m… I dunno, a prodigy.”

           “No, I mean, you’re too good. Do you really want to waste your endless optimism on a silly boat? In a few years, it might not be so endless. I’ve been doing this for eight. Er, just during summer—my story isn’t that sad.” He barely grinned, but his eyes grew distant. “As a kid, I wanted to be in the merchant marine, like my dad. But I never put the effort in, and eventually wound up here. I used to see this job as a ‘punishment’ for not, like, trying harder. But I’m the only person actually keeping me on this ship…”

           “Well, Irwin, it’s not too late to pursue something you’re more passionate about.”

           “Ya see? That’s what you’re good at. Talking to people, making them feel better. You got the talent for this, but where’s it lead? Becoming a Mr. Stricherd in ten years? I’m just saying; you got gifts too rare for this scene. Where… are you from, anyway?”

           “Oregon, originally. But now it’s been Royal Valley for the majority of my life.”

           “You serious?” He took a long drag. “One of my many sisters lives there.”

           “Then you should come by Castle Hill State Park next time you’re in town. I’ve been a camp counselor there for years. Beautiful scenery. It feels like home to me.”

           “I’ll keep that in mind… Hey. Do you want to… trade email addresses?”

           Bailey gave his newest friend one of his smiles. “All anyone has to do is ask.”

           A couple of days later, following a morning of Bailey and his team keeping antsy passengers busy as Oahu gradually approached, the Queen of Tides finally pulled into the terminal at Honolulu in the early afternoon. After the very last pre-arrival event, all of the fun coordinators were free to join the other spectators on the starboard side. The resorts and beaches of Waikiki, only a few miles away, basked in the sun on a clear day as the rocky hills of the Diamond Head volcanic crater dominated the horizon.

           “It’s not fair that you have to stay on the ship,” Peggy groaned. “We’re in Hawaii, and there are still passengers that want to stay onboard, instead of going on expeditions or transferring to a hotel for at least a few days? What is wrong with people…”

           “Yep. Irwin calls it the ‘doldrums.’ Says we get about a third our usual numbers but still have work to do. I guess some of them just care more about that cruise life than the destinations. It’s okay—go enjoy the resort. We still have evenings there together.”

           Peggy reluctantly grabbed her rolling suitcase handle, put on her shades as the ship docked, and asked over other stir-crazy passengers who couldn’t wait to disembark, “You’re still on a longer break than usual, right? What are you going to do with it?”

           “Hm. I should probably start by paying for a half-hour of internet access in the business center. I bet my inbox is overflowing. You want me to check your email, too?”

           She gave him another toothy smirk. “Only tell me about any actually important, life-or-death messages, okay? I’m not even halfway through a long vacation.”

           It was a gorgeous day at Sand Dollars Resort. Peggy sunbathed at the poolside, and waited for some of the noisy kids to get out so she could enjoy some crystal blue water that wasn’t salty like the ship’s pool. The lagoon that was a little further away also looked nice. But she soon found herself looking longingly at the tennis courts, wishing that her partner was available for a few matches by the beautiful ocean. If only Bailey wasn’t still stuck doing the same old cruise ship things that had kept him busy for weeks.

           “Hey, honey,” his voice suddenly surprised her, and she looked straight up to see him hovering over her lounge chair, in shorts, shades, and holding two coconut drinks with the little umbrellas. “So. Was this place worth the voyage?”

           She took off her sunglasses and checked her watch. “Bailey?! What are you doing here? I’ve only been off the ship for a couple hours! You didn’t get fired, did you?”

           “Me? Fired?” He laughed and handed off one of the drinks before dropping into the lounge chair next to her. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. Then again, I’ve never quit a job, either. Before just recently. It made me feel bad for a little bit. And Mr. Stricherd looked so disappointed, poor guy… Irwin gave me a thumbs-up, though.”

           “Bailey! This is a new side of you. But didn’t you have a contract or something?”

           “Nah. It never felt like it, but I was technically still a trainee. I’m thinking we stay a week, and then just fly home instead. We’ll have the rest of summer to do… whatever.”

           “Wow, okay. Were you overworked? Just got tired of it? Everyone liked you, so…”

           “Irwin helped me realize that we should be someplace where we can do the most good for others, and for me, that isn’t on that ship. I… also got an email a few days ago saying that the camp director is retiring, and I’ve been offered the job—along with some year-round duties in state park caretaking. So, yeah, that’s kind of part of it, too.”

           “Aw, Bae-Bae! Congrats! That’s huge!” Peggy said, and they clinked coconuts. “Going on a cruise is a unique experience, but a little goes a long way. I might’ve started losing my mind on the return trip.” She stretched out in contentment, and they watched the waves in the lagoon as they lazed in the sun. “This was worth it, though, yes.”

           A month later, during the dog days of summer, Bailey and Peggy supervised a crew of repairmen, roofers, landscapers, and carpenters as they worked to refurbish Morning Dew’s worn-out old camp area. For the two of them, it was good to be back in their natural habitat; a hideaway of open freedom and beloved summertime memories.

           “I can’t wait until we have campers again,” Peggy said and put an arm around Bailey’s shoulders. “These repairs have been a long-time coming. I’m glad this special corner is still going. So many other summer camps have been closing recently.”

           “I think we should try doing something up here during winter break,” Bailey said. “Just a few days. It could have a holiday theme… Even fake snow if we can afford it.”

           “Hey! Metalheads!” shouted a familiar voice before Bailey could share more of his ideas. They turned to see Irwin coming up in his trail gear and looking ready to go. “We’re doing the hard path today, right? I hope I can keep up with you guys.”

           The nature-adoring pair went to greet their hiking partner. On the walk, Bailey gazed at the trees, and the pines’ shadows cast on the bark that way only once. Komorebi.