Way back in September of 2002, Hubs and I took our second and final voyage upon the SS Norway. Nine months later there was an explosion in the boiler room while she was in port. Last I heard, she was rotting away in that ship graveyard somewhere in Asia (Thailand?).
I have mourned the loss of that ship. She was old. My friend called her "shabby chic." It wasn't a cruise ship for rich people; it was a cruise ship for real people. (I think lots of cruise ships would say that about themselves, but I'm not sure I agree.) She wasn't flashy. There were a couple small pools. A couple hot tubs. Several "lounges." Our favorite was this jazz bar with a dance floor that was nearly always empty. You could sit in there and visit and relax and the music was wonderful. No climbing walls. No water slides. But lots of deck chairs.
The staterooms were teeny. Really teeny. I've seen maps of other ships and their smallest rooms were twice the size of our closet. And we never had one with a porthole. So they were black as night whenever you wanted to sleep. But it didn't matter because you could just go find a lounge or a deck chair and read or visit and relax.
What I loved most about this ship was that our last cruise on her was $250 per person for seven days in the Caribbean. You can't match it. (Not for a cruise, anyway.) On our last trip we got to take our very good friends and that made it that much more fun.
One of the lesser known benefits of this cruise (and I suppose many) is if you went to 10 "work out" sessions, you got a free t-shirt. As we are cheap and didn't want to buy the $20 t-shirts, all four of us did it. (One of the work out sessions was a putting contest. Another one was "sports trivia.")
This morning, Eldest pointed out that my shirt had a hole in the armpit. Boy, did it. A hole the size of a large fist. It will have to be put out of commission.
My Norway is crumbling and I can't stop it.
Rest in peace old girl. Rest in peace. Here's to many fond memories.