Miss Sheri and I just wrapped a 5-day cruise on Wonder of the Seas to celebrate 32 years of marriage. Thirty-two Years. I honestly don’t know if that makes her loyal, patient, or clinically optimistic. She’s survived my ideas, my volume, and at least three different “this is the next big thing” phases. But hey — if you’re going to put up with me for three decades, you might as well get upgraded to balcony views and turquoise water. Turns out the real wonder isn’t the ship. It’s her.
We went on the cruise with our good friends Tom and Kellie Wolf — friends since Tom coached Luke and Avery in elementary school. The boys didn’t make the NBA, but we kept the coach anyway. That’s loyalty. First time traveling together, which is always risky when one member of the group (me) runs on high volume and questionable ideas. Turns out we survived five days, no one went overboard, and we’re still friends (I think!). That’s a win.
We launched out of Miami and spent our first night roaming South Beach like responsible adults with no responsibilities. Completely by accident, I wandered into the Miami Ink tattoo shop — first time back since I got inked there during the TLC show days. They’ve moved a few doors down, I didn’t recognize a soul, but the vibe was the same. Same walls, same energy, same flashbacks to when I thought reality TV fame was my next career move. Good times.
I’m posting the original video. I still can’t believe it’s been more than 18 years since we flew to Miami so I could get tattooed on a reality TV show. Eighteen years. Still one of the favorite days of my life. There’s something about cameras, bright lights, and a needle buzzing your arm that really makes you feel alive. It was my biggest taste of fame, and I’ve basically been waiting for a Hollywood producer to call ever since. One of these days.
Sunday we woke up way too early to board the ship like it was the first day of school, except with sunscreen. By afternoon we were sailing out of Miami toward CocoCay and Nassau, waving at the skyline like we were in a movie montage. The weather was perfect, the food and drinks kept showing up, and the activity list was longer than my attention span. For five days, our biggest stress was deciding what to do next. That’s a pretty good problem to have.
One of the best—or most dangerous—things about a cruise is “all inclusive.” Translation: at any given moment we could wander into one of twelve restaurants and make poor but delicious decisions. And every night? Multi-course dinner in the main dining room like we were food critics with no deadlines. It was glorious. It was excessive. It was absolutely predictable. Now it’s time to return to the weight-loss plan and pretend none of those chocolate desserts ever happened.
Every night in the main dining room, these two legends, Anak and Gede from Indonesia, took care of us like we were royalty with questionable judgment. Then they casually mentioned they work seven months straight. Eleven to thirteen hours a day. No days off. That’s not “hustle culture.” That’s endurance. Meanwhile, I needed a nap after walking to the buffet. Grateful doesn’t even cover it. Absolute pros.
Every night after dinner we hit a different show — ice skating, high diving, singing, comedy. And then there was the action-adventure one where they sent drones and large flying devices over the audience like we were part of the stunt. Everyone else was clapping. I was calculating trajectory angles in case something dropped from the ceiling. It was impressive. It was loud. It was slightly terrifying. And yes… I’d absolutely go again.
The AquaTheater diving show is basically the Olympics meets controlled chaos. These athletes launch themselves off platforms that look irresponsibly high into a pool that looks aggressively small. Lights flashing, music pumping, ocean right there behind them. And I can’t help it — my brain immediately goes, “What if a random tidal wave just rolls in right now?” Everyone else is clapping. I’m scanning the horizon like I’m in a disaster movie. Still… unbelievable talent.
We watched The Effectors II: Crash ’n’ Burn, which is basically a superhero sequel on a cruise ship with drones. They had to stop the show twice for technical difficulties, which is never what you want to hear before they launch 100 flying objects over your head. At one point a massive, life-sized drone hovered above the crowd on cables. Everyone else was cheering. I was replaying the words “technical difficulties” in my head and calculating impact zones. Still… wildly impressive.
The ice skating show was no joke. The rink isn’t huge — it’s basically a very ambitious frozen living room — but these skaters acted like they were in the Olympics. Spins, flips, full human tosses, costumes that looked like they raided a Broadway warehouse. At one point I realized they’re doing this on a moving ship… on ice. Meanwhile, I can barely walk across my driveway in January. Legitimate talent.
Of course Miss Sheri and I had to jump into karaoke. Cruise ship audiences are extremely supportive, especially after a few drinks, which gives me just enough confidence to believe a record deal is imminent. The only flaw in this plan? I can’t really sing. I can, however, fire up a crowd like I’m running for office. Sheri’s the one with actual talent. She even told the audience it was our 32nd anniversary and had them cheering like we’d just won something. Absolute pro.
We almost had as much fun off the boat as on it. Royal Caribbean literally bought their own island — CocoCay — which is either genius hospitality or the greatest vertical integration play in vacation history. You’re still on the drink package, still swiping your SeaPass, just now with palm trees. Cynical? Sure. Effective? Absolutely. And I’ll take a clean, organized island over dodging aggressive street vendors any day. It’s corporate paradise… and it works.
I’ve always wanted to try a glass bottom boat, so when it popped up as an option, I was in. Expectations? Manageable. I was picturing murky water and one confused fish. Instead, we got clear views and actual marine life. The best part though? The tour guides — native islanders who knew the water like it was their backyard. Funny, sharp, and genuinely knowledgeable. Way better than just staring at water and guessing what we’re seeing.
It was way cooler than I expected. Fish everywhere, sea urchins, sea biscuits, sea dollars, sea cucumbers — basically the entire “Sea” section of the dictionary. Then a massive stingray glides by like it owns the place. And just when you think it’s a wholesome nature tour, they casually point out two separate plane wrecks from drug runners who didn’t stick the landing. Nothing like tropical beauty mixed with a little true crime. Vacation with layers.
Nassau was… educational. The “tour” promised Atlantis, Fort Fincastle, Queen’s Staircase. Technically we saw them — from the parking lot. No going inside. Instead we got dropped at a rum cake shop in the middle of nowhere and a flea market where we were the only customers, which apparently activates Predator Mode for vendors. Razor wire everywhere. I asked about crime. Guide goes, “Oh that? Eighties cocaine.” Nothing says paradise like vintage crackhead infrastructure.
The Queen’s Staircase was actually impressive. Sixty-some steps carved out of solid limestone by hand — you can feel the history down there, even if you’re just taking it in from the bottom. The rest of the crew did the climb and came back with the same report: cool site, great photos, legit worth seeing. The punchline? At the top it basically funnels you straight into… more street vendors. Not sure the Queen had to navigate that.
One bright spot in Nassau? John Watling’s Distillery. Historic estate from 1789, hand-crafted small-batch rum, lush gardens… the whole “respectable culture” package. They walk you through barrels and aging like you’re about to start your own pirate side hustle. Then they land the plane with Piña Coladas at the Tavern. Complimentary tour, generous pours. Suddenly the bus excursion felt like a brilliant strategic decision. History is nice. Frozen rum drinks are nicer.
There’s something humbling about standing on a floating city, staring at water so blue it looks fake, realizing the world is bigger than your routine. We laughed, ate too much, saw things we never would’ve seen from our living room in Prior Lake. Royal Caribbean does it right. Big, bold, unapologetic. It gets you out there. And sometimes that’s exactly what you need.
No comments:
Post a Comment