GREAT JOB and CONGRATS!

Paul Laube and Dale Parker

Nancy Johnson

one of Jessica Simpson’s breasts.

The last item is a poor choice. I have no desire to read an interview that begins this way. Too bad this lacks class.

Thank you for the opportunity to read some history on Commodore Romano and thank you Commodore Romano for being such a wonderful person and captain of your ship.

Thank You Princess Lines

By Phil Linehan

When Sonia and I decided time at sea would be a nice treat.
the travel agent advised us about a cruise fleet.
She said for a good time it would suit us just fine
if we considered a trip on the swank Princess line.

Having carefully studied the company’s brochure,
we made reservations for a South American tour.
We would go to Chile, Argentina, the Falklands, Uruguay and Brazil
a journey we were assured would be a great thrill.

At Valparaiso we boarded the sparkling Star Princess
hoping 14 days at sea would rid us of stress.
The ship lived up to our each and every expectation
and our stateroom we found in an excellent location.

The staff, recruited from many countries worldwide,
performed their multitude duties with obvious pride,
It was easy to relax under the pampered attention
of a cabin and restaurant staff worthy of very special mention.

We were lucky in the companions with whom we shared dinner
and in assigning our table the maitre picked a winner.
With lots of laughs and tales told, most of them tall,
the most splendid time was had by us all.

We left Punta Arenas to visit the penguins in their own habitat.
They appeared before us in formal attire, but forgot to put on a stylist top hat.
Our presence they tolerated with admirable restraint
and endured our inane “aren’t they cute!” exclamations without a complaint.

With Magellan’s Strait and Cape Horn I felt quite deceived
although most other passengers were greatly relieved.
I had thought riding out a storm there would be quite a lark
but the sea was as calm as a pond in the park.

Approaching Ushuaia Captain Bob Oliver must have shed a bitter tear
when the port authorities told him his vessel did not have a pier.
The Navy had commandeered it for one of their submarines
which, when spotted, resembled a huge can made for sardines.

The ship’s tenders were lowered and the passengers, never despairing,
for a quick and safe landing were hopefully preparing.
Little did we know another surprise for us was in store
when we found out the tenders could not get to the shore.

We were told to step onto a small unstable craft
of which it was impossible to tell which was fore and which aft.
It appeared to be about to come apart at the seams
as the ocean was seen through the cracks in its beams.

Still, intrepid we were as we gingerly stepped on tip-toe
when they would not let us have the boat we wanted to row.
The tenders very late to the Star Princess her passengers returned
all eager for the good dinner they felt they had earned.

The departure, of course, had been much delayed
as Captain Bob’s ruffled nerves became ever more frayed.
Still, steering a straight course, he rose to the task
and resisted the urge to reach for a flask.

He then set sail for the Falklands, the next port of call,
hoping for no further delay caused by some sudden squall.
The landing in Stanley went off without hitch
with no danger of passengers being dumped in the ditch.

The few hours spent there, with penguins again, were truly enjoyable
with nothing that anyone could consider annoyable.
In a restaurant we were served a most delectable dish
of chips and green peas served up with fish.

We departed for Montevideo where we stayed a short time
having docked at a port that was covered in grime.
The buildings abandoned and falling apart
only induced us to quickly depart.

Then on to Buenos Aires where the start of our visit could not be called good
as the change from the taxi turned out to be dud.
But we quickly cheered up when we were able to dine
on some excellent beef and a good Malbec wine.

Once again our departure was held up, this time for reasons unclear,
as it seemed the B.A, Harbour Master wanted us to stay at his pier.
Then the pilots engaged in a heated debate
as they argued how best to get out of their own River Plate.

To make up for the delay our ship onward rapidly sped
and we were sure something much better was waiting ahead.
We were all most excited as Rio came into view,
anticipating our disembarkation without further ado.

Sadly, our hopes were very quickly let down
as it seemed we would never get into the town.
Passports for Immigration were sorted according to deck and colour coded
and then into neat little boxes were carefully loaded.

The plan was they would be sent back in the very same way
so visitors in orderly fashion could go ashore and make hay.
But those responsible in Rio had something other in view,
or could it be how to do their job they did not have a clue?

They apparently took all the documents and put them into a sack,
tossed it and then emptied it to see which one they first would get back.
They were returned to the ship’s staff in total disarray
leaving all of us waiting in a state of dismay.

Hour after hour we stood before Immigration allowed us ashore
with some perhaps being delayed even more.
We were understandably becoming derisively judgemental
about the authorities’ muck-up that was truly monumental.

Passengers waiting to embark for the return trip at last got onto the Star
after an experience they described as bizarre.
Let us hope that, once the embarking passengers were all safely in,
someone was at hand to pass Captain Oliver a stiff Tonic and Gin.