NKOTB Cruise 2017 (Part 8: Evil Dead)

(Catch up on all the fun of parts 1-7 here)

Once back on the ship, I made a tequila-mess of many conversations on Lido, including one with the lovely Reagan, the “bridezilla” from season one of Rock This Boat, “The Scots” from season one of Rock This Boat (and my heart, because I love them) and Tina. Who informed me that I told her last year that I didn’t like her. Oops. Usually I lie about stuff like that. I don’t even really dislike her that much. I must have been feeling salty that day. Sorry, Tina.

Luckily for everyone else on the ship, Joe was doing a show in the theater. Whenever there’s a solo show like this, especially with Joe, I have no idea what it means. Last year, Joe’s solo time involved a monologue about how he kind of wants to suck a dick. So I was pretty pumped to see what kind of ridiculousness we were in for that afternoon. Because, it was the middle of the afternoon, still. Rae had already gone to the show, probably having had enough of me for the day, understandably. Jenn and I wrapped up our lido-drinks with The Scots and headed that way ourselves. Jenn couldn’t finish her disgusting, blue sugar-booze, and I don’t like wasting $10 drinks, so I offered to take it off her hands before we parted ways for our very disparate seats in the theater.

I annoyed everyone already seated in my row with my big butt, and found my way to my seat near the middle, behind that big ass pole. Rae greeted me and we discussed the marble penis a bit more before Joe came onstage and delighted us with his two 1999 hits, “Stay the Same” and “I Love You Came Too Late”. There may have been other songs, but those are the only two my post-post-post adolescent heart cared about. But then. It got weird. Weirder than his dick-sucking soliloquy. You see, Joe has been into meditation lately. And whatever, that’s cool, man. Do what you need to do. But. Meditation definitely isn’t a spectator sport. Listen, I once said that I’d watch Harry Styles do anything. I’d watch him pick out an avocado for an hour. But I didn’t mean it. So, when Joe ACTUALLY meditated. On stage. FOR FIVE WHOLE MINUTES. I lost it. I couldn’t retain my composure. I’d like to blame it on the tequila, but. That would’ve been excruciatingly awkward to my soberest self. But drunk Kaira couldn’t hold in the giggle-snorts. And die-hard fans around me did not care for it. Oops, again.



After the LITERAL FIVE FULL MINUTES of JUST MEDITATION. I can’t stress enough that he set a timer. Assumed the position. And then actually sat in silence while a theater of like 1500 people stared at him. Some of us giggle-snorting out of pure disbelief. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m a hater. I love Joe. He’s my forever favorite. My “I first got horny 2 U” guy. (Mom, Grandma, that’s an SNL sketch. Don’t worry.) But. Come on. When he asked the audience if anyone had moved to a different country and wanted to talk about it for a bit, I lost it. And when he pulled someone onstage who then chatted about all of her military moves, I had to leave. I couldn’t sit there any longer. Especially not with Miss EE, Seat 29 all over my jock. I was going to get myself in trouble.

I'm not lying.

I’m not lying.

Luckily, the other girls were equally as annoyed, and hungry. We all met in the formal dining room for another try at a decent meal. I’ll eat almost anything when I’m drunk. Including Taco Bell. So, I devoured whatever was put in front of me without much complaint. I believe I started with the shrimp cocktail, then tried a medium rare steak that they managed to cook pretty decently to my specifications. But then it was nap time. Nap time for sure. I mean, after some hilarious foul play with the marble penises, of course. And yes, I did post this on social media. I have no shame.

It was Neon Night, the night I was most looking forward to. So the plan was to nap off the tequila a bit, then get ready and hit the Lido deck early enough to get a good spot for the deck party. Instead, I woke up with a combination hangover/seasickness that left me cabin-bound all night, and into the not-so-early morning. I missed everything. EVERYTHING. I got intimate with the cabin toilet, and said a pretty gruesome goodbye to that medium rare steak. I wished for death as my head and stomach spun while Rae put several glowing items on her body and did her makeup, hoping I’d feel better by the time she was done. I did not. I drifted in and out of sleep while Jenn, Rae and the rest of our friends got into the VIP area on deck 10. While they danced the night away with Jenny McCarthy’s dad and made friends with countless security guards. While they all had the time of their lives in the after-party, dancing and sweating and making inside jokes that I’m still pretty mad about, I cried and tried to figure out how much money I was wasting by being sick instead of having fun. But that just made it worse. Because there was nothing I could do. I already had the seasickness patch on. And Lorde knows it wasn’t the tequila that did it. I’m a standup comic. It’ll take more than a few shots of tequila to make me puke. Trust.

I just had to lay there, sort of listening to New Kids TV as I imagined my Trouble Trifecta having the absolute best time without me. Which of course they were. And the worst part is that I didn’t even get to glow.


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