One of the quirks of ocean cruising is assigned seating at dinner – I am not a fan. I am perfectly happy chatting with people I meet in the lounge or by the pool or at the bar, but the idea of being stuck with the same six people for dinner every night has my introverted, isolationist, Reid nerves on edge.
I could have sworn that I asked for a solo table when I booked, but on evening one I was led to a large table with three other guests. They were lovely people – so lovely in fact that I felt guilty about wanting to dodge that table for the rest of the cruise. The man spoke with such a thick Mancunian accent and gravelly voice that I understood maybe one word in 20 (since typing this, I had several more meals with him and 1 in 20 is generous – haven’t a clue what he is saying. At all.). The two ladies from Glasgow & Fort William were very nice and very friendly and (most importantly) very intelligible. And yet, I bailed on them, at least for a few of the evenings. I warned my dining companions up front that I had booked several nights at the boutique restaurants to manage expectations. (I hadn’t actually done that at that point, as I was finding the additional costs for everything to be a bit much, but I decided it was worth the money to ensure dinners that I was actually enjoying.)
