Life comes into focus in The Last Frontier

INSIDE A STEAM ROOM WITH FOUR OLD ASIAN GUYS SOMEWHERE OFF THE COAST OF BRITISH COLUMBIA -- In the end, we are all just people, with more that unites us than divides us.

Unfortunately, you can't take them home as souvenirs.

I thought about this while working up a good schvitz during our recent cruise to Alaska (Motto: "Come for the hell of it, stay for the halibut.") The four gentlemen in the steam room with me had also traveled great distances to see one of the most beautiful parts of America, breathe the fresh air and enjoy a slower pace of life in the Land of the Midnight Sun.

And, of course, to try to figure out how to use our digital cameras. There was so much fiddling with camera lenses and settings on the ship I kept looking for Tevye pulling his milk cart around the pool deck. In watching many men take photos, I also developed my Amateur Photographer Theory: The size of the camera lens is inversely proportional to the size of a man's tripod, if you catch my drift.
  
We also cruised to Alaska, if we're being honest, to eat until our stomachs waved the white flag. And then eat some more. For those who have never been on a cruise, imagine the fullest you've ever been after eating a meal. Now imagine feeling that way for seven days straight. (You get used to the feeling by Day Four.) Ordering multiple entrees and appetizers and desserts is not only allowed but encouraged. Note I didn't use the word "or"; if there were not multiple plates in front of me at all times, I felt I wasn't doing my job.

It's not just there is delicious food everywhere you look, it's that it's prepared and presented beautifully, too. For example, each night at dinner there was a chilled, fruit soup on the menu. It would be called something like, "pineapple reduction with buttermilk swirl." But I'm pretty sure the only thing "reduced" was the amount of syrup in the can of pineapples used to make the soup. And yet, each night, I eagerly looked forward to the fruit soup offering. One night, I swear I lapped up daiquiri mix under the guise of strawberry soup.

Our menu was significantly different than that of many of our hearty guides in Alaska. Some go to the food store once a week because that's how often food is delivered to the local grocery stores. Even more amazing were the dozen people living on a glacier for five months with more than 200 sled dogs. All of their supplies have to be helicoptered in, and they live two to a small trailer with one port-a-pot to share. On the plus side, they get better cell phone reception up there than I get in my kitchen.

But there's a friendliness and joie de vive about people in Alaska that we should adopt in the Lower 48. And by "people in Alaska," I mean those we met in the many gift shops near the port. When I was younger, I liked getting a T-shirt from somewhere we traveled during summer break to wear on the first day of school. Sure, it was a bit of a humblebrag, but I needed my fellow Franklin Middle School sixth graders to know that someone among them visited Central Perk during the summer of '95.

On our cruise, however, I noticed a large number of people wearing T-shirts or sweatshirts from the port we just left. Did they think others on the ship were not aware we were just in Skagway? Did they spill something on the shirt they were wearing at the port, requiring them to quickly change? Or, in what would I consider a genius move, did they pack less in their suitcases than they needed knowing they would buy clothing as the trip progressed?

Maybe we'll see these get-ups on "Dancing with the Stars."

Of all the outfits I saw on this trip, the ones that stood out the most were the husband and wife wearing a Hawaiian shirt and dress, respectively, with the same print. (It was so, um, stunning, that I had to take the photo you see to the right.) And that's when I realized that not only are we all just people with more that unites than divides us, but relationship dynamics are universal as well.

This insight led to a peek into my future thanks to Anna and Allwyn, the lovely Australian couple who have been married for more than 30 years and sat next to us at dinner. When I would order a second dessert even as I complained how full I was, Belle would give me a look of disapproval. When Allwyn tried to order one dessert, Anna told him he shouldn't eat that and had him order something else.

Allwyn and I discussed the love of our favorite football teams, his of Australian Rules variety (go Hawks!); our wives shook their heads and wondered how we could spend so much time and energy on a sports team. We dutifully went and fetched glasses of water for our beloveds to have by their bedside at night. Anna and Belle chatted about everything imaginable; Allwyn and I would keep the chitchat limited to in between bites of meat.

Lest you think these relationship traits are limited to men living in democracies, our assistant waiter, Tu, is from China and looked to be in his 20s. He was extremely helpful and friendly but on the quiet side. We found out halfway through our trip he had been dating a Chinese woman who also works on the ship for eight months.

"When we are together," he told us one night, "I mostly listen."

He'll be just fine.

In the shower, on the lamb

The following conversation with myself took place in the shower the other day.

Q. You look great.

A. Thanks, so do you.

Q. Is that a tan?

Photo: Eric Stocklin

A. Yes, yes it is. I just came back from my honeymoon in Cancun.

Q. Please share an unusual observation you made about the staff of the resort you stayed at. 

A. All of the men had great, slicked back hair that stayed perfect all day despite any heat or wind. We left Cancun with some ceramics and a few sunburns, but I would have liked to have taken back some of their hair products.

Q. A honeymoon means there must have been a wedding. How'd that go? 

A. If there weren't 53,981,421 photos from the evening, I wouldn't have believed it happened. I recommend everyone get married if only for the food tasting.

Q. I understand the food was a hit.

A. Specifically, a lamb chop appetizer. I insisted at the tasting we needed to serve hunks of meat, so it filled my heart with joy to hear people were stalking the servers carrying the lamb chops.


Q. And by "people," you mean "men", of course.

A. Of course. I know my audience.


Q. So how involved were you with the wedding planning?

A. You know how politicians will vote "present" sometimes to indicate they were there for the vote when they don't want to vote? I was "present" for almost all of our wedding appointments.

That's not to say I wasn't for whatever Belle wanted; I just didn't say much during our meetings. Here's an actual transcript of what I said when we met with the florist the first time:

-- "Yes."
-- "Five."
-- "Purple, nice."
-- "Don't forget my grandfather."
-- "That's right, lamb chops."

A word of advice to all of you guys out there thinking about getting married. First, man up and ask her. It's the best thing you'll ever do. Second, go to all of the appointments. Don't even wait for her to ask. A lot of it is fun.

It's also a win-win. She gets to brag to all her girlfriends about how involved you are in the wedding planning, and you might get the chance to watch that football game you really wanted to see.

Q. There was as an eight-week span in the fall where you were at Kleinfeld in New York more times (three) than Ravens' home games (two).

A. That's a great line.


Q. Thanks. You thought of it.

A. I saw some things in that basement fitting area no man should see. I still have nightmares about ruching.

Q.  Suspenders?

A. Always. There are few times a man feels comfortable in suspenders. His wedding day is one.

Q. You're starting to prune a little bit. Any parting words?

A. I'm usually one of those people never at a loss for words. Twice in 2012 I have been a blubbering, speechless fool: first, when I proposed; second, when I got married. It's an incredibly humbling, awe-inspiring feeling to be in a room filled with love with the love of my life. All things wedding-related took up the majority of my free time last year and I wouldn't change anything.

Q. You're going to be a good husband.

A. I really, really want to watch the Ravens' playoff game this weekend.

Failing the smell test

All of us, I think, are blessed with a gift the average person doesn't have. A human superpower, if you will.

My superpower, for example, is always getting stuck behind the person backing in to a spot in a parking garage. It's almost always a giant car or truck, too. There are only two scenarios where you should be backing in to a parking garage space: you're involved in a stakeout; or you are planning a quick getaway. Otherwise, stop with the 43-point turn and let me go on my way.

If I had to pick one superpower for Belle, I would say it's her sense of smell. She can quickly determine if food has gone bad and detect mold in a room. She knows when it's time to throw out the trash and when it's time for me to wash the shorts I wear around our place. Were we to travel to the French countryside, I'm sure she could find truffles.

Unfortunately for Belle, there are no truffles in our apartment. Just me.

It was either Plutarch or Bluto from "Animal House" who once said, "I am, therefore I fart." When guys live on their own or with other guys, this is not a problem and is, in many cases, a point of pride.

The flatus calculus changes significantly once a woman is brought into the equation. You try to hide it in the bathroom or under the cover of a kitchen appliance. ("That noise? Something must be wrong with the dishwasher.")

I knew Belle was the one for me after only a few months of dating. But I didn't really, really, REALLY feel comfortable until we'd lived together for a few months, if you know what I mean. I still try to keep my distance when my stomach is rumbling but no longer do I blame changes in barometric pressure. If a man can't toot in his castle, where can he toot?

(I just asked Belle about this. "You get gassy at random times," she said. "And every day." So there you have it.)

Belle and women in general have a secret weapon in their fight against farts. Our apartment has scented candles and high-powered air fresheners in every room. There are seasonal soaps next to every sink. And there are hand lotions galore, seemingly one for every day of the week.

I've written before about Bath & Body Works but I get it now. It's as much about helping women smell delightful as it is masking man stench. So keep on coming out with new scents and filling our home with a symphony of pleasant aromas.

Because, suddenly, I feel the barometric pressure rising.