Written by: Dominick A. Miserandino Photography by: Margherita Miserandino
Today I slept in. I was actually rather effective at it. I slept on my side of the bed and then Margherita’s side of the bed. She went for breakfast and I decided to sleep in the middle of the bed. I wrapped myself like a cocoon in the bed, and made a complete mess of the matter.
While 99% of the passengers on board were up already, I slept in.
Why did I sleep in? Because I could. Because here I was in the middle of the river, being rocked to sleep by the boat moving at walking speed (maybe a little quicker) up the river.
Today was a "boat day" which means, as the name sounds, we were on the boat the whole time with no stops.
I went downstairs and got a bowl of hot oatmeal and carried it back to the deck to eat outside. It was raining a bit, and I sat on the deck looking at the rain. It was a heavy rain and I give you that additional description because people would walk by and seem to comment on the rain and my sitting in it. Since they felt it important enough to remind me of my unusual happenstance, I felt it
the right thing to do to pass it on.
But that sums up the general feel of today. It was a day to watch the rain fall.. To watch the clouds roll over the riverbanks, to watch the individual drops come crashing down. I watched the houses do what houses do quite well. I watched a man fall in a ditch.
Oh, I didn’t mention that? Well, it seems that when the American Queen comes into town it’s a bit of a scene. People at the river stop and look. Cars stop in their tracks. Children wave and the cows moo. It’s generally a pleasant experience.
However, one man was driving down the road, minding his own business and he noticed the American Queen. I was walking around the deck when I noticed this. People waved to him, he waved to the people. He also seemed to forget to hold onto his steering wheel, and his car fell into a ditch. He did jump out and give everybody a high five, but the car didn’t seem as happy about being stuck in the ditch.
There was one other adventure today that was worth noting. It happened to also be St. Joseph’s Day today. Margherita felt slighted that they didn’t know it was such a big Italian-American day, while they did remember St. Patrick’s Day. I, being an Italian-American only knew the date from writing it in my palm-pilot. Beyond that, my Italian-American pride dwindles.
Trying to be the romantic man I am, I ran to the dining room (during one of the shows) and coordinated with Lance (the maitre’d), Brian (the dining room Capitan) and Eric (the Social Director) and tried to explain the significance of the day. On St. Joseph’s day they usually eat zeppole’s at Margherita’s house so I needed to get zeppoles.
"What’s a zeppole?" Lance asked.
"It’s a ball of fried dough." I said.
"Like a donut?" he asked
"Sorta."
"Like a cake?" he said
"Sorta."
"Like a French begnette?" he asked.
Ahh the famous New Orleans pastry. Fortunately, I’ve tried them once.
He raised both of his hands as if signaling traffic. He nodded his head in conjunction with his hands.
"Don’t worry about it. I can handle it." he said calmly.
Zeppole's for Saint Joseph's Day
An hour later, at dinner, Eric showed up dressed as St. Joseph, delivering zeppoles/begnettes to our table for the famous Italian-American holiday.
Anyway, this was the general feel of the boat. You watched the locals fall in ditches by the river and St. Joseph stopped by.
