The Future Looks Big

With trembling hands we excitedly tear open the envelope and skim the flowery scripture, which reads:

“Time-Warner-MCA-Universal-Disney Limited, a Division of Rupert Murdoch’s Fox/Sky International, a wholly owned subsidiary of Starbucks Coffee, is happy to confirm your booking on the maiden voyage of our new mega-cruiser, the S.S. Steven Spielberg!”

We leap with joy, almost crashing our heads into the low, lithium-chip ceiling of our 4-by-7 urban module, tastefully furnished in a fashionable blend of neoclassical Tibet stick furniture and post-Depression American gas station artifacts, making it (at least, in our minds) trendier than any of the other urban modules occupied by the more than 31 million residents of Greater Los Angeles.

We pack and plan as if in a dream, and on that fateful day, board a shuttle for the 11 1/2-hour creep through the gridlock down to the port of San Pedro, where we behold our first sight of the massive cruise ship. The Spielberg is so large it cannot fit in the harbor, but rather lays out beyond the breakwater where it sucks a supertanker dry for its fuel.

As we queue up, with our 61,000 other fellow passengers, the air is thick with excitement, not to mention an ominous magenta cloud from a Russian-built nuclear reactor in Tijuana. And we have ample time to study that cloud, since boarding 61,000 passengers takes almost two days. We are herded aboard boats, each large enough to be a cruise ship on its own, and ferried out to the Spielberg.

But once aboard, the mind reels! We are given our complimentary tropical cocktails and flowery leis, as well as a backpack full of maps, compasses, survival rations and a flare gun. We are puzzled. Are they concerned about the ship sinking? No, that package is for our survival in case we get lost aboard ship. You see, the “Stevie” is nearly eight miles long with more than 130 miles of corridors, hallways and passageways, all of which look exactly alike. But don’t worry, they assure us during the indoctrination sessions, their missing persons statistics are no higher than any other modern American city.

*

And who will ever forget our first dinner in the massive Murdochtorium? Call us lucky, but we were fortunate enough to be among the 10,000 seated at the captain’s table. Of course, we weren’t close enough to see our skipper without high-powered binoculars, but thanks to the ingenious high-pixel screens built into all the sneeze guards of the United Arabic Emirates Oasis Salad Bar, we didn’t miss a thing.

And the food? Well, when that conveyor belt started and those cinder block-size chunks of Faux Shrimp Bernaise, and the Mock Crab Polynesian came chugging toward us, our mouths were watering. But the highlight of dinner had to be the sudden arrival of two life-size velociraptors crashing through walls, smashing tables and even devouring an ice skater or two who were performing in the “Les Miz on Ice Escapades” inside the massive Union 76 Frozen Yogurt Atrium.

We knew they weren’t real dinosaurs, of course, but merely life-like holograms here to advertise the showing of “Lost World, Part Nine” at all 56 theaters in the aft deck multiplex.

None of that staged entertainment for us, though. We wanted to enjoy the experience of being at sea. We saunter up to Level 81 on Quarterdeck Z, Starboard Piling 161-B Observation Deck to watch a tropical moon rising over the sparkling Pacific. Of course, since the Spielberg travels on hydroponic pods at the speed of 700 knots, there’s no way one can actually go outside. But the crew of Level 81 Quarterdeck Z, Starboard Piling 161-B Observation Deck simply outdid themselves with a life-size panoramic, high-def, quad channel, stereophonic recreation of the moonrise, complete with a simulated sea breeze that felt as balmy as anything whispering off the coast of Kona. Ah, nature.

That night, as we lay in our sleep tube, comfortably nestled in our 4-by-7 nautical module, we could feel the simulated rocking and digital Surroundsound of waves lapping. We knew that we were experiencing the state of the art in cruise ship travel.