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Apparently there was a ping-pong table set up next to his piano, and he hated when people played during his set.
So day after day the passengers would arrive at the table and find the paddles missing.
There was a doo-wop group, a “human statue of liberty,” a boy band, a flamenco dancer, and a piano player from New York who sang in Yiddish. Once ensconced, I studied the pamphlet I’d been given.
The audience consisted of 500 extras from the movie “Cocoon,” several of whom according to the showcase coordinator were “survivors.” Bussed in by cruise lines, they were used as a litmus test for picking performers. It was a sort of employees’ guide to the cruise line and it was mind-bogglingly rigid.
” Normally, I would have immediately responded with, “Don’t make me go back to your trailer and kick over that meth lab made of empty Cool Whip containers and failed dreams, you toothless sister-fucker.” Instead I clammed up, as that could have been considered an “inappropriate passenger interaction.” I did not want the helicopter.