Page 111 of The Vacation Mix-Up
Riley murmurs, “Hmm.”
“I think we should use our towels more than once from now on.”
“Say what?”
“I’m serious. Look at all that laundry. It’s the least we can do.”
“It’s what we paygood coinfor,” he says, mimicking Ohio Oscar’s voice yet again.
I release my hair and facetiously elbow him in the ribs.
“Now, just up ahead are the food stores,” Gabriella says, glancing back over her shoulder as she strides forward. “One of the most popular Behind-the-Scenes tour places to visit.” Shestops in front of another door and asks us to wait while she enters in search of the Food and Beverage Director.
My stomach rumbles.
Riley smirks. “Hungry, are we?”
“Do you blame me? All this talk of food stores will do that to a person.”
“Not me.” He rubs his belly. “I had a substantial breakfast.”
“Shut up,” I grouch just as Gabriella returns and ushers us inside, boxes of bottled oils, canned goods, and various pantry items stacked to the ceiling.
“I’d like to introduce you to Leon, our Food and Beverage Director, who has one of the most difficult and vital roles on board.”
Leon steps forward, his hands clasped behind his back. “Thank you, Gabriella. Welcome, everyone, to the ship’s treasure trove. In here, you’ll find many food stores, each dedicated to different food groups. As you can see, this is one of our pantries. To your right, through that steel door, is one of our meat freezers, and beyond that is another freezer—my personal favorite, dedicated solely to ice cream.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“It’s my favorite too,” Gabriella adds.
“Why do you have a freezer just for ice cream?” Hugo asks.
“Mostly to prevent cross-contamination. We must follow strict Vessel Sanitation Program criteria, as well as health and safety guidelines, for your protection and for ours. We don’t want an outbreak of food poisoning on board just as much as you don’t.” Leon lifts his chin. “Any other questions?”
Most of us shake our heads.
“Very well. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you one of our fridges.”
We shadow him along a hallway into another large room, again stacked almost to the brim with boxes of pantry items, several steel doors circling it.
“In those two fridges, there are fruits and vegetables. In the fridge over there is where we thaw our proteins. And in here,” hesays, opening the door, “is where we keep our dairy and eggs.” Leon gestures for us to enter, a few at a time, and I almost stop in my tracks at the mountain of egg cartons.
“Wow! How many eggs do you order for a single cruise?” I ask.
“We can go through ten to fifteen thousand eggs a day.”
“Jesus,” Riley murmurs.
Leon chuckles. “Eggsactly!”
I giggle. “Do you ever run out?”
“Never. I’m too good at my job.” He winks. “And if I ever did run out of eggs, Executive Chef Bruno would have my head on one of his fancy silver platters.”
He draws his finger across his neck and then escorts us to the alcohol storeroom.
“Oh, praise the Lord,” Hugo says, eyes wide. “That’s a lot of wine.” He turns in a circle, admiring the hundreds of cases. “Manny, darling, you can just leave me here. I’ll be fine for a few hours.”
“Here is the last place I would leave you,” Manny says, taking hold of his husband’s hand. “I’d never see you again.”
