There are twelve hundred passengers on our cruise ship and six hundred crew members but apparently no one is in recovery. The ship has been kind enough to allow us to post a notice in the daily newsletter that there's a non-hosted meeting for the Friends of Bill W that meets in one of the lounges. We've gone the last four nights. We're whiffing. No one. Nada. Zippo. Radio Silence on the Regatta. We stand there hopefully any time someone wanders into the room even though you can usually tell that we're not going to get anywhere with the wanderers.
Then, yesterday, a woman came in.
“Is this the meeting for Bill W?” she asks.
“Yes. Yes it is,” we reply in unison, smiling away.
“I saw this on the schedule and wondered what it was.” she says.
Laughing inside we tell her that it's kind of a coded message advertising an AA meeting.
“Oh,” she says, before turning to me. “Are you Bill?”
I can barely keep my voice under control as I explain who Bill is. I thought briefly about fucking around with her but for once I resisted the urge to riff.
“Are you the leaders of the meeting?” she asked. She was persistent, I'll give her that. We surmise that in the world of the Cruisers there's a subset that does absolutely everything that the ship offers.
She totters off after telling us that she had included a note in the mid-cruise evaluation form that it would have been helpful for the authorities to explain what kind of meeting this was.
We counted it as a meeting.
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