Lies at lunch, trouble at dinner

I went on a cruise to Cozumel last week. It was my first cruise. I'd been looking forward to seeing the sunset from the Lido Deck but it rained every day we were at sea. So much for those stars at night, too. Still I managed to have fun.
Lunch and breakfast in the dining room was Open Seating. Since I had different dining companions I saw no reason to be boring ol’ Bob Byrd who works at AT&T. At breakfast the first day I introduced myself to my fellow diners as Dr. Byrd. I told one woman she really needed to “get that mole checked out right away. I don’t like the look of it.” Some doctor chasing bimbo asked me if there was a Mrs. Byrd. I said there was indeed, but she was ill and confined to the stateroom. Two days later this same woman was behind me in line at one of the many buffets. She asked me how my wife was feeling and I looked at her bewildered and said, “Wife? I’m traveling alone. I have no wife.” Then I commented to the person carving my meat that what with the rain and wind the night before, if anyone had slipped and fallen overboard she probably wouldn’t have been seen.
I may have been too convincing. I noticed some whispers and pointing from a few people after that, but since there had never been a Mrs. Byrd on board, there was never a formal homicide investigation.
By lunch the first day I'd already grown bored with medical degree so I introduced myself as Pastor Bobby. Naturally someone asked what church I was with. I should have had an answer prepared. Instead I answered without really thinking, "The Backwater Holy Word of God One True Church." Of course I insisted that we all say grace before eating. When the woman across from got the hiccups I pointed at her and shouted, "Out vile demon!" No one liked me, but all of them were too polite to let it show.
Dinner seating is assigned. Since I'd be sharing dinner with the same people every night I decided to behave and just be me. Behaving is in the eye of the beholder, though.

The duty free liquor shop had a free tasting just before dinner. There were a dozen kinds of rum, a couple of brands of tequila, some vodka, scotch, bourbon, and a few bottles, I wasn’t sure WHAT they were. The bartender beckoned me to a table where several little plastic shot glasses were lined up. He insisted I try one of each, and he was just too damn cute to refuse. The longer I stood there drinking free booze the longer I got to look at those brown eyes. Shameless. When it was time for dinner I was loaded.

I managed to find my way to the dining room and one of the waiters led me to table 139 where I met my dining mates: Tammy and Abigail, two friends from Georgia; Larry, traveling alone; Greg, also alone. Gerald, another solo cruiser; and Joe and Daphne, a couple, though not married.

Daphne sat directly across from me. Her boyfriend was forty-five or fifty but Daphne was maybe twenty-three. She wore a very low cut dress that she was falling out of. Her boobs were as fake as her blond hair, though better done. Her black roots were showing on her head. She wore blue eye shadow, false eyelashes, and ruby red lipstick. Every time I looked up from my soup I was confronted with those rigid boobs and that Tammy Faye makeup job.

Joe was on her left, and to her right was Larry, an older black gentleman. After the appetizers arrived Larry started telling some VERY raunchy jokes. They weren’t funny but they sure were vulgar. Every time he used another taboo word Daphne grimaced and put her hands over her ears. By then the booze had really kicked in. I wasn’t certain if she had three fake boobs or only two. After Larry’s third crude joke, and several more grimaces from Daphne I said, “Larry, turn it back a notch, dude. You’re offending the hooker!”

Dead silence.  A silence broken by our waiter who said, "In vino veritas est."

For some reason, Daphne didn’t make it to any more meals in the dining room, though Joe still showed up, and never showed any rancor towards me. I'm still not sure why he didn't beat me up.