Cruising for an Intergalactic Bruising

Facebook, that helpful hubbub of information, told me that we can all finally stop holding our breaths: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the Star Wars cruise is finally happening!

(Seriously: no more breath holding! You need oxygen in your brain so you can read. And also be alive!)

I mean, hip-hip-hooray, but was anyone actually waiting for this?

Is a Star Wars cruise a GOOD idea?

There’s a scene from this old animated movie, BEBE’S KIDS (which is a terrific film; it is better, in fact, than reading this, so stop now and find that movie) and the scene goes as follows: there is a pirate-themed cruise (not the Jesse Jane movie, and not the Johnny Depp movie), and these little brats called Bebe’s Kids form a gang and take over the cruise. They force the adults to walk the plank, ram the boat into things, and basically cause 50 shades of anarchy and destruction, all because they take the cruise theme too literally.

Which is exactly what I am going to do right now!

Lads and lasses, what in God’s green Earth should lead us to believe a Star Wars cruise would actually be a good idea?

Think about it: there are just a few ways this could go down that would actually make any sense, and none of them are particularly pleasant.

One way is that it’s just a normal cruise, only dudes prowl the deck dressed like Star Wars characters. There you are, slathering on sun tan lotion while some poor guy dressed in 100 pounds of Darth Vader armor is sweating his guts out beside you. You take a selfie with him twelve seconds before he passes out and dies from dehydration.

Fun! Rad! Right? But then he’s dead and your day’s ruined and it’s no reason to have a Star Wars cruise at all.

Also, you can imagine brats dressed like Luke Skywalker and Han Solo would run around on deck, constantly hitting each other over the head with plastic light sabers (coated in the blood of their fallen friends), and firing Nerf pellets into each others’ butts, pretending they were blasters. Some poor hero dressed like Boba Fett would probably get thrown into the ocean (the kids would pretend it was that sad, weird, toothy vagina monster from Return of the Jedi), and everyone would cheer while the sad champ drowned.

Maybe you’d be lucky enough to be a Jabba the Hutt. Get your very own bikini-armored Leia arm candy for the mountain of Instagram pics you might take, before she turns on you and strangles you to death.

Worse yet, you’d be the metal-bikini slave Leia, and wonder why you shelled out all of your life savings to go on this cruise.

Another scenario: there are different cruises in the Star Wars universe, and they are themed, meaning you get to choose: Rebel Alliance cruise or Empire cruise.

This, really, is no choice at all. The Empire cruise is 100% the way to go.

I mean, we’re talking about a cruise, man! You might disagree with the political ethos of these fascist tyrants (just talk to anyone with family on Alderaan), but for the weekend, the lap of luxury would be yours. (It is, I imagine, like living in the capital in the Hunger Games: instantly preferable to living in District 13, that drab and monochromatic hole the rebels inhabit in Mockingjay: Part 1).

(And I actually don’t know what happens in Part 2, so I’m really vibing on the dichotomy, man.)

So, for a weekend cruise, you’d have all the riches in the world at your disposal: glittering flutes of champagne, gold-encrusted towels to stretch out on; Wookie slaves and Ewoks giving you back rubs. Whatever. You know: the works.

Check your conscience at the door, know what I’m saying? Better yet, trade in your soul for an “Emperor Palpatine is my BFFL!” speedo. You’re developing new squad goals. Fascist, but also fun and flirty.

On the Rebel Alliance cruise, what would you have? A tauntaun you could slice open and spend the night in to avoid freezing to death? Two sassy droids they’d supply you with at the beginning of the cruise? Equipment that is uniformly covered in oil and rust? An Oedipus complex because you made out with your sister?

You’re a long way from Tosche Station now, my friend.

And if you’re on board with Billy Dee Williams, avoid him like the plague. He’ll pretend to be your friend, but before you know it, you’ll be sold to the Empire Cruise faster than you can say, “I want all my moneys back, this cruise is no fun!”

There you are, slathering on sun tan lotion while some poor guy dressed in 100 pounds of Darth Vader armor is sweating his guts out beside you.

Unless you were some kind of Jedi, the whole situation sounds bunk. Better to assume the role of Bounty Hunter and spend most of the trip head hunting, dispatching your targets by silently throwing them over board, and then collecting a little bit of money.

Collect enough money, and maybe you could even afford to take the Empire Cruise.

Of course, both cruises come with elements of danger: at any point, your cruise ship could be attacked by the other cruise ship.

And this is where we see the flaw in choosing the Empire Cruise: were you to run into a Rebel Alliance ship, sure as shit they’d beat you, any time, any way. Why? Because the Empire, despite its wealth and influence and reach, always loses to the Rebels. That’s the way we want it, that’s the way it is.

So you’d be sprawled out, again sun bathing (because that is all I think people do on cruises), when suddenly the Rebel Alliance cruise would ram you full speed, and those poor impoverished bastards would blast you to death, because apparently they’ve been feasting on military rations while you’ve been gorging yourself on lobster, and they are cut, they are hard, and they will win.

It’s the law of these things. The Empire might strike back, but that’s because it lost the first time. Ultimately, it’ll just lose again.

So buyer beware: the Empire Cruise is flirting with absolute destruction, but the Rebel Cruise is just a frosty trip into a hollow victory. You might beat the Empire, but so what? Unless you have a monosylabbic name like “Han” or “Luke,” you’ll probably die in the process, and even if you come out unscathed, what are your coworkers gonna care?

“I did the Star Wars cruise this weekend…”

“No one cares! We can’t afford cruises, otherwise we wouldn’t be working here with you!”

And so it goes.

I can think of a bunch of cruises that might seem like fun but, upon closer examination, are actually the worst ideas anyone has ever had.

An incomplete list follows:

The Batman Cruise:

Oh, cool! I get to run around in my speedo while some fool dressed like the Riddler chases me!

No. No, you silly clown, that is not what is going to happen.

What is going to happen is, you’ll be having a lovely time sipping a dry martini and flirting with the Michelle Pfeiffer dressed Catwoman, when some thin, psychotic voice hijacks the loud speaker.

“Tonight, we’re all gonna take part in a social experiment,” he says, before another boat sidles up to yours. “Each boat has a bomb on it,” the Joker says, “and the detonation to each boat’s bomb is on the other boat. Who will blow each other up first? You choose!”

Great. Thanks Cruise Joker. You’ve killed my summer.

This is, of course, before Bane says some nonsense to you in a quasi-Russian Sean Connery accent, before breaking your spine.

Then Mister Freeze says it was “Ice knowing you,” and you want your money back.

The 50 Shades of Grey Cruise:

Well, geeze, this really is a good idea, isn’t it? I mean, you might be the unlucky schmuck who gets handcuffed below deck the whole time, and never adds even a smidgeon of bronze to that tan, but there are worse things.

Like being the man-boy billionaire who was a human ash tray when he was a child, and now can’t emotionally connect with anyone.

Sigh.

The Predator Cruise:

Now we’re cooking. It’s all fun and games at first…until an invisible hunter literally starts hunting everyone on deck. Don’t slip on the blood of your best friend! He just got his head exploded by the invisible monster’s shoulder cannon!

If you have to shave, don’t use shaving cream (just like in the movie!)

If you’ve got a big knife, cut open your own chest (just like in the movie!)

If you’re Jessie Ventura, you ain’t got time to bleed (but do you have time to duck?) You do, in fact, have time to die, it turns out.

Will you be the lucky one to survive until the end, only to come face to face with the thing, and engage him in hand to hand combat?

No.

Nope.

Probably not.

Maybe?

Nah, you’ll probably die on this one.

The Titanic Cruise:

Ho ho, well that’s funny, isn’t it?

Not really. The Titanic was a boat.

IRL.

And most of those people died.

IRL.

The Walking Dead Cruise:

Oh fun! Zombies are on the boat with me!

They can chase me around after I’ve downed an entire bottle of champagne all by myself! I imagine squealing in ecstasy as some fools in grease paint make-up shamble after me and threaten to bite me to death. Gobble, gobble!

Then I’ll gamble all my money away, get sea sick, vomit, formulate regrets, flirt with the wait staff, and…get it?

We’re the zombies, man!

Not them.

Glad I shelled out the money to figure that out.

The Twilight Cruise:

Everyone’s glittering on board like a bunch of disco balls.

Except for that one stud with the twelve-pack abs.

Raaaoor!

(He also, like, wants to marry your daughter? Nessie? This goes largely ignored because everyone has such cool hair).

The Edward Scissorhands Cruise:

Everyone is sensitive. No one holds each other.

Some great ice sculptures. Some bad, bad tans.

Honorable mentions? The Captain Phillips Cruise, the Jaws cruise, the Snakes on a Plane cruise (why not?), the Al Pacino Cruising Cruise (ka-ching!), and the ever popular Paddington Bear Cruise!

That last one, by the way, is adorable and flawless.

Infinitely better than the Flat Stanley cruise (where the wait staff keeps slipping through cracks in the floor and getting blown away by the wind, so they don’t accumulate any tip money), and the Spider-Man cruise, where they keep switching actors and retelling ‘ol webhead’s origin story, and you get to watch Uncle Ben die.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Folks, I’ve never been on a cruise.

Can you tell?

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