I Got Bamboozled by a Painting of a Melting Sandwich

Let me set the scene. It's day three of my seven-day Caribbean cruise on Princess Cruises' Emerald Princess, and I'm feeling pretty good about life. The sun is warm, the piña coladas are flowing freely, and I've somehow managed to avoid the dessert buffet for two consecutive meals—a personal record. I'm strolling through the Atrium on Deck 5 when I notice a crowd gathering outside what looks like a fancy gallery space. There's a sign that says "Fine Art Auction & Champagne Reception" with an arrow pointing inside. I love champagne. I love looking at art. This seems like a no-brainer. I walk in and immediately feel underdressed. Everyone is holding champagne flutes and speaking in hushed, reverent tones about "composition" and "movement" and other words that make me feel like I'm supposed to know more than I do. There's a tall man with slicked-back hair and an accent I can't quite place standing near a painting of what appears to be a giant purple blob with yellow streaks. He's wearing a blazer that costs more than my car payment, and he's gesturing dramatically at the canvas like he's conducting a symphony. "This piece," he announces to the room, "represents the artist's inner str…