Lost in the Atlantic: My Night Under a Million Stars

I've been on five cruises in my life, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that I've never actually *looked* at the stars while at sea. Sure, I've glanced up, noticed it was dark, maybe pointed out the Big Dipper to my wife, and called it a night. But three nights into our Celebrity Constellation voyage, somewhere between the Azores and absolutely nowhere, everything changed. It started with insomnia. I'd eaten too much at the Tuscan Grille that evening—their osso buco is legitimately dangerous—and I was lying in my cabin staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the ship's engines. My wife Sarah was out cold next to me, peacefully snoring in that way that's somehow both annoying and adorable. I checked my phone. 2:47 AM. Perfect. I'd been tossing for about an hour, so I decided to get up and walk it off rather than keep her awake with my restlessness. I grabbed a hoodie from the closet and headed out into the hallway. The Constellation at night is this eerie, peaceful place. The corridor lights were dimmed to that ambient level that makes everything look slightly dreamlike. I wandered through the ship for a bit, past the darkened theater, the quiet casino, the AquaSpa…