Rain, Karaoke, and the Worst Dinner Show Ever (Best Day Ever)

The weather forecast had looked perfect when we boarded the Discovery Princess in San Juan. Seven days of Caribbean sunshine, turquoise waters, and those Instagram-worthy sunset moments. My wife Karen had packed exactly one light jacket—the kind you bring just in case, knowing you'll never need it. Spoiler alert: we needed it. Day three hit us like a wet mop to the face. And I mean that literally. We were walking along the Promenade Deck toward breakfast when a gust of wind pushed a wave of spray directly into my face, soaking my khaki shorts and the cruise itinerary I'd printed out like some kind of analog dinosaur. Karen laughed so hard she snorted her coffee. The sky had turned this weird shade of gray that reminded me of my old filing cabinet, and the ocean looked less like a postcard and more like a washing machine on the spin cycle. "Well," Karen said, linking her arm through mine, "I guess we're doing this." I wanted to be disappointed. I really did. We'd paid good money for this cruise, and I'd been looking forward to lounging by the pool with a frozen drink and pretending I had abs. Instead, the pool had been closed due to waves, the main promenade was getting hosed down…