Here I Go Again

It’s almost that time again. That time of year when I get on a Royal Caribbean ship and go back in time with about 4000 other 80s enthusiasts, usually the same ship that has just the previous week hosted the same number of Trekkies from around the world. Yes, the world. And although our 80s passengers are largely American by citizenship, we seem to grow more and more each year in nationalities. I’ve met lots of Canadians, Brits, Australians, New Zealanders, and a few French along the way. I’m sure there are others, but even I can only work the crowds so much! (I’m too busy illegally taping the Q&A’s and performances to post bits on Facebook so everyone back home can catch glimpses of the radical costumes and tubular activities we have access to as 80s Cruisers!) I’ve intrepidly packed my checked bag with most of my clothes for the week – a different 80s-themed t-shirt for each day (that’s it, no “normal” tops, all bands and 80’s movies), all the Duran Duran swag to hang on the door to decorate after we get there – the posters, the bumper stickers, the license plates, the bandana, the tea towel, the beach towel for the backdrop (and all those super-powered magnets to keep things in place on the door for the whole week). The carry-on will be packed today with clothes for the first two days, and toiletries I’ll need for the first night and full day in Miami, my meds. And I’ll have a back-pack of pure essentials – the guitar picks we ordered to hand out at the Swag Party (Sheila E./ Glamorous Life/ 2025 and Adam Ant/ Goody Two Shoes/ 2025); a bag to hold the swag we get at the Swag Party – I learned from last year’s mistake of just trying to balance things as we handed out and collected – it was quite the challenge; and of course a journal to jot down anything that might come to mind while we’re Saillllll-ing (Christopher Cross will be with us this year, too). I will, no doubt cry when the dj plays “We Are the World” at the party as we’re preparing to leave the port, an annual tradition where I always cry. But I cry all week! At some point during nearly every show I’ve ever been to, some song with some significance from when I was 13-17 comes back to me in all its glory and emotional fullness that it held for me at that age, and I just lose it during the concert. Most are love songs, of course, which no one ever sang to me, played for me, dedicated to me, etc., when I was a teenager and craved it most. And now, all these years later, I stand there hearing these songs again as a woman in her 50s, standing beside the love of my life, a love like I never knew existed, and I realize that I’m trying to send messages back in time to 17-year-old Chrissie to tell her it’s okay. Those songs will always be bittersweet, but they’ll carry her forward to the days where someone she never would have ended up with in the 80s not only takes her out, not only thinks she’s cool and funny, not only proposes to her, but loves her unconditionally. That’s worth some teenage heartache in the end to have a pretty happy adulthood and twilight years. I laugh all week, too, not just cry. I laugh at the goofy things we all said and did. I love this time travel, the absence of current reality. I love turning on the TV to watch MTV with real videos. And all the cool movies from that part of my life – back when I went to the movies. I live for this week every year. I love the vibes of it all. I love the memories I already have and the new ones I make each year. I love the 80s. Bring on the Roper Romp and Golden Girls vs. Miami Vice!