If you haven’t heard about a new cruise ship called Oasis of the Seas, let me tell you a bit about it: it accommodates 6,296, has four pools, 21 restaurants, a spa where Botox injections are available and an atrium called Central Park with 12,000 trees and shrubs.
Frankly, I’d rather spend my vacation on the New York subway. At least I can get off.
Gigantic ships don’t excite me, nor do gigantic hotels, offices, cars, restaurants, stores, apartment buildings, food portions, menu selections, airplanes, parties, awards dinners, committees, and heels on shoes. I’m not even nuts about gigantic diamonds.
Why would anyone want to be on a ship with so many people that restaurant reservations are required? (I read that many of the restaurants are booked up before the ship even sails.) Or wear shoes with heels so high they wobble with every step?
I also don’t get the point of a gigantic house or apartment, unless a gigantic family is living there. I know people who only use their living room as a path to their dens. How many rooms can one or two people live in at once, anyway?
I like charming, intimate, accessible, comfortable and manageable.