“It’s not mine!” I exclaim as he unwraps it and points it at me.
The guard pulls the plastic trigger, and the entire contraption starts vibrating. The tip pulsates in and out, in and out, while lights flash inside its plastic pistol grip. Even more embarrassing is the whoopee noise it makes, whoop, whoop, whoop, like the siren on a child’s toy space-gun.
The crowd is shocked silent for a split second before nervous laughter breaks out, turning into a full-fledged roar.
“It’s not mine!” I cry again, whirling around to face a bevy of cell phone cameras in video mode.
“As far as I know, there’s no rule against, ahem, whatever we think this is,” the security guard guffaws. He turns off the device and bunches it up with the aluminum foil. “Here.”
I refuse to take it, so he dumps it in my bag along with my hot-pink bikini, toiletries, makeup, and flip-flops.
My cheeks are boiling as I take my carry-on, duck between the crowd taking my picture, and scramble onto the gangway ahead of the large group still laughing and busy uploading my video to social media.
The young man wearing sunglasses gallops after me as if he wants to ask me for an autograph, but I dodge him by slipping through a set of double doors and up a winding set of stairs to my cabin.
Thankfully, it’s one that faces the outside and has a balcony. I step out, only to realize it’s facing the ocean side and I cannot spot Jade, if she’s still on the dock.
If she’s the one who put the embarrassing toy in my bag, I’m going to kill her. I pull out my phone and text her all innocent-like, wondering if she’s on board already.
Why isn’t she here to bask in her prank? Or to show me a video of my humiliation?
After I text my family to let them know I’m safe, I throw my carry-on onto my bunk, freshen my makeup, and decide to brave the Sail Away Party on the top deck to watch the ship leave the harbor.
I’m about to step out of my cabin when someone knocks on the door.
It’s the man with the aviator glasses who wore the biggest, smirkiest grin when I got caught with the suspicious object.
“I don’t know you,” I yelp and slam the door in his face.
