A Tale of a Tub

The aroma of my cabin was a base of l’eau de diesel, with top notes of hamster. Credit Illustration by Barry Blitt. Call him Ishmael. Call me Insane. Some time ago, I had a hankering: wouldn’t it be lovely to take a break from the hurly-burly of landlubber life and the oppressive, never-ending connecting with everybody and everything? What could be more restorative than to voyage across the Atla…