Over at the bar sat an older man, his hand inside the dress of a young, very drunk woman. Her body was bending and curving into his, grinding and pressing, the bare flesh of her back exposed like a wound. Careful and still as a predator, he was looking past her incoherent eyes to another point in the evening, waiting.

Another man, probably near 60, had a mop of charismatic grey hair and carried with him the manner that suggested a confident expectation that things were going to work out in his favour. He’d talk to anybody, fully expecting that they’d be happy, even flattered, to chat and then move tables to accommodate him. Familiar in an indistinct way and able to immediately establish a hierarchy within the place, he had the aura of celebrity.

He turned out to be John McDermott, a Scottish-Canadian tenor and sort of middle of the road performer that your parents might really like.

Incongruously, accompanying him were a group of 20-something Bros, all dressed like they were ready for a night of poker and drinking in a buddy’s kitchen. There was a raw, unkind edge to them and they were treating McDermott like he needed them more than the other way around. They were egging him on, and in short order the room was called to silence and John McDermott sang Danny Boy for us while his crew, holding cell phones in front of their faces like masks, took disinterested videos while continuing their snickering conversations with one another.

The singing was lovely, and many people looked like they felt blessed to have been present for such a spontaneous gift. But still, there was something mechanical and imposed about it, like we were tourists who had just been taken advantage of by sneering locals who now expected us to pay.

I wanted to clear my head a bit from this and stepped out on the balcony. The city was soft, fuzzy and fog-lit, the skyline glowing.

Near me on the railing arrived one of McDermott’s young crew. He was wearing a black hoodie and had a smudge of a moustache on his upper lip, and rocking his body back and forth he pulled deeply from the back of his throat and horked over the side and down to the street 18 floors below. He then went into the bar and proceeded to talk the really drunk woman away from the older, predatory man, bringing her back to his group, a trophy now, for all of them to enjoy.

The ocean is a colour of an unbelievable perfection.

The sun is shining and there is a clarifying breeze off the water.

Confident and pretty girls, each one with a naturally flirty smile, pose for photographs that will soon appear on Facebook. Other girls, with accents as sweet and naïve as a romance movie, have just arrived from England. These girls are so pale and young that they look vulnerable, as if they need somebody there to wrap a towel around their shoulders.

After about 20 minutes an announcement is made that the Captain has an urgent message for one of the passengers, Samara. Looking as if she knows she’s about to be crowned beauty queen, Samara, smiling back at her friends, coyly approaches. It’s her 21^st birthday!  She ‘s given a pink sash and has her photograph taken with her two giggling sisters, a picture of joy and beauty she will return to for the rest of her life.

The boat anchors for lunch and Jet Skis, like predators, circle the boat, the young men beckoning to the girls, “Let me take you for a ride, sister.” There is snorkeling and swimming on offer, and everybody, some swinging off a rope, other diving off a board, splash into the water. As if at the center of dance circle, each one is briefly the focus of all attention, and they are all so young and perfect that they’re practically emitting light.

A pretty German woman with a warm and sweet face has taken her mother on this cruise. The older woman is probably in her mid-70s, and it was clearly difficult for her to get in the water but she did. And when she arose into the throng of 20 year olds, all screaming and laughing and dancing, she, too, became young and luminous, and the look of shared joy, satisfaction and love that passed between daughter and mother stopped time right there in it’s beautiful tracks.