50 Days Until Paradise. Travel Companion Position Still Open.

My cruise app tells me I set sail in 50 days, 9 hours, 34 minutes, and 44 seconds.

I appreciate the precision. Apparently, Royal Caribbean knows exactly when my vacation begins, while I’m still trying to figure out how to get to Tampa without needing a vacation from getting to Tampa.

I’m booked on Radiance of the Seas for a four-night Western Caribbean cruise, October 29 through November 2. Four nights of ocean views, someone else making dinner, and pretending that walking to the buffet counts as a fitness program.

First, however, there’s the transportation situation.

My flight leaves Charleston at 5 a.m. and goes to Tampa through Miami. Because apparently, to get to the vacation, I must first fly past the vacation and circle back after the airline has had time to think about it.

To make that flight, I figure I’d leave home at 3:30 a.m., arrive at the airport around 4, and give myself an hour before departure.

That’s my current calculation, anyway. It assumes security cooperates and I can operate pants at 3 in the morning.

A 5 a.m. flight isn’t an early flight. It’s an overnight emergency you paid for.

Meanwhile, driving to Tampa takes about seven hours. By the time I add the airport trip, security, boarding, flying south, sitting in Miami questioning my choices, and flying back north, I could practically be there in my own car.

In the car, I control the temperature. My luggage travels with me. And if there’s a delay, I can usually identify the cause: I stopped for snacks and accidentally bought lunch, fudge, and a decorative item.

Yes, driving involves traffic. But flying involves traffic too—only someone announces it over a speaker while I sit strapped to furniture.

So I’m leaning toward driving, preferably heading down the day before. Give me a reasonable buffer, a hotel bed, and a departure time that doesn’t require negotiating with the undead.

Then there’s the ship.

Radiance is an older ship, which is fine. I’m not exactly a fresh delivery from the shipyard myself. At this stage, I respect anything that still travels well and has functioning air-conditioning.

I’ve also learned Tampa has limits on the size of cruise ships it can accommodate. Relatable. I can no longer accommodate certain things either, including drama and dinner reservations after 8:30.

Besides, I have an MSC cruise in January and Utopia of the Seas out of Port Canaveral in April. My vacation calendar is developing nicely.

My romantic calendar remains a blank document with excellent formatting.

The reservation currently says “1 Adult.”

A little judgmental, Royal Caribbean. You could have written “Independent Traveler.” “Man of Mystery.” “Still Accepting Applications.”

But no. 1 Adult.

And even that feels like an optimistic assessment of someone considering seven hours behind the wheel to avoid waking up early for a flight.

There is, as yet, no future ex-wife joining me. The position remains open. Ideal qualifications include a sense of humor, enthusiasm for cruising, and the ability to say, “Let’s just drive,” before I spend three evenings comparing transportation options.

Until then, I have a cabin, a countdown, and several vacations booked.

Love may be unpredictable, but at least my next relationship with a buffet has a confirmed start date.