Unexpected Gaming on the Carribean

Using up some much needed vacation time, I went on a cruise to the Carribean right before Christmas this year. I had been to one cruise before with the parents to Alaska, which was a lot of fun, but this was my first time going with college friends. I’m sure my impression of a cruise is the same as yours and I was really looking forward to days of overeating, partying, exploring, and relaxing. While we did do all those things, there was one activity I can’t say I was expecting: competitive Jenga.

It wasn’t long until we discovered the ship’s game room. Our days were taken up by shore excursions and exploring the sports deck of the ship, but nighttime was a different story. Dinner time for us was 6 pm, and despite often ordering several appetizers, main courses, and desserts we were normally done by 8. Our other main activity was heading into “The Vault,” the ship’s nightclub, which we couldn’t really do until 10 or so. This is when we’d head up to the game room.

The game room was far from the prettiest room on the ship. It was largely undecorated, with blue carpet and bare walls. A glass door leading to a deck outside was obstructed by a big caution sign. The room was sparsely inhabited to begin with, but when there were people there it was a combination of senior folks playing bridge and families trying to keep their young kids occupied.

It was in this environment that we walked in and started playing semi-sober, obscenity-laden Jenga. “Fuuuuuuuuck!!!” we’d say after realizing the piece we picked was squarely wedged in the tower. Trash talk would fly back and forth about how “you just certified your incompetence as a Jenga player.” After a successful piece was plucked, we’d return to our drinks that we’d brought in from the bar next door. Inevitably the shacky table legs, natural rocking of the ship, and alcohol would lead the Jenga tower to crash.

That may have been the end of it for some groups. But not us. After a session or two of blissfully ignorant Jenga, the analysis began. We quickly uncovered a few Jenga basics: 1) choose a piece which has space around it to increase your chance it isn’t wedged in the tower, 2) look at both sides of the tower to make sure that a piece is truly free, 3) if a tower is leaning, the side leaned toward is more likely to have structure bearing pieces.

Soon Jenga games are being played for rounds of drinks. Advanced Jenga techniques are developed and not shared. There are no take-backs – select a structure bearing piece and deal with the consequences. Fever does maximum damage to the tower on innocent pieces, just to cause chaos for the person following him. I innovate with the “lightning pull” to deal with particularly snug pieces (friction is minimized the quicker you pull out a piece). Pieces are twisted, lifted, and tapped, out of the tower – anything to prevent the tower from being destroyed.

In the midst of one of these “intense” games, one of us hypothetically brings up the ultimate Jenga challenge – pulling out a single middle block which supports the rest of the tower. This culminates in a situation where we decide to just stop playing the game and concentrate on improving our Jenga technique. We call this “Jenga Academy.” We frantically build up mock towers with only a middle block holding up a few stories and attempt to pull the piece out. It seems doable, and indeed it is – after several tries, Spamus is the first to succeed. Immediately after, we set up a real game so Spamus can try out the technique “on the field.”

Two moves later, Spamus has an opportunity, which he greets with open arms. Spamus explains that he needs to first “channel his chi.” Apparently the way this worked was by posing in various freeze frame action poses reminiscent of a 1950s Chinese karate movie. Spamus then began a drawn out “Hiii-yaaAAAAAA” yell. Meanwhile, his hand approached and pulled away from the target piece, as if taking practice swings before a critical golf shot. A final yell, he plucks the piece out, the remainder of the tower falls down, a nervous beat while we await the crash, but somehow, stability. Spamus has done it – victory and high-fives all around!

Needless to say, when we were done with our Jenga session that day, there was no one left in the game room.

While that move was the culmination of our Jenga cruise, strangely, it was not the last we would hear of the game. Two months later, T-dag has flown down to visit us. She excitedly informs us that her boss uses Jenga for different purposes. Apparently, he has a 100% success rate of hooking up with a woman who comes back to his place if the two of them sit down and play Jenga together. Does T-dag’s boss play vanilla Jenga? Or does he apply obsessive analysis and kung-fu yells in the midst of the action? Though the former is probably more likely, I must admit a part of me hopes it’s the latter.