The Flag
I had the privilege of booking a Caribbean cruise on Holland America’s new ship, the Rotterdam in March, 2022. Although I was thrilled to enjoy all the amenities the newest in Holland’s fleet of majestic vessels had to offer, nothing could compare to the thoughtful and dazzling gift the casino bestowed upon me on the sixth evening of the voyage.
For as I entered into the cabin, I was surprised — nay, shocked — to discover a royal blue, finely crafted tube upon my tightly made bed, laid with obvious care and precision. I reached out gingerly and felt the heft of the tube grace my palm, like a slim and elegant branch of a Japanese cherry tree (but blue). I slowly slid the two sections of the tube apart. Huzzah! Of all the contents I could have imagined (a quill from the black tailed Godwit, sacred bird of Holland; a tightly rolled map of the Netherlands; a sheath of gilded chocolates from the farthest reaches of the Europe), nothing could have prepared me for what I discovered. It was, after all, a flag.
But this was no ordinary flag. Oh, no. It was the VIP (very important persons) flag of the Holland America’s Player’s Club. I held it with a sense of fear and awe. Was I worthy of this great honor? I reverently fingered the fine nylon. Approximately the length of a gentleman’s arm (or that of a tall woman) and the width of one cubit (the distance from the tip of one’s middle finger to the elbow).
I was struck by the simplicity of the hues, royal blue and white. One could fly this flag by either side, as each was different. How did they do it? On what is presumably the back (the starboard, if you will), is a complex Delft pattern, typical of the Dutch aesthetic. How envious the old masters would be! Vermeer would have surely flown this flag with pride. Among the blue Xs in the pattern are the symbols for the suits of cards, making clear to all who bear witness to this flag that I went to the casino.
The frontispiece (or the front, if you will), displays a blue square that holds within it, yet again, the hallowed symbols of gaming: the heart, the spade, the diamond, and the club (author’s note: simply gazing upon this flag, as I am now, chokes me with emotion).
Buy yea! I am not finished. At first, I mistook this flag to be a simple drawstring backpack that you may receive for free at a trade show (perhaps including inside a stress ball, a plastic keychain, and a local book of coupons) or when purchasing over $100 in athletic wear. But no! How could I have been so foolish to have expected such a practical, pedestrian item. I may have brought shame upon my family had I uttered this idea aloud. Fortunately, I inspected the flag with the care of an archeologist when finding a rare artifact. Please understand — this is a flag! From a casino!
Holland did not spare any expense on this item. It is constructed of two pieces of material (similar in feel to a promotional drawstring backpack), sewn together with the finest of threads China has to offer. The white front is nearly transparent, like the wing of a butterfly held to the sun. And the grommets! Sturdy, as grommet should be, for a grommet is the essence of any good flag (or free promotional nylon backpack).
But wait! There’s more. Adjacent to the grommets is a silken, spiral, thin white cord, delicate in nature, but strong, like that of the shoulder straps of a promotional nylon backpack. Dear reader . . . please indulge me for a moment. Cast a glance toward your shoes, or those of a loved one, or a stranger. Do you see the shoelaces? On the ends is a small sheath of plastic called an aglet. This flag has those! The meticulous attention to detail! This is a cord that will never (or rather, unlikely) to unravel, even under the pressure of the most tumultuous of winds. Did I mention that the cord was not simply tied into the grommets, as it would be on other, lesser flags? Rather, they are sewn into the seam, fortifying the flag with an extra measure with strength and power, obviously to resist anything the local landfill can throw at it.
As I caressed this remarkable gift, this symbol of Holland America’s devotion and commitment to me and my gambling addiction, it made a sound reminiscent of a disposable diaper wrapped in a rain poncho. I was instantly transported in my memory to the two most beautiful moments in my life — walking hand in hand with my first love in the rain on a bridge over the Seine in April, the Eiffel Tower looming in the fog in the distance like a sentinel, the cloying scent of pear blossoms and sweet serenade of La Vie En Rose drifting from the cello of a young girl under the cover of a bus stop, her raven hair damp from the rain. I think perhaps she was hungry. But not food. For love. For adventure. For romance. Anyway, we had a kid nine months later in January.
Back to the flag. I tied the cords gently at the top in an elegant knot so that I could proudly display it — and to advertise my gambling habit — to all passersby, such that their jealousy would rise in them like bile in their throat and they too would travel to Deck 3, where the music of the slot machines and the stuttering clicking of the roulette ball surges in a symphony only rivaled by the nearby Pat Benatar cover of “Love is a Battlefield” resounding from the B.B. King lounge. Alas, this beautiful flag sagged in the middle, as I only had one extra magnet on which to hang it. This is not a flaw with the flag! I take total and full responsibility.
On the last day of our voyage, with the rest of my possessions packed, I carefully and reluctantly removed the flag from the door with great gravitas and sadness. The cruise was over. We must now leave the Rotterdam and her grand atrium, her buffet on the Lido deck (a veritable horn of plenty), her gracious and congenial staff, her brave and sure captain, her two refreshing pools, her tranquil and rejuvenating spa, her talent upon The World Stage, and the unlimited drink package. As I write this, the Player’s Club flag rests nearby, like an old friend, like a lover, like a promotional backpack, full of sound and fury, signifying my $37 loss at the casino. Although I lost $37, I gained a priceless memento, now all I have to do is buy a flagpole.