CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE: WON'T SOMEBODY TAKE ME ON A SEA CRUISE?

Repeat after me: Beach. Mexico. Dancing waiters. When do we leave?

Some friends and I are thinking of hitting the high seas.

No, we're not going to become opera singers. And no cracks about the fat lady singing.

An acquaintance who works for a local travel agency has just about talked us into booking a cruise this winter.

Seven days on a big boat headed for the Caribbean and Mexico.

Or as my buddy Sondra kept repeating, "Beach. Mexico. Dancing waiters."

It's sort of become my mantra. Maybe if the sun comes out again, I'll have something new on which to fixate.

I mean meditate.

Sondra left out the 24-hour buffet, which is probably just as well, since we'll more than likely have to wear swimsuits in public for at least part of the voyage.

It was a long winter. It's been a long, cold spring. It will be a long, hot summer. A week on a cruise ship would make a nice break from all those long, fill-in-the-blank weeks.

Everyone I know who's gone on a cruise has raved about the trip. The beaches, the boat, the buffet. The dancing waiters.

I'm a little nervous, though, about being stuck on a ship. Personally, I like being surrounded by solid ground.

Years ago, I went to Florida with my parents and stood staring out at the Atlantic, pondering the fact that the next land mass was a really long way off.

I almost hyperventilated, but Mom and Pop got me inland very quickly.

Since then, I've always wanted beaches to feature those yellow diamond "caution" signs, like they put on highways.

"Warning: Continent ends, one-half mile."

I've been in the Midwest too long.

But they have to let us into port sooner or later, right?

I told my friend Mitch, the tax lawyer, about our semi-plans.

He immediately started envisioning disaster movies.

"Remember the Titanic," he said. "It could get ugly."

I pointed out that it's highly unlikely the ship will run into any icebergs in the Caribbean, unless the icemakers go berserk.

"Pirates, then. Terrorists. Sharks," he replied. "Kathy Lee Gifford could be on board."

Not for long.

We didn't go in for big vacations when I was a kid. No hooking up the travel trailer and heading for the Grand Canyon. We usually just went to the Lake of the Ozarks.

This was when Lake of the Ozarks was a cheap vacation, not a resort, and Branson was a wide spot in a narrow road.

Most of my memories seem to be of spit-fighting with my brother while my sister got carsick and my mother reminded my father to watch his blood pressure.

Maybe I could get Kathy Lee into a spit-fight.

I think we all get to a point where it's nice to just kick back and dream of some place warm and breezy with palm trees and lots of cold drinks with little umbrellas in them.

Repeat after me: Beach. Mexico. Dancing waiters.

Peggy O'Farrell is a copy editor for the Southeast Missourian.