Navel Maneuvers

A fat guy who swam in Jell-O, a Grand Canyon of female cleavage, and enough Wesson oil for a fried-chicken cookoff. We watched it all so you wouldn't have to.

After nearly seven hours at sea, the Scandinavian Dawn returned to port, the patrons financially drained, the dancers exhausted. Not since World War II had so many men been taken out to sea and left so sexually frustrated. Jabba's pals had long since abandoned him to a deck chair, where he sprawled, passed out and hardening to a high green gloss.

For Sherry the cruise turned out to be a mixed blessing. As she had predicted at the outset, her principled stance against friction dancing proved costly. "I only made $60 dancing," she reported glumly. Then a grin stretched across her face. "But I made $2300 playing blackjack!"

Weary of the debauchery, a SeaEscape crew member squeegeed the Jell-O off the deck, muttering to himself, "This is really disgusting." Another employee of the cruise line took to the ship's loudspeakers, demanding that everyone disembark immediately. But Michael J. Peter, still surrounded by naked women in the Grand Lounge, wasn't quite ready for his party to end. He commanded the band, who call themselves Stark Naked, to continue. Pop singer Jeffrey Osborne, the only real celebrity sighted during the excursion, joined in for a few songs.

"This was the party to end all parties," Peter shouted, then began plugging the next nude cruise, tentatively scheduled for March. "Tell everyone," he exhorted. "Tell the world!"

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