All Aboard Below Deck!
Cos who doesn't want to watch bitching on a boat?
Image: Reality Blurred
Warning: if you’ve ever worked in customer service, you absolutely will find this show triggering.
Okay, so let me just start by saying that this show feels like when our parents started getting Facebook, because I’m that late to the party. Sorry, I had a baby, and I'm using that as my excuse 'til I die. This show started in 2013, but the first two seasons just dropped on Netflix and by some miracle of divine intervention my boyfriend wanted to watch something I did, so I’ve dived (pardon the pun) right in.
It’s about a bunch of 20-somethings (with honestly no direction in life, so you feel better about yourself already) working on a yacht in the Caribbean. And when I say yacht, think luxe, like what Christian Grey owns, not your 'yacht' from Sail Croatia. (Although I do have a new-found respect for the Novi Dan crew.) The show is about their lives for six months of the year when they just cruise around the Caribbean making sweet tips and solid drama.
So, who's onboard? There’s the British chef, who feels a bit Lewis Carroll-esque, like he’s drunk 24/7, but he’s also a culinary genius. If I had squillions, I’d pay for just him to be my personal chef and make me gourm cheesies and Michelin star foods I’ve never heard of in my suburban existence.
Then there’s Kat, who is so relatable because you have this friend, the one that flips a switch and turns on a completely batshit personality as soon as she has a single vodka cruiser.
The rest of the crew across Seasons One and Two are a revolving door of people trying to find themselves, in each other (thank you, thank you).
The yacht guests themselves, while undoubtedly swimming in ca$h moneyzzz, (forking out a casual $150K to charter the yacht for five days, living), are no Christian Grey. They’re not refined, or hot. They’re… what’s the American equivalent of cashed-up bogan? Cashed up, rednecks? Billion-dollar bros? They’re generally obnoxious and middle-aged, maybe with a side of ‘paid escort guests’ and a general under-appreciation for any food you can’t get at Taco Bell. But I guess if you can fork out a tip for a five day holiday that's bigger than my annual salary, not only do I need a new job, but I spose then you can afford to be a complete knob.
There’s the 20-something-year-old son of a guest who gives the yachties a heavy serving of Karen after his drink isn’t filled up.
The middle-aged Snookis (and not Snooki now, we're talking Snooki peak Jersey Shore) who wear Forever 21, diamante-studded crotchless panties and have fried chicken for breakfast, but also order a jar of caviar to make sure everyone knows they got dollar bills y’all!