Dear Reluctant Cruiser,

Did you complain when you received a Porsche instead of a Lamborghini for your 16th birthday, too? Did you scream in grocery aisles because your mother bought generic Fruit Loops instead of the Kellogg’s brand? Are you currently called an ungrateful brat on a regular basis? If not, allow me to be the first. From what you’ve written, I would say you wear the title well, even if you do purport to have a penis.

In all seriousness, you are complaining about a gift many people will never receive. Shut up. If you can offer your parents constructive alternatives, feel free to do so. But, do not demand your parents to spend more money on you. They may be stretching their finances thin to take your immediate family on this boat. If you want a deluxe suite, you should act like an adult and pay for it yourself.

Otherwise, you sound and smell just like a toddler screaming himself into an angry vomit of generic Fruit Loops and carrots to receive a deluxe Transformer. Just to let you know, this type of child is often smothered by its suddenly deranged mother. Unless you want to die with your Batman Returns pillow firmly planted over your air holes, I suggest you grow up immediately.

As for making the best of this situation, I have a few other suggestions. One, propose other similarly priced alternatives to your parents before they buy tickets. If they already purchased your place on the boat, figure out what interests you the most about this trip, and tell yourself you are going to have fun. Much of having fun is expecting you will actually have it. Though there are many reasons to dislike cruises (read David Foster Wallace’s “10 Supposedly Fun Things I’ll Never Do Again” for a few ideas), not spending enough money hardly qualifies.

Two, you need to realize you are not having actual issues. Life altering problems (i.e. real issues) range from physical abuse—such as beating children with socks full of quarters or farting on a paraplegic—to emotional abuse—such as calling one’s daughter a pig beast or forcing a man on his death bed to listen to Celine Dion on repeat. These are real traumatic issues, which cause real psychological problems. By these standards, I doubt you are even being inconvenienced. Get over it.

Three, drink your whiny ass into oblivion. These boats have bars. Use them. Do not leave them. Do whatever you need to do to suppress your inner preteen diva. You will find yourself feeling good, and others will find you tolerable. I highly recommend never letting a drink leave your hand. If you are a nagging drunk, I suggest you pop a couple of sleeping pills, turn the lights of your cabin very low, and do not come out until you see the sun shine. Hopefully, your parents have purchased you a room without any sort of porthole.

In case you haven’t deciphered my drivng point yet, I’ll be a little more explicit. Quit nagging for your perfect fantasy world, and celebrate life as that thing which is imperfect, yet wonderful and always fleeting. Think of this vacation—however Vegas-like it may be—as a chance to be with your family, and enjoy it as best you can. Are cruises cheesy, absurd, and exploitive of lesser economies? Sure. However, it’s time you’ll never get back. Embrace it.

These are my words: abide.

Dr. Toughlove

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