This was a boat I couldn’t miss. Twelve hundred women. Port calls in Belize, Mexico, Honduras. A slew of incredible voluntourism opportunities. A hectic party schedule. Fourteen decks of restaurants, bars and lounges. With enticements such as these, my friend Maggie and I couldn’t resist new, environmentally-conscious, lesbian tour operator Sweet’s inaugural voyage. We had to be there. Inconveniently, a precocious tropical storm called Ida felt the same. As Maggie and I were sashaying up the gangplank in New Orleans, Ida was howling round the corner of the Yucatan Peninsula, threatening to reach hurricane strength in time for our blind date in the Gulf of Mexico that night.

We tore out of New Orleans early to try and reach the mouth of the Mississippi before Ida did, gliding past flame-spouting refineries, vast tankers and silent swamp, snaking our way through the bayou to the Gulf. The news percolated through the ship that Ida had strengthened to hurricane level two, with gusts up to 120 mph, and she was heading our way. This struck fear into our hearts. So did the fact that there had been a gastroenteritis outbreak on board and 12% of last week’s passengers succumbed to it. We quaked at the prospect of a storm both inside and out. Far more frightening, however, was the sighting of five lesbians gamboling about in lederhosen.

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