That night, brushing aside pale, Poe-like visions of men and women clambering up the port side of the ship and rolling onto my balcony, I lay awake wondering what happened to the Sri Lankans offloaded at Phuket. The luckless gang of 10 had missed the last tender at the gangway after an excursion on the island (tarrying is taboo on international waters). Did they watch the SuperStar Virgo, effulgent against the twilight sky, pull away from the shore Or was the blow less cruel Did they miss not being at the captain&rsquos ball Or were they glad to trade it for a night at Patong&rsquos go-go bars I never found out. No one did. Thrown into a sea of distractions, we were too busy counting the free credits on our F&B cards, watching Vegas-style shows, carrying jaded tunes at the karaoke bar, restaurant-hopping (there are over 10) and trying our luck at the casino. It was the last night of our 3N/4D trip down the Strait of Malacca on the Singapore-Penang-Phuket-Singapore circuit, and there was not a moment to lose.