or signup to continue reading We'd been trapped in the ship's bar by a flabby, loud-mouthed doctor from the American midwest whose whiskey intake revealed a boorish ogre lurking within; an obnoxious Donald Trump fanboy squinting through bloodshot eyes and slurring the usual cliches. The world was falling apart, he warned. Not because of climate change - "You don't believe in that crap do ya?" - but because soft Democrats and crazy environmentalists and dangerous immigrants were ruining the planet.
I fantasised about gripping his oversized underpants, giving him an old-fashioned Australian wedgie and leaving him dangling from the ship's mast by the elastic as a lesson in manners. By the time we escaped his clutches we vowed to steer clear of the other Americans undertaking a recent cruise through the Arctic region. What was wrong with these people? At least half the passengers - many well-heeled and approaching retirement - were from the US.
All seemed burdened by the same ideological baggage that has, for more than a decade, been dividing their nation. There was no common ground. They were passionately for Trump or deeply opposed.
Instead of enjoying the wondrous views, they preferred staring inward. But there was no avoiding them. The following day a nervous couple from Los Angeles invited my wife and I to lunch.
They sounded serious and a little desperate, a sure sign a decent meal would be ruined by further talk of politics. I mumbled an insincere excuse but they were insi.