The Taxonomy of Shipboard Creatures – Part 7

Alas, dear readers, it is time to wrap up this exercise with a noteworthy species indeed.

Misanthropes: These appallingly unfriendly creatures are, happily, remarkably elusive.  Indeed, we have only been able to positively identify two of them on board this ship.  They usually prefer to remain cloistered within their stateroom and balcony with the Privacy Please sign stuck in the door.  They rarely venture forth, emerging only occasionally to dine and sometimes to observe and make notes about the appearance and behaviour of others aboard the ship.  They do this with an air of academic disdain, leaving one with the impression that they are classifying their fellow passengers into groups for some bizarre taxonomy scheme.  When invited to join others for an occasional game of trivia or at a dining table, misanthropes invariably refuse, preferring their own company.  Misanthropes naturally project a certain arrogance that usually prevents others from approaching.  Consequently, when misanthropes dine in the formal dining room, a twenty-yard radius of empty tables typically surrounds them; the tables may have been full on day one but by day 3 all have left their vicinity.  Even the waiters approach their table only fleetingly.  Misanthropes are easy to identify when they venture cautiously from their staterooms because their pockets bulge with bottles of hand sanitizer that they perpetually use whenever they find themselves within ten feet of another passenger.  Occasionally the male of this species can be spotted spraying himself with free samples of the various colognes available for sale in the onboard shop, thereby confirming the long-held belief that misanthropes are not only antisocial, but cheap as well.