I was ready to break into "Hooray for Captain Spaulding," but Brian Krug was neither an African explorer nor a Schnorrer.

But he was, like the boat he was helming, right on the Marx.

There I was, eager to board Gateway Clipper's massive Majestic, ready to enjoy a Sunday night dinner and dance cruise.

The weather was perfect. The inside decks were lushly air-conditioned. There was a skipper, maybe a millionaire and his wife, maybe even a professor and a movie star.

There was no Gilligan, but there were Vickie and Paul.

My waitress, Tiffany Amato, let me in on the secret about 30 minutes into the voyage: Paul was going to ask his gal pal Vickie to marry him during the cruise.

But this was no mere pop-the-question-as-we-pop-open-a-bottle-of-asti-spumante ($33, not included in the price of the cruise). Paul was doing it Big Time, and I wanted to be part of the amorous adventure.

After a lavish buffet (including breaded chicken, chopped sirloin, penne with alfredo sauce, bacon and spinach salad and three different desserts), I found the couple standing at the bridge of the boat ... not like Garbo as Queen Christina but much like Leo and Katie in Titanic.

They were young and clearly in love. A nuzzle here. A smooch there. Another nuzzle ... well, you remember youth and raging hormones.

And then ... the sign.

Hanging over the side of the West End Bridge was a white sheet emblazoned with:

WILL YOU MARRY ME VICKIE?

She began to cry as he got down on one knee, took out the ring and handed it to her with eager anticipation. Hundreds of people were watching, yet this was not one of those classic Turner Classic Movie minutes.

It was just he, she, the ring and the lapping of the Monongahela. Vickie said yes, Paul slipped the ring on her finger and gave a thumbs-up signal to the three conspirators waiting on the bridge for the answer.

Over the loudspeaker, Captain Krug announced the news to those who missed the moment. More applause, more congratulatory handshakes.

And a man standing next to me hoping, perhaps too loudly, that "they don't start the honeymoon here and now."

And you thought The Love Boat had been permanently docked.

I cannot promise you that such heartfelt Hallmark moments will take place on your cruise, but I can tell you this: You will have fun. You will be fed. You will see the city float by in a serene, safe way that redefines "sightseeing."

I sat at Table 7, but unlike the Byham and Benedum, there are no "bad" seats, no "bad" tables, though Tiffany tells me that most people prefer sitting on the first deck because there's more leg room.

Who cares? The Gateway Clipper has been around for 50 years, and now I know why.

The Majestic may hold 1,000 people, and even if it was full, there's more than enough room to move and mingle

The outside deck is where you go to experience the warm breeze and unobstructed skyline, where you go to snap those Kodak moments and (if you must) smoke.

But please don't do what I saw too many people doing: tossing their butts into the water instead of moving their butts over to the ashtrays close at hand.

On Sunday's cruise, passengers came in all sizes and shapes and ages ... some were in shorts and short sleeves, a few in blazers and ballgowns. The table next to me was hosting a birthday party; a bit farther along, swaying pink and white balloons targeted the table where a wedding anniversary was being celebrated.

A gaggle of young girls wearing plastic silver tiaras were easy to spot, especially on the dance floor, where their faux-jewel headpieces sparkled (almost) as brightly as Vickie's engagement ring.

Diamonds may be forever, but a couple of hours sailing the seas of the Steel City is a jewel.