A Rant, Definitely Not a Rave
My cruise (not cruising) experience.
A cruise is not my travel modus operandi. But when a family vacation beckons well…bon voyage and away I go. Before I dive in, know that I feel quite fortunate to go on vacation- any vacation, anywhere and anytime. So what comes next are simply observations more fitting and funny to share with y'all rather than Yelp. So this week I’m taking a hiatus from writing about raves to take you on a trip to this big a*s boat’s alternative universe which makes me treasure our scene even more.
This wasn’t my first cruise. However, it had been 20ish years since my last embarkation so I had an idea of what I was in for. Let’s start off with the cruisers, who were surprisingly more diverse than I remembered. Another positive is that the accessibility this type of trip offers is a dream come true for some, which made me understand its value in a new light.
Now let’s get into the tea…there were many questionable outfits and oddly placed indoors no shirt no shoes moments, but that’s no surprise and I’m not here to judge any of that. Style is in the eye of the beholder after all. And I’m sure some were as confused by my lewks as I was by their version of “boating chic.” I’ll keep the vessel’s visual description short and artificially sweet as is its design. Visually there’s no panache, just some slight splash. Think massive indoor/outdoor amusement park whose restaurants far exceed the number of rides. A lackadaisical and lackluster land of plenty sailing on a sea of make believe that makes Disney World look authentic.
As is the growing trend in our capitalistic and opportunistic culture, the amount of add ons is obscene. Want a soda? An a la carte can is $3.50 or upgrade to unlimited corn syrup for $13/day. They couldn’t just include it in the overall package per person price?! We all know that soda costs pennies on the dollar. In the mood for a premade and grossly sweet daiquiri or pina colada? Get ready to shell out $14 each time. Umbrella not included. If Bud Light or Corona is more your thing, that’ll be $7.49.
Heck, I live in NYC and I’m shocked by the prices. How folks from Timbuktu aren’t outraged is beyond me. But like everything else, you can upgrade to a choice of drink packages for another $60-110/day. The inevitable result of this not-free for all is the slew of sloshy and sloppy people unable to hold their liquor. At all.
Want off the boat and interested in an excursion? A daytime visit to the cruise owned water park located on their pantomimed private island will set you back $200/per person. Interested in having your kids learn to decorate cupcakes for a few hours? That’ll be $50 per person. It’s bewildering to think how the average family can squander for such absurdly expensive and overpriced endeavors. But then I remembered people love credit cards and their high interest rates which tack on on top.
What is included is a sh*t ton of food. Forget quality, quantity is the name of this gorge-unworthy game. Heaps of food dolled out at every hour of every day. The breakfast buffet has the choices of a bakery, Waffle House, Denny’s, Cracker Barrel, Indian and Asian restaurants combined. Still hungry? No worries, there’s only 30 minutes between breakfast, lunch and dinner buffets, so you can park yourself at the ceaseless smorgasbord the entire day.
If you want a formal dining experience, dinner is served nightly in the dining room. Most of the menu is included in the all-inclusive price, but no activity would be complete without some upgrades like surf and turf to tempt you. If the senseless overindulgence bothers you and you decide to use your menu choices to make an impact, you’re out of luck. There’s no such thing as splitting a dish. I know because we tried.
The friendly waitstaff waves off your wants and brings more food than your table can handle and didn’t even order. And couldn’t possibly eat. Plastic cloche after cloche reveals plate after plate. Cruising along but missing your favorite chain restaurants? Forget the included meals you already paid for and waste your money to eat at Johnny Rockets, Benihana or the bonanza of basic restaurants instead.
Back in your room as you reflect on the copious carnival of consumption you notice a sign posted on your bathroom mirror letting you know you can relieve your troubled eco-consciousness by simply reusing your towels. More lazy corporate trickery offloading their eco-culpability on the consumer. A net-net for numbnuts who think their small actions will offset extreme corporate waste.
But what really made me want to write this review was the belly flop contest. It was the coup de gras, the final day’s activity. I was alerted to the competition as I took in the final day’s rays of Carribean sun. I was nonplussed and not going to move an inch until I saw the influx of people jetting out of the pool and their lounge chairs to lay eyes on this snooze worthy crescendo event.
No other activity got close to the attention that this contest drew. Because I was late to rush up and witness the game myself, I ran around the deck standing on my tippy toes straining to see what all the fuss was about. It took me so long to search for a suitable spot that I missed two contestants. Some people were super ornery too- this one guy was bogarting an entire balcony with plenty of room to spare and just blew up at me.
Alas I had a decent view. My eyebrows raised and then furrowed in disbelief at the poor excuse of a platform to plop. If you’re going to have a belly flop competition, then for f*ck’s sake, have some height to accentuate gravity which maximizes the smack, splot and severely sting worthy sploosh. But the best this cruise could do was one step up above the pool. That’s right, about 12” about the water line.
How that excuse for a competition could call that much attention and enthusiasm is beyond me. The orchestrator of this facsimile gladiator event announced each contestant’s name and weight to the roar of the crowd. And I’m in no way body shaming. I’m all for celebrating all shapes and sizes, but the stoopid spectacle was simply something to see. From a feeble foot up, folks flaccidly flopped on their face. All it would take to step up this game was a few more steps or perhaps *gasp* a diving board. A reason for being for this bullshittery of bloated bravado.
It was less exciting than anything else I had seen on the ship including the waiters’ conga line dance at dinner. Though there’s no way in hell I would’ve attended, I’m sure the “family silent disco” aka silent rave was more enthralling. But no matter, my point of view was obviously in the minority of the massive crowd as the non-event continued. This celebration culminating 4 days of 24 hour consumption existed as a reward for the reams of food digested and the indigestion that followed. Reckless waste is unfortunately no surprise in this world. But there’s something that still stuns when it’s squarely in sight while stuck on a ship day after day and meal after meal.
All in all, if your thing is manufactured leisure at a marked-up and then some cost- cruises are the way to go. Though I knew I’d miss my family, I was more than happy to disembark and fly back to NYC. Where the umpteen things that increasingly made little sense suddenly seemed slightly more sane in comparison.