Florida. 2020.

Vacationing with kids is fun. Vacationing without them is more fun, at least for the adults. When the vacation involves children, the whole trip becomes about them, if it wasn’t already. Are they having a good time? Has everyone eaten? Did we leave one of them at the last gas station? It’s hard to relax with so much responsibility.

My wife, C–, and I were planning a sort of late honeymoon; we’d gotten married back in 2013, but never had the chance to really get away. We decided that in 2020 for our anniversary in early March to take a cruise, leaving the kids with grandma. The year had been going well so far, and we figured “Eh, what could happen?”

We booked the cruise in January with Royal Caribbean. Neither of us had been on one before, so we were quite excited. I noticed however, a few concerning news reports regarding some weird flu. Nothing to worry about. Then more reports. It was starting to sound serious.

I called Royal Caribbean, “We’re still going, right? Some countries are starting to close their borders.” They were so confident, “Yes, sir. All ships are still operational. No disease or Mongols aboard.”

“Ok, thank you–wait what?”

“Have a nice day, sir.” Click, dial toooooooonnne. Obviously I had misheard something, but it really sounded like Mongols. 

The day of the cruise came and since neither of us knew what to expect, being our first one, we were unprepared for the size of the boat. The word boat almost sounds inappropriate. If you have never been near an object of this size, it’s hard to convey in words the absurdity of its existence. Surely that’s an optical illusion? That monstrosity doesn’t actually float? 

Once aboard, they made all the passengers “muster”. Gathering us all in a big group and shout vague instructions to people half drunk and not paying attention. I would only catch every third word, but I guess the gist of it means it would be up to us to defend the boat from pirates, or Mongols, probably.

We figured we wouldn’t be spending too much time in the room, so we got the cheapest one we could find. This was a mistake. Yes, the four walls it had technically made it a room, it was the size of a small bathroom. I’m not claustrophobic, but I was looking into the possibility at this point. Tiny room aside, the trip was mostly fun, as cruises are apt to be. There were a few highlights. 

There is a casino on board that you can lose money in once the ship gets to international waters. Neither of us are big gamblers, but I assumed they make the slot machines complicated on purpose so you can accidentally gamble away your kidneys. The card tables looked quite intimidating (Is that James Bond?), so we avoided them also. Hey, there’s one of those coin pusher machines. The kind that you drop a quarter in and try to get it to land in such a way that the little shelf pushes the pile of quarters over the edge. 

I’m not exaggerating when I say we spent two hours at this machine. The mango daiquiris helped our determination, but we almost immediately started winning. Nothing crazy, but a handful of quarters each time. My amazing wife and I were having such a blast that other people were taking notice and a few had gathered to watch (and drink). There were a few other coin pusher machines, but everyone else was losing. There’s no way to cheat that I know of, so it was a little bit of skill and a lot of daiquiri magic. Everytime more quarters would fall into the tray everyone would cheer and share our excitement. I think we only made about $20 in profit, but it was awesome. 

We weren’t interested in any of the excursions, but the ship did stop off at Nassau. Sounds fun! (Spoilers: I almost died) The map they give you of the area is small and cartoony, like a theme park. Which meant the distances represented were not accurate. Right as you leave the boat there are a bunch of vendor stalls where you can buy tourist stuff, beads, and those scalp rending braids that people get sometimes that I’m sure are a punishment for some unknown infraction. Piracy, maybe. 

“Oh look,” my wife says, “The Royal Atlantis Resort is just over that bridge. We should go check it out.”

“Sounds great!” I say, thinking How far can it be? 

Turns out it was 5 miles. The “bridge” she had mentioned was just a fucking highway over the ocean. To get to said bridge, we had to walk through an area of Nassau in flip flops that had not yet recovered from the last hurricane that hit it. Most of the buildings and houses were abandoned. 

After about halfway, I stopped to get my bearings. I quickly realized that we were alone. And I mean alone. Not one person or a car to be seen. No street signs and I couldn’t even hear the ocean. 

It’s situations like this where people disappear. This is the beginning of a horror movie. Or at least a 6 episode mini series featuring Ryan Gosling as me (naturally). 

We were afraid to get lost going back, and the treacherous map said there was a ferry at the resort to take us back to the ship. So the plan was to make it to the resort. 

The bridge we were on was literally just a highway, with barely even a sidewalk. I was afraid that one of the larger trucks would knock me off into the ocean as it was going by. All I wanted was something cold to drink and somewhere to sit in the air-conditioning. Right outside the resort is a weird little town area where you can shop and eat, of course there was somehow nothing cold to drink so I had to get a hot coffee. Because that’s exactly what you want when you’re sweating out your skeleton.

The resort is just as amazing as it sounds, but I didn’t give a shit. We couldn’t go past the lobby because we weren’t customers of the hotel. I still made C— sit in the cool air for thirty minutes before we decided to look for this “ferry”.

The cruise ship was visible from the resort docks, and probably from space. There was only one ferry left and oh man it was packed. I use the word ferry in the loosest sense of the word because it looked like it was made in some terrible factory in a country who’s flag features a tourist being shot. 

“I can’t get on that thing”, the color drains from my face. 

“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?” My wife says, oblivious to our peril. 

We are the last ones on the ferry. You step down these three steep, rickety steps and find a seat. We were in the back corner of this deathtrap. The boat starts going and the water is choppy. I know this because it’s hitting me in the face. My wife is all smiles and selfies and fun comments with other people. I’m white knuckle clutching my backpack waiting to die. 

This is barely a boat. I need you to understand that. Imagine sitting in your average dining room chair. Now reach down and touch the floor. Now imagine the floor is the dark and merciless sea, full of fish turds and monsters. That’s how close we were to becoming neighbors with SpongeBob. 

This was the longest ten minutes of my life. The only benefit to being the last one on the boat is that I get to be the first one off this miserable piece of shit. The ferry pulled up to the dock and the “captain” said “Ok, let’s go.”

The dock is just a slab of concrete 10 feet above the water to line up with the boat. The boat is barely secured and I’m already at the top step, ready. As I put one foot on the concrete and my other foot was still on the top step, I notice that the boat is quickly inching away, splitting my legs apart like the damn bridge that almost killed me. Right as I start to lose my balance the captain grabs me “Whoa, we almost lost you,” he laughs. Other people also laughed. I did not. 

At this point I just wanted to get back to the ship, change my underwear, and find a daiquiri big enough to swim in. 

As far as the Covid thing, no one really knew yet what it was. There were some of the cruise employees walking around with guitars or bongos, singing songs about washing your hands and sanitizing everything. It was just as uncomfortable as it sounds. Our ship was one of the last to make it home before all the lockdowns. I’m waiting for my sense of adventure to grow back before I book the next cruise.