How I Accidentally Became a Cruiser

“You have got to be kidding. Have you even met me?”

Call me unappreciative, but this was my response when my partner unveiled his meticulously researched and thoughtfully laid out plan for the next family holiday.

The suggestion that caused this visceral response?

A nine-day boat cruise … with 3 000 other people.

Now, I don’t hate people, per se.

I don’t cross the street to avoid them. I occasionally chat to strangers in a queue.

But being sealed inside a floating city with thousands of them - plus their children, opinions and flamingo shirts - has not exactly been something I’ve been gagging to tick off my bucket list.

Still, in the noble and frequently weaponised spirit of doing it for the kids, I packed my suitcases. Plural. Yes, there were several. Yes, I regret nothing (I will explain this shortly.)

And before I knew it, I was boarding the Carnival Encounter, clutching my carry-on and my low expectations.

Cruises, I had decided, were not for people like me. They were for people who own lanyards (which, by the way, you will need to purchase if you ever go on one).

They were for people that say ‘calories don’t count at sea’ or ‘I’m living my best life’ or use the #blessed hashtag when they’ve purchased a new car.

But alas, with my partner and two young teenagers in tow, we were now a part of this special cohort making our way up to the top sunny deck - Deck 15, if you’re fancy - for the introductory welcome dance party.

And this is where things took an unexpected turn.

Deck 15 - otherwise known as the “party pool”

As Gloria Estefan’s Turn the Beat Around blasted through the surround sound system and the Carnival dance crew were giving it absolutely everything - hips, smiles, jazz hands, the works - I felt it.

A shift. A realignment of the universe.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that this shift reliably occurs whenever Turn the Beat Around comes on, regardless of location, circumstance, or emotional preparedness.

Within a nanosecond, I was on that dance floor with people I had never met before, busting out moves like I was auditioning for So You Think You Can Cruise.

There were no introductions. No names. Just mutual respect and a collective agreement that we were all absolutely nailing this choreography we did not know.

OMG. I was having fun.

Actual, genuine, “how did this happen?” fun.

This is how cruises get you.

They don’t start with the safety drills or welcome aboard pack.

They start with Gloria. They start with an innocent mango daiquiri at 11am on day one. They start with you thinking, I’ll just watch, and then suddenly you’re dancing like it’s old school Darwin Circles nightclub days.*

And don’t even get me started on the obligatory cruise ship 80s theme party.

I went from “we don’t need to be part of this fancy dress nonsense” on land - to a Tiffany-singing, Cindy Lauper-dressing crazy lady at sea.

And yes, there were 3,000 people.

But here’s the thing no one tells you: after day two, they stop being people and start being characters.

There’s Angry, Red-faced Buffet Dad. There’s Always At Trivia Woman. There’s The Couple Who Dresses Matching But Swears It Wasn’t Planned. There’s many .. MANY .. inpatient, sighing Karens.

My favourite was the couple I awkwardly had to walk past having a massive barney because she was questioning his account summary, demanding to know who he’d bought a cocktail for at 2am at the cruise bar while she was back in the cabin with the kids.

By day four, you’re nodding at strangers like old colleagues. By day six, you’re mildly concerned if you haven’t seen them.

At this point I’d like to add I met my spirit animal on this ship. I was seated at a build a bear conference (don’t ask), when this glamorous looking woman with two kids in tow, a scowl on her face and holding a massive margarita walked in & goes to her 8 year old ‘hurry up and build this bloody bear before I change my mind and stick you in the kids club’.

Yes. You meet all kinds on cruises. And sometimes you meet someone you relate to so hard you just want to be their BFF for life.

But anyway, I digress.

As for the suitcases? Entirely justified.

Cruises are a paradoxical environment where you need activewear, swimwear, casual wear, dressy wear, theme night wear (this is not optional), and at least one outfit that says, “I don’t know who I am anymore, but I’m okay with it.”

You cannot predict who you will be on a cruise. You must pack for all versions of yourself.

By the end of nine days, I had danced, eaten, laughed, relaxed, overpacked, and against all odds thoroughly enjoyed myself. I had boarded the ship a sceptic and disembarked as someone googling “14-day cruises from Darwin” while pretending not to.

So no, I wouldn’t have chosen it. And yes, I will complain about it forever.

But, it turns out, sometimes the best holidays are the ones you swear you’ll hate. Lanyards and all.

*Circles Nightclub was THE place to be in Darwin’s late 90s nightclub scene. But that’s a column for another time.

How I Accidentally Became a Cruiser

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