Illustration by Martin Matje
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A Tale of Two Cruises
By William R. Newcott, January-February 2004
There’s an ocean of difference between ships that love families and those that cater to couples. Consider these two ends of the seagoing spectrum
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1 Crystal Serenity
Itinerary: Southampton, England, to Barcelona, Spain
Average age of passenger: 60
Average number of children aboard: 48
"The Titanic sailed from here," I tell my wife, Cindy.
True, there are probably better topics to bring up at the start of a
just-the-two-of-us getaway, especially following a 15-hour overnight
plane-and-bus trip from the U.S. But it is true, and here we are, staggering
off the bus alongside the white-hulled Crystal Serenity.
The check-in stations here in Southampton's Queen Elizabeth II terminal
are humming with a quiet efficiency, like a no-frills bank branch. At the point
of passing through the security scanners, someone thrusts filled champagne
flutes into our hands and takes our picture, a lasting testament to just how
jovial two painfully exhausted people can make themselves look.
2 Disney Magic
Itinerary: Port Canaveral, Florida, roundtrip via the western
Caribbean
Average age of passenger: south of 60
Average number of children aboard: 825
"Apollo 11 was launched right there," the bus driver
announces. Hunched low on the distant horizon sits a squat frame of girders,
Launch Pad 39A at the Kennedy Space Center. The sight thrills me, but the oohs
and aahs floating down the aisle are directed straight ahead, toward the
sloping, black-hulled cruise ship Disney Magic.
Fourteen members of my extended family are coming along with me on this
trip, and we're all hoping to meet up somewhere in the huge,
art-deco-inspired Disney cruise terminal. There, assorted Disney characters
scamper among the passengers, who are lined up at the dozen or so check-in
stations. They stand, like flower-shirted fly fishermen, hip-deep in a roiling
stream of very, very excited children.
Cabin Fever
1 Well, they call it a cabin—hotel room is more like it,
because the Crystal Serenity cabins remind me of a very nice
Ritz-Carlton. At the near end is the door to a full marble bath. Ahead, a glass
door leads to a balcony. (They call them verandas here, and that reminds me of
the old joke—She: Will you kiss me on the veranda? He: Your mouth would
be fine.) In between are a couch, chairs, coffee table, a shelf with a
cool-looking flat-screen television—and a very cushy, very inviting
queen-size bed.
A muffled knock, and in steps Engin, the white-gloved butler. He is from
Croatia, and he directs our attention to the room's features. By the time
he gets around to pointing out the light switches, Cindy and I cast each other
nervous glances that say, Engin doesn't want to leave! Finally, I
offer, "Thanks, Engin. I'll take it from here." He closes his
eyes, tilts his head a bit, and nods. Then Engin, ever appropriate and with
excellent posture, backs out the door.
2 We all find our own ways to our Disney Magic cabins, conveniently
clustered in the same general area. The group includes my wife; her parents,
Don and Phyllis from Dallas; our son Ben and his wife, Bronwen; and our younger
sons Nick, 20, and Zack, 16. Somewhere out there, still tooling along the
Beeline Highway between Orlando and the pier, is our daughter, Tiffany, along
with her husband, Chris, and their three daughters: Emma, four; Madison, three;
and Olivia, seven months. They have driven all the way down from Maryland. Add
on Chris's parents, Jim and Marilyn, from Annapolis, and we make up a
sizable contingent. Still, we account for merely .06 percent of the 2,600
passengers.
Our cabin is about the size of a small motel room. Nick and Zack get the
fold-down bunks near the sliding doors, which open onto a small balcony...uh,
veranda. The master bed (which can be pushed apart to create two twins) is
nearer the bath—cleverly designed as two separate compartments, one with
a sink and shower, the other with a sink and commode. A thick curtain, pulled
between the two sleeping areas, will define privacy for the next seven days.
But hey, if Cindy and I really wanted to be alone, we would be on the
Crystal Serenity.
Morning Glory
1 As days go by on the Crystal Serenity, we grow accustomed to
Engin's morning knock on the door. "Excuse me, sir," he
apologizes today, "but your waffles are in danger of getting cold."
Breakfast is set on the veranda, the silver coffee pots and shiny utensils
glittering before the impossibly blue ocean.
After breakfast, we head up to the ship's library to return the books we
have been plowing through and to borrow a Scrabble board.
Lunch today is a big deal, the much-anticipated "Cuisine of the
Sun" buffet. Foods from 14 of the countries bordering the Mediterranean
are represented. We move from table to table. "Seafood brioche, Mr.
Newcott?" "Olive bread, Mr. Newcott?" "Can I find you a
table, Mr. Newcott?" How do these people know my name—and those of
1,079 other passengers? I, who would give my own kids nametags if I could get
away with it, am awestruck.
2 My granddaughters suddenly yell, "Chip! Chip!" and I am sure
someone must have broken a tooth. Over my shoulder, across the Disney
Magic's teeming dining room, I catch sight of Chip 'n' Dale,
two enormous chipmunks (and if I need to explain that, this trip is definitely
not for you). They're wearing chef hats. This morning, at the Parrot Cay
restaurant Character Breakfast, the intensity of in-your-face cartoon
encounters is ratcheted way, way up, even for a Disney cruise. Barely have I
had my second cup of coffee before a character conga line chugs by. I ignore
Minnie's come-hither look and stay seated. Now come the characters
individually, gently patting Emma, Madison, and Olivia on their delighted
heads, signing their autograph books and, just a tad awkwardly, shaking the
hands of the adults, as if wrapping up an important cartoon business meeting.
The girls are dazed with delight, their wide eyes glued on the fuzzy Disney
mascots, while our eyes are fastened on them.
Shore Is Fun
Waterford, Ireland
1 The winds are whipping in off the Celtic Sea, creating a violent chop
that threatens to foil the tenders waiting to take us ashore. But the
Crystal Serenity's intrepid passengers are not about to let a bit of
stormy weather stand in their way.
On most ships, the cruise directors take great pains to preview the amazing
deals and discounts you'll enjoy at your next port of call. But in
Waterford, Ireland, where they make Waterford crystal, nothing is cheap. Still,
our group crowds the Waterford show room, snapping up crystal vases, crystal
bowls, crystal chandeliers, and crystal golf balls like they were so many
baskets at a Bahamian bazaar. Browsing, even I find a delicately carved
salt-and-pepper shaker set that I kind of like, but a cursory euro-to-dollar
calculation convinces me that $200 is a bit on the high side. (Our current salt
shaker is cardboard and has on its side a picture of a little girl carrying an
umbrella.) Best of all is a guy whose sole job is to inspect crystal pieces as
they roll off the line—and smash the imperfect ones in a big box. The
male passengers with me—among them, retired CEOs, investment bankers,
visionary entrepreneurs—glance at each other and nod knowingly. This
guy, all agree, has the best job in the world.
Cozumel, Mexico
2 From the moment Disney Magic's gangway is lowered on
Cozumel's pier, passengers gush ashore. Looking down from the deck, I could
swear many of them are waving their American dollars above their heads and
chanting the Yankee tourist's mantra: "I'll give you half
that!" I also notice there are remarkably few kids among the
herd—and that's understandable, given the range of alternatives
they've got. Some 25 excursions are offered, ranging from numerous
snorkeling "adventures" to Mayan ruin tours to a "Fury Catamaran
Teen Cruise." My sons Nick and Zack are still happy just to chill out
onboard, making up new rules for shuffleboard and soaking in the hot tub. Their
older brother, Ben, and his wife, Bronwen, have found a beach up the coast, and
new parents Chris and Tiffany are busy playing "Let's All Pretend
We're Taking a Nap" with the girls. Jim and Marilyn have taken a taxi
to some Mayan ruins, in the process greatly enriching the blood supply for the
island's thriving mosquito population.
Looking down from the deck, I could swear passengers are
waving their American dollars above their heads and chanting the Yankee
tourist's mantra: "I'll give you half that!"
With everyone else occupied, Cindy, her parents, and I take a chance on the
"Free Cozumel Shopping Tour." A free local taxi shuttles us about a
mile—and drops us off at a glitzy new indoor mall. There, hosts pour
champagne (there's free liquor everywhere in Cozumel's shops, all the
better to help you make important buying decisions), hawking bargain jewelry,
leather goods, carvings, and silver. One guy is selling prescription
drugs—without such pesky minutiae as an actual doctor's prescription.
"What do you sell the most of?" I ask him. He points to a small
pyramid of boxes labeled "Viagra." The cost: $28 a pill. That is more
than three times the cost in the United States. (Look, I just happen to know
that, okay?) "Do you sell a lot of these?" I ask. His broad smile is
all the answer I need, but he adds, "Lots of cruise ships."
We Kid You Not
1 No one would mistake Crystal Serenity for Studio 54. A
roving barbershop quartet sings doo-wop in the foyer. There is a movie every
afternoon, and lots of fairly current ones: About Schmidt, Moonlight
Mile, and Far From Heaven. In the Palm Court Lounge is an art
auction—the Rembrandt etching is a steal for $8,000, and there is a
really nice Miró for just a bit more. Hmm. Wait. What am I thinking?
Zack needs braces.
I look around and wonder what any of our kids would do to amuse themselves
on this trip. There are, in fact, perhaps a few dozen kids on the ship, most of
them in their midteens. But after several days, they have played every video
game in the ship's tiny kids lounge and have tired of whacking tennis balls
at each other on the top-deck court. Now they merely roam the decks in small
bands, like the Sharks in West Side Story. Watching them bored to the
brink of lawlessness, I am grateful there's a combination lock on the door
to the ship's bridge.
2 Have I mentioned the kids lately? I know I brought several. I can
even picture their faces. But aside from our big all-together-now
dinners—the best part of every day—they are hard to find. Emma and
Madison are in the Disney Magic's Oceaneer Club, a vast indoor kids
care center designed like a pirate ship, with twinkling electrical stars above.
There are story times, costume dress-up times, rest times, and meal times. Kids
are signed in and out by their parents, who keep in touch with a cool pocket
pager system. As for baby Olivia, she has put in some time at Flounder's
Reef Nursery (a bargain at $6 an hour). But as time goes on, I see the girls
spending more time with their parents, and that is perhaps the way it should
be.
As for my own son Zack—ah, yes, I remember Zack. There is a teens-only
lounge, where today they created animation cels. And he has become a karaoke
darling, I hear. Last night, at midnight, the ship premiered the then brand-new
Disney movie Pirates of the Caribbean, and Zack stayed up for it. Now I
ask you, when was the last time your teenager tiptoed in at 2:30 a.m. and you
smiled to yourself, rolled over, and went back to sleep?
Hit the Decks
1 Every once in a while, the Crystal Serenity's activity
schedule seems to invite couples to spend quality time apart. Early this
afternoon, many of the women are heading off to a lecture on "Introduction
to Furniture Styles: English and American" while their husbands file into
the theater for a former U.S. ambassador's talk on "Franchising
Terror: Al Qaeda and the Threat to America." For me, this smacks too much
of Sunday morning newsmaker interview shows—especially when there is a
glorious sun above and a brilliant sea all around. Cindy and I take the
elevator to the pool deck and lie in the sun, watching it bob smoothly with
each surge of our ship. Above the gentle rumble of the distant engines, we hear
the Mediterranean gently splash against the hull below.
2 There are, count 'em, three pools on the Disney
Magic's top deck. Our little girls are splashing in the kids-only one,
shaped like Mickey. One of the ears is a toddler splash area—the only one
that permits kids in swim diapers. Water fills in from the rim and swirls down
to a central drain. Yup. My little Olivia is sitting happily in a great big
toilet. The kids-and-grownups pool has a yellow two-story slide, held aloft by
a huge gloved "Mickey" hand. And finally, to the front, is the
"Quiet Cove" adult pool, truly more tranquil—except when the
Magic leaves a port: As we lie there at poolside, bidding Grand Cayman a
fond adieu, we are virtually lifted from our deck chairs by the ship's
ear-shattering horns, which are situated directly above us. They blast out,
like finely tuned nuclear explosions, the first seven notes of "When You
Wish Upon a Star."
Wave Goodbye
1 Tonight's Crystal Serenity dinner is formal, and the
dining room resembles an inaugural ball. The various retirees and widowed folks
around our table have, among them, cruised more than 200 times. Tactful inquiry
has revealed that the fares we've paid for similar cabins range wildly from
more than $10,000 per person down to less than $3,000 for last-minute
deals—surprisingly, mostly through travel agents. We're all getting
the same food, though, and all agree this is the best cruise cuisine we've
ever had. Tonight's highlights: iced Russian Osetre caviar, cream of
asparagus Argenteuil, and roasted stuffed wild pheasant breast. For dessert,
the staff parades among the tables holding aloft Baked Alaska
flambé—large flaming loaves of ice cream and sponge cake. Over the
years, I have become convinced that there exists some maritime law that, along
with lifeboat drills, requires cruise ships to serve Baked Alaska at least once
on each trip.
After dinner, we stroll onto the deck. Cindy is beautiful in a dress she
wore at our son's wedding, and I allow myself to feel dashing in a black
suit impersonating a tux. We hold hands, watch the Mediterranean slide by, and
say nothing.
2 For most passengers, formal dinner night aboard Disney Magic means
jacket and tie and nice dresses—but we've gone all-out, with tuxes
and gowns (the little girls are in their frilly best). Off the atrium lobby,
all of us crowd around Mickey and Minnie, also in tux and long black gown, for
a family portrait. As we disperse, we are served champagne and strawberries.
All very classy, and fittingly so; Disney cruises don't come cheap. There
are precious few cabins at the much-advertised $800-per-person level (most
range from $1,000 to $2,400), and you'll seldom find last-minute deals.
Because of that, several people I talked to found it simplest to book larger
groups at www.disneycruise.com—although a few
were very happy with what they found on the big travel websites like Travelocity.com and Expedia.com.
The Captain's Gala dinner chef's suggestions are grilled shrimp,
wild forest mushroom soup, roasted turkey, and warm chocolate cake. The food is
as good as the best Red Lobster or Olive Garden meals (and I say that as a huge
Red Lobster and Olive Garden fan). As always, there is a good kids menu with
Mickey Mouse ice cream bars for dessert.
Tonight is packing night, and virtually all the kid activities have ended.
At about 9:30 p.m., I gaze down from the top level of the four-story atrium
lobby and see a vision of what would have become of us all if Disney had not
intervened on the first night to instill order. On each level, boys chase girls
and girls chase boys. Kids on level four scream to kids on level two. On the
lobby floor below, several kids simply spin, arms outstretched, bouncing off
walls, furniture, and people as they go.
Our last morning, I'm lucky enough to be sitting near the head of our
breakfast table. I cast my gaze from face to face, young and old, glimpsing a
shared nose here, a common dimple there. A familiar laugh echoes round the
setting, like a song instinctively learned. It is my laugh. And theirs.
Now, set sail with our web-exclusive guide
to theme cruises.
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