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Ruby Princess cruise ship damaged while docking in SF; passengers still waiting to depart

SAN FRANCISCO (KGO) -- The Ruby Princess cruise ship hit Pier 27 in San Francisco while docking Thursday morning, the U.S. Coast Guard says.

The Coast Guard says there is damage to both the ship's hull and the dock.

In a statement, Princess Cruise described the collision as "unexpected contact" as they were docking just after 6 a.m.

VIDEO: Record-setting year for cruising out of San Francisco predicted

At 9:40 p.m., Ruby Princess told ABC7 News in a statement the departure time frame has not yet been determined, as the damage is still being assessed:

Princess Cruises is in continued discussions with the U.S. Coast Guard regarding clearance for Ruby Princess to depart San Francisco, but a departure timeframe has not yet been confirmed. The safety of our guests and crew remain our top priority, and Ruby Princess will depart once the ship is deemed by U.S. Coast as fit to sail. The cruise line's technical experts and shoreside team will remain working on this situation, and the ship will set sail from San Francisco should clearance to depart be received at any time tonight. Additional updates regarding the ship's status and revised itinerary will be provided in the morning. Princess will also be providing a goodwill gesture of compensation once the full effect of the necessary changes is known.

While that departure time is still being determined, Princess Cruises says passengers boarded at 11:30 a.m.

Thursday morning, the ship had 3,328 guests on board with 1,159 crew members and was completing a 10-day cruise to Alaska that left San Francisco on June 26.

"I noticed we were spinning pretty quick, to be that close to the dock, and I was mid-ship, portside, looked out the window and we smacked into the dock," Sacramento resident and passenger Paul Zasso told ABC7 News.

Passengers still on board and those on the ground were trying to get a glimpse of the damage.

"It was surreal and you could definitely feel it," Sacramento resident and passenger Jeremy Jordan told ABC7 News. "It wasn't like things falling off the shelves or anything like that, kind of like when you get the tugboats coming up against us. So yeah... it was different."

While on scene, ABC7 News watched as San Francisco police surveyed the ship.

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In a statement, Princess Cruises reported no injuries, adding, "At no time were any guests or crew in danger."

"It was so funny, because one of the dock guys, you can hear him yell out like 'whoa' and then you can kind of hear it just slowly going in... and when he came back out, I wasn't sure what to see," Jordan added.

The shouting from the dock worker is what woke up Jordan's wife. The couple, avid cruisegoers, said Thursday morning's experience is one he won't soon forget.

"It's ironic, because I think it was yesterday the captain was talking about how he goes into docks and how unpredictable the currents are," Jordan shared. "So yeah, it's a challenge for them to be able to do that."

Passengers still waiting to depart San Francisco

"I don't swim that good. I just think they patch it up," said Jim Simpson.

Simpson is onboard the ship with his family waiting to depart for their trip to Alaska.

After a little creative thinking, we got each other's attention while he was standing on the balcony of his room.

However, Simpson says he's not worried, and that the captain has kept everyone updated.

"It's a 10-day cruise, there's plenty of time, we can make up time moving and things like that. So I don't think it's going to be an issue truthfully," Simpson said.

VIDEO: Cruise ship hits iceberg in Alaska, returns to Seattle for repairs

Now the question is: when will the ship actually leave?

Experts say it really depends on the extent of the damage - which Princess has not elaborated on.

"It depends on where the damage is. Is it at the waterline? Is it above? Is it below the waterline? Is there an actual penetration in the hull?" said Steve Browne.

Browne is a dean at Cal State Maritime. He says if the ship is just dented, it's probably safe to set sail.

But if damage is more extensive, that could change things.

"If there's a hole in the hull, then no it would not be safe for them to go to sea until it's repaired," Browne said.

Despite the delay running into the night time hours, Simpson says the mood on the ship remains pretty happy.

He even tells us, his family doesn't mind a little extra time here in the Bay Area.

"We haven't been to San Francisco in a number of years. First time for the granddaughters so we're having fun just looking at the skyline." Simpson said.

Investigation into the bar pilot

We're learning more about the Ruby Princess pilot. In some ways, this is an elite group. There aren't many bar pilots, 52 at the moment with four trainees in the pipeline according to the Board of Pilot Commissioners Executive Director.

The investigation into what went wrong with the Ruby Princess during docking at San Francisco's Pier 27 Thursday morning is in the early fact finding phase.

"It appears the port quarter of the Ruby Princess made contact with Pier 27," said U.S. Coast Guard Lieutenant Commander William Williams.

The Coast Guard which is assisting in the investigation says the pilot is being drug and alcohol tested which is standard in a serious marine incident.

"The Coast Guard has sent two teams, an investigations team and an inspection port state control team to the vessel and will be conducting those inspections and investigations," said Williams.

The San Francisco Bar Pilots are responsible for safely navigating ships they board over the offshore sand bar to docks throughout the Bay Area.

A Spokesperson working with the San Francisco Bar Pilots tells ABC7 News, "We can confirm a pilot was involved in a hard landing at Pier 27 this morning. We are cooperating with all necessary agencies in looking into this matter and cannot comment further."

The Board of Pilot Commissioners tells ABC7 News the pilot is on the Pilot Evaluation Committee which is responsible for trainees and that anyone on that committee would have to be a pilot more than 10 years.

The investigation is now in the hands of the U.S. Coast Guard and other federal agencies who were notified about the early morning incident.

If you're on the ABC7 News app, click here to watch live

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Crashes and Disasters | ‘We were spinning pretty quick’: Ruby…

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Crashes and disasters | evacuation order remains for parts of tracy as corral fire spreads to 12,500 acres, stretch of i-580 is closed, crime and public safety, crashes and disasters, crashes and disasters | ‘we were spinning pretty quick’: ruby princess cruise ship crashes into san francisco pier.

A Princess Cruises ship crashed into a pier in San Francisco as it was preparing to dock after a 10-day Alaskan cruise, officials said.

The 113,561-ton Ruby Princess “made unexpected contact with the dock at Pier 27” at the port of San Francisco Thursday morning, Princess Cruises said in a statement obtained by CNN.

“There were no injuries and at no time were any guests or crew in danger,” the company said. “The ship is safely alongside and disembarkation is complete.”

Passenger Paul Zasso said he knew something seemed off as the ship approached the pier.

“I noticed we were spinning pretty quick, to be that close to the dock,” Zasso told CNN affiliate KGO . “I was mid-ship, portside, looked out the window, and we smacked into the dock.”

The US Coast Guard is now investigating the crash, Petty Officer Hunter Schnabel told CNN.

The ship, which can accommodate 3,080 guests and 1,200 crew , suffered damage to its left rear side. The dock was also damaged, Princess Cruises said.

While investigators assessed damage to both the ship and the pier, Princess Cruises said it was still planning to board passengers for another 10-day, roundtrip journey to Alaska. But it was not immediately clear when the Ruby Princess would be able to start its next voyage.

“I don’t swim that good. I just think they patch it up,” Simpson told KGO .

But he said he’s not worried.

“It’s a 10-day cruise, there’s plenty of time,” he told the affiliate. “We can make up time moving and things like that. So I don’t think it’s going to be an issue.”

The-CNN-Wire ™ & © 2023 Cable News Network, Inc., a Warner Bros. Discovery Company. All rights reserved.

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Princess Cruises ship that crashed into San Francisco pier cleared for departure

New passengers had until 11 a.m. PT to decide whether to continue to Alaska.

The Ruby Princess cruise ship that was damaged after it crashed into a pier in San Francisco is expected to set sail on Sunday afternoon after it was cleared for departure.

The U.S. Coast Guard announced early Sunday morning that repairs on the ship, which startled sleeping San Francisco residents Thursday morning when it collided with Pier 27, are complete.

MORE: Cruise ship still docked in San Francisco after hitting pier

The Coast Guard lifted the Captain of the Port order at 1 a.m. PT Sunday.

The ship was scheduled to depart at 2:30 p.m. PT., Princess Cruises said in a statement.

New passengers who boarded the ship after the accident had until 11 a.m. PT on Sunday to decide whether to continue to the next port or disembark and end their trip. A total of 2677 guests and 1161 crew were expected to be on board when the ship departs -- down from the more than 3,000 guests who initially boarded, according to Princess Cruises.

MORE: Out-of-control cruise ship crashes into tourist boat on busy Venice canal

Originally a 10-day cruise, the trip has been whittled down to seven days and will return on July 16 as originally planned after stops in Ketchikan, Alaska, on July 12 and Prince Rupert, British Columbia, on July 13, according to Princess Cruises.

Guests who boarded Thursday were given the option to cancel their trip and receive a 100% refund on their cruise fare, post-cruise hotel packages and transfers booked through Princess, prepaid shore excursions and other prepaid items and taxes, fees and port expenses, according to the cruise line.

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They were also offered a 50% voucher for a future cruise. Guests who did decide to stay aboard and embark on the shorter journey to Alaska will receive a partial refund of 75%.

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The ship was returning from a 10-day cruise to Alaska when it slammed into San Francisco's Pier 27, a large dock on the waterfront of The Embarcadero that hosts cruise ships leaving and arriving in San Francisco Bay.

There were 3,328 guests and 1,159 crew members on board when it crashed, none of whom were injured and all safely disembarked, according to Princess Cruises.

While the ship was visibly damaged, the dock took the brunt of the crash, witnesses said.

The Coast Guard is investigating the incident, according to police.

ABC News' Nicholas Kerr and Ivan Pereira contributed to this report.

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Enormous MSC Cruise Ship Crashes Into Crowded Venice Port, Injuring at Least Five

Videos of the incident offer a firsthand look at the 13-deck vessel barreling into the tourist-filled dock.

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A commercial cruise ship suffered a catastrophic engine failure off the coast of Venice, Italy on Sunday, leaving it uncontrollable as it headed toward a nearby dock. With no effective way of steering the vessel, it resultantly crashed into the harbor—a hotspot for tourists—injuring five people, according to the Associated Press.

The news has made headlines worldwide with videos of the incident also being posted online, showing the situation from a firsthand perspective:

Operated by MSC, the Opera cruise ship was built to hold more than 2,675 passengers and, in this instance, it was carrying travelers back to Venice after visiting Kotor, Montenegro as well as the Greek cities of Mykonos, Santorini, and Corfu. Two nearby tugboats worked to guide the ship away from the dock after the captain immediately reported the engine failure but failed.

As can be heard in the videos, those aboard the ship and on shore were left wondering aloud what might come of the shipwreck. 

While there are obvious and immediate effects that come with a crash of this magnitude, Italian activists are using the episode to make a political point. Recently, there's been a swing of protest regarding Venice's acceptance of cruise ships that, due to their size , block narrow waterways and obstruct tourist views. This was not lost on Twitter after Sunday's happenings as Italy's environment minister Sergio Costa posted:

"What happened in the port of Venice is confirmation of what we have been saying for some time. Cruise ships must not sail down the Giudecca. We have been working on moving them for months now ... and are nearing a solution."

A politician with the Italian Left party, Nicola Fratoianni, even went as far as to call cruise ships "steel monsters" which "risk carnage" in the seaside town.

An MSC spokesperson explained to NPR   that the cruise ship is now being moored at the Marittima terminal and has begun passenger operations.

Princess Cruises ship hits San Francisco pier while docking

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Officials are assessing damage after a cruise ship crashed into Pier 27 in San Francisco while docking Thursday morning.

The ship Ruby Princess “made unexpected contact” with the pier just after 6 a.m., a spokesperson for Princess Cruises said. No injuries were reported, and the cruise line said passengers and crew were not in danger during the incident.

News images showed damage to the side of the ship.

The Ruby Princess had just returned from a 10-day voyage to Alaska with 3,328 guests and 1,159 crew members. The ship departed San Francisco on June 26.

Princess Cruises said the departure time for the next trip to Alaska was uncertain, but passengers began boarding the ship at 11:30 a.m..

Officials said they would provide more details later.

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Vanessa Arredondo was a 2022-23 reporting fellow at the Los Angeles Times. She is a Chicana born and raised in the San Fernando Valley. Arredondo is a proud product of community college and has interned in various digital newsrooms across California, including CalMatters and NBCLA. Before joining The Times, she was a Hearst fellow at the San Francisco Chronicle.

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Cruise ship rams into tourist boat, dock in Venice leaving several injured

Cruise ship hits boat in Venice, injuries reported

The cruise ship owner said that there was a mechanical problem when trying to dock.

Several people were injured in Italy after a towering, out-of-control cruise ship crashed into a tourist river boat and dock Sunday morning in Venice as tourists ran in panic as a ship's horn blared.

The collision happened around 8:30 a.m. on the Giudecca Canal, a major thoroughfare that leads to the city's famous Saint Mark's Square.

The northeastern Italian city is a tremendously popular site for both tourists and cruise ships, especially during the summer tourist season.

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Videos of the crash posted to Twitter show the cruise ship blaring its horn as it rammed into the much smaller river boat as dozens of people ran away in panic.

Some people can also be seen jumping and falling from the river boat as it is hit by the cruise ship that was apparently unable to halt its momentum.

Medical authorities said that four female tourists — an American, a New Zealander and two Australians between the ages of 67 and 72 — were injured falling or trying to run away when the cruise ship rammed into the tourist boat, the River Countess.

Elisabetta Pasqualin told the Associated Press she was watering plants on her terrace when she heard warning sirens and stepped out to see the ship "advancing slowly but inevitably towards the dock."

"There was this huge ship in a diagonal position in the Giudecca Canal, with a tugboat near which seemed like it couldn't do anything," she said.

The MSC Opera cruise liner stand by a tourist boat following a collision in Venice, Italy, Sunday, June 2, 2019. (Vigili del Fuoco via AP)

Pasqualin said the bow of the ship crashed hard into the bank with its massive weight crushing a big piece of it.

"Sirens were wailing loudly; it was a very dramatic scene," she said.

The cruise ship's owner, MSC Cruises, said the ship, the MSC Opera, was about to dock at a passenger terminal in Venice when it had a mechanical problem. Two towboats guiding the cruise ship into Venice tried to stop the massive cruise ship, but they were unable to prevent it from ramming into the river boat.

"The two towboats tried to stop the giant and then a tow cable broke, cut by the collision with the river boat," Davide Calderan, president of a towboat association in Venice, told the Italian news agency ANSA . Calderan added the cruise ship's engine was locked when the captain called for help.

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The cruise ship was built in 2004 and has a capacity of 2,150 passengers and weighs 65,591 tons, according to Sky News .

In this photo released by the Italian Firefighters, the MSC Opera cruise liner, a towering cruise ship, strikes a tourist river boat, left, Sunday, June 2, 2019, in Venice, Italy, injuring at least five people. (Vigili del Fuoco via AP)

According to its sailing schedule, the cruise ship left Venice on May 26 and traveled to Kotor, Montenegro, and Mykonos, Santorini and Corfu in Greece before returning Sunday to Venice.

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Following the accident, calls for banning cruise ships in Venice, long a source of contention in the over-extended tourist city, were renewed. Danilo Toninelli, Italy's transport minister, said that "today's accident in the port of Venice proves that cruise ships shouldn't be allowed to pass down the Giudecca anymore."

Toninelli added, "After many years of inertia, we are finally close to a solution to protect both the lagoon and tourism."

The incident also came days after a cruise liner collided with a pleasure boat on the Danube in Budapest, killing 7 people and leaving 21 missing and presumed dead, according to Reuters .

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

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On Thursday (May 26) Royal Caribbean ’s Harmony of the Seas  crashed into a dock  in Falmouth, Jamaica. The captain of the Harmony of the Seas was piloting the ship into the port but got too close to a docks dolphin extension. This is used to moor ships once they dock.

Here is a video capturing the collision  which was posted on Twitter. As the massive 1,200-foot ship approaches the concrete mooring pylon, passengers begin to realize a collision is imminent.

Cruise Ship Crash

A passenger can be heard yelling, “We’re gonna hit. We’re gonna hit,” just before the ship rams into the pylon, smashing the metal bridges connecting it to the dock.

Video of Royal Caribbean’s Harmony of the Seas crashing into the dock in Falmouth, Jamaica this morning. pic.twitter.com/cbFULNPe2w — Ben Bearup (@TheAviationBeat) May 27, 2022

Royal Caribbean released a statement on the incident:

“During arrival in Falmouth, Jamaica, Harmony of the Seas made contact with an extension part of the dock. There were no injuries to guests or crew and only minor cosmetic damage to the ship’s stern. The sailing will continue as scheduled,” Royal Caribbean said in a statement.

Past Cruise Ship Accidents

Cruise Addicts who have followed news closely may recall that a Disney Ship in Nassua and a Norwegian Cruise Line in San Juan also had similar accidents in the past.

(Warning: Adult language).

Luckily incidents like this are very rare and often only cause property damages to the piers. Often these are the result of very heavy winds or technical difficulties onboard the ships . Each incident is investigated thoroughly as the pier damages have been in the millions.

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Princess cruise ship hits dock in San Francisco

A Princess Cruises ship hit a dock at Pier 27 in San Francisco Thursday morning.

The line’s Ruby Princess vessel “made unexpected contact” with the dock at 6:05 a.m. local time on arrival at the Port of San Francisco, a Princess spokesperson said in an emailed statement.

“There were no injuries and at no time were any guests or crew in danger,” the spokesperson said. “The ship is safely alongside and disembarkation is complete.” The ship was returning from a round-trip sailing to Alaska that departed on June 26, according to CruiseMapper .

"I noticed we were spinning pretty quick, to be that close to the dock, and I was mid-ship, portside, looked out the window and we smacked into the dock," passenger Paul Zasso told the Bay Area’s ABC7 News .

Cruise insurance: Should you buy it through a cruise line? Maybe not, experts say

The Princess spokesperson said an assessment of the damage to the vessel and pier were underway. While the departure time of its next voyage “is still being determined,” embarkation began at 11:30 a.m. local time.

The incident is not the only one of its kind in recent years. MSC Cruises’ MSC Opera ship hit a dock and tourist river boat in Venice, Italy in 2019 and Norwegian Cruise Line’s Norwegian Epic crashed into a dock in San Juan, Puerto Rico earlier that year.

Nathan Diller is a consumer travel reporter for USA TODAY based in Nashville. You can reach him at [email protected].

People injured after P&O cruise ship involved in 'weather-related incident' in Mallorca

It is reported that P&O ship Britannia, carrying thousands of passengers, crashed into a freight vessel on Sunday morning.

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Monday 28 August 2023 07:42, UK

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People have been injured after a P&O cruise liner was involved in a "weather-related incident" in Mallorca, the company has said.

It is reported that P&O ship Britannia, carrying thousands of travellers, crashed into a freight vessel on Sunday morning during severe storms.

One passenger's footage showed fierce gusts sweeping across the waves from the ship's window.

Storm in Palma Mallorca breaks it’s moorings and pushes P&O Britannia into another ship and onto rocks. Ship not compromised and being pushed back into position by tugs pic.twitter.com/0RbdQIhPRT — Stephen Marsh (@millermanuk) August 27, 2023

P&O Cruises told Sky News the ship was involved in a "weather-related incident" alongside the port in Palma, Mallorca's capital.

The company added that a "small number of people" sustained minor injuries and were being treated by their onboard medical team.

It added that it would make an assessment of Britannia, which would remain in Palma for the night with "onboard entertainment and activities scheduled".

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According to the company's website, Britannia has 13 guest decks and an operating capacity of 3,647 guests and 1,350 crew.

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Why royal caribbean does not have to share details of passenger who died on world’s largest cruise ship.

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The public may never know the full details surrounding the death of a passenger who reportedly jumped from the world’s largest cruise ship earlier this month.

Under maritime law, Royal Caribbean is not obligated to release the findings of its investigation into the death of the passenger on the Icon of the Seas.

The law allows the company, and other cruise lines — to downplay details that might cast them in a negative light, said Florida-based lawyer Keith Brais, whose firm specializes in injuries and incidents at sea.

“They wouldn’t even need to report on how much alcohol might have been involved if it makes them look bad,” he told The Post.

Royal Caribbean has not commented on the specific details of the incident and has only expressed its condolences to the family of the deceased.

The US Coast Guard in Miami said it assisted with the search, but it is not involved in the investigation into the passenger’s death.

Deaths on cruise ships are rare — but unique circumstances of a floating city in international waters — the Icon of the Seas can carry up to 7,000 people — means that they are not handled like deaths on land.

What happens to someone who dies on a cruise ship?

When an unidentified man jumped from Royal Caribbean’s new 1,200-foot-long Icon of the Seas on the first day of a seven-day voyage on Sunday, a rescue boat from the ship found him and brought him back aboard.

Passengers were initially told that the man was in the intensive care unit, but the Coast Guard confirmed to The Post that he died.

The Icon of the Seas proceeded on its voyage around the Gulf of Mexico after the incident.

It’s not clear where the man’s body is now, but it was likely taken to the ship’s morgue until it can be transferred to authorities on land, Brais said.

The ship has stopped in Honduras and Mexico, and is set for one more port of call in the Bahamas before it returns to Miami on Saturday.

Who investigates deaths at sea?

While the US Coast Guard assisted Royal Caribbean in the search and rescue of the man who fell overboard, officials said it was the cruise line’s rescue boat that ultimately found and transported the body, and it would be up to the company to investigate the case.

Brais said Royal Caribbean is not required to release its findings to the public, adding that it is rare for a company to publish anything that could make them seem liable for the death.

“As a result, the cruise line is likely to find that the passenger’s death resulted from ‘natural causes,’ even if the totality of the circumstances at hand suggests otherwise,” according to his law firm.

Braise noted that in his decades of experience in the industry and law, alcohol is involved in the majority of cases.

Royal Caribbean did not respond to The Post’s request for comment.

Does the family have any recourse about the investigation?

The Cruise Vessel Security and Safety act, which was passed in 2010, mandates that cruises not only follow strict regulations to ensure passengers are safe, but to also track crimes aboard their ships.

In regards to Sunday’s incident, Brais said the man’s family should look at whether Royal had the proper barriers in place to keep people from falling overboard and if they had Man-Overboard cameras installed that alerted them to the incident.

Even if Royal Caribbean was found to be negligent in the man’s death, the compensation could be limited to just covering funeral expenses under the Death of the High Seas Act, Brais added.

How common are deaths on cruise ships?

It can be difficult to determine how many deaths have occurred on cruise ships as it’s up to the companies to report such incidents.

According to the Department of Transportation’s Cruise Line Incident reports, there have only been four deaths aboard major cruise lines between January 2020 to March 2024.

Despite these numbers, Brais said it’s not rare for such man overboard stories to make headlines once every three weeks.

According to cruise expert Dr. Ross Klein, who maintains a master list of media reports of incidents where passengers have gone overboard, there have been at least 410 people who have fallen off cruises or ferries in the last 24 years.

Icon of the Seas death is the second so far this year aboard a Royal Caribbean cruise. In April, a drunk 20-year-old passenger reportedly jumped to his death from the Liberty of the Seas following a dispute with his father.

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73-foot fishing vessels crashes into a pier and other boats in Ship Canal

A 73-foot fishing vessel crashed into several moored vessels and a pier on Wednesday morning in the Lake Washington Ship Canal just west of the Ballard Bridge.

The U.S. Coast Guard responded to the incident, along with pollution teams to mitigate any environmental impacts.

#BREAKING (1/2) #USCG crews are responding to an incident west of the Ballard Bridge in Seattle where a 73-foot fishing vessel collided into a pier and several other moored vessels. Pollution teams are on scene to mitigate any potential environmental impacts… pic.twitter.com/brTXRZWJkZ — USCGPacificNorthwest (@USCGPacificNW) May 22, 2024

The Coast Guard said about five to six other boats were damaged during the incident. The fishing vessel was moved to Fisherman’s Terminal, and the Seattle District U.S. Army Corps of Engineers is managing the dock damage.

The Coast Guard said the “preliminary reports point to a mechanical failure aboard the fishing vessel” which cause the crash.

Photo: U.S. Coast Guard

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Watch CBS News

First cruise ship leaves Port of Baltimore since Key Bridge collapse

By Christian Olaniran

Updated on: May 25, 2024 / 6:15 PM EDT / CBS Baltimore

BALTIMORE -- For the first time since the collapse of the Francis Scott Key Bridge, a cruise ship has left the Port of Baltimore.

Royal Carribean's Vision of the Seas left the port Saturday, embarking on a  five-night voyage from Baltimore to Bermuda. 

"Cruising is back in Baltimore "Port Executive Director Jonathan Daniels said at a press conference Sunday.

It's a Royal day in Baltimore! Cruise ships are back. Today, PoB Director Jonathan Daniels welcomed @RoyalCaribbean 's Vision of the Seas to our cruise terminal for the 1st time since the Key Bridge collapse. The ship embarks today on a 5-night voyage to Bermuda. Welcome back! pic.twitter.com/H2pqhQgigm — Port of Baltimore (@portofbalt) May 25, 2024

The Port of Baltimore  services many cruise ships  including Royal Caribbean, Carnival, and Norwegian.

It's been about two months since a cargo ship, the Dali, struck the Key Bridge which collapsed into the Patapsco River.  The accident killed eight construction workers who were on the bridge at the time of the collapse. 

The update marks significant progress since the collapse, as crews have worked continuously to clear the wreckage site .  

A Carnival cruise ship was expected to return to Baltimore in April, but after the Key Bridge collapse, it ported in Norfolk, Virginia.

Christian Olaniran is a digital producer for CBS Baltimore, where he writes stories on diverse topics including politics, arts and culture. With a passion for storytelling and content creation, he produces engaging visual content for social media, and other platforms.

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Crying Myself to Sleep on the Biggest Cruise Ship Ever

Seven agonizing nights aboard the Icon of the Seas

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Updated at 2:44 p.m. ET on April 6, 2024.

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MY FIRST GLIMPSE of Royal Caribbean’s Icon of the Seas, from the window of an approaching Miami cab, brings on a feeling of vertigo, nausea, amazement, and distress. I shut my eyes in defense, as my brain tells my optic nerve to try again.

The ship makes no sense, vertically or horizontally. It makes no sense on sea, or on land, or in outer space. It looks like a hodgepodge of domes and minarets, tubes and canopies, like Istanbul had it been designed by idiots. Vibrant, oversignifying colors are stacked upon other such colors, decks perched over still more decks; the only comfort is a row of lifeboats ringing its perimeter. There is no imposed order, no cogent thought, and, for those who do not harbor a totalitarian sense of gigantomania, no visual mercy. This is the biggest cruise ship ever built, and I have been tasked with witnessing its inaugural voyage.

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“Author embarks on their first cruise-ship voyage” has been a staple of American essay writing for almost three decades, beginning with David Foster Wallace’s “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again,” which was first published in 1996 under the title “Shipping Out.” Since then, many admirable writers have widened and diversified the genre. Usually the essayist commissioned to take to the sea is in their first or second flush of youth and is ready to sharpen their wit against the hull of the offending vessel. I am 51, old and tired, having seen much of the world as a former travel journalist, and mostly what I do in both life and prose is shrug while muttering to my imaginary dachshund, “This too shall pass.” But the Icon of the Seas will not countenance a shrug. The Icon of the Seas is the Linda Loman of cruise ships, exclaiming that attention must be paid. And here I am in late January with my one piece of luggage and useless gray winter jacket and passport, zipping through the Port of Miami en route to the gangway that will separate me from the bulk of North America for more than seven days, ready to pay it in full.

The aforementioned gangway opens up directly onto a thriving mall (I will soon learn it is imperiously called the “Royal Promenade”), presently filled with yapping passengers beneath a ceiling studded with balloons ready to drop. Crew members from every part of the global South, as well as a few Balkans, are shepherding us along while pressing flutes of champagne into our hands. By a humming Starbucks, I drink as many of these as I can and prepare to find my cabin. I show my blue Suite Sky SeaPass Card (more on this later, much more) to a smiling woman from the Philippines, and she tells me to go “aft.” Which is where, now? As someone who has rarely sailed on a vessel grander than the Staten Island Ferry, I am confused. It turns out that the aft is the stern of the ship, or, for those of us who don’t know what a stern or an aft are, its ass. The nose of the ship, responsible for separating the waves before it, is also called a bow, and is marked for passengers as the FWD , or forward. The part of the contemporary sailing vessel where the malls are clustered is called the midship. I trust that you have enjoyed this nautical lesson.

I ascend via elevator to my suite on Deck 11. This is where I encounter my first terrible surprise. My suite windows and balcony do not face the ocean. Instead, they look out onto another shopping mall. This mall is the one that’s called Central Park, perhaps in homage to the Olmsted-designed bit of greenery in the middle of my hometown. Although on land I would be delighted to own a suite with Central Park views, here I am deeply depressed. To sail on a ship and not wake up to a vast blue carpet of ocean? Unthinkable.

Allow me a brief preamble here. The story you are reading was commissioned at a moment when most staterooms on the Icon were sold out. In fact, so enthralled by the prospect of this voyage were hard-core mariners that the ship’s entire inventory of guest rooms (the Icon can accommodate up to 7,600 passengers, but its inaugural journey was reduced to 5,000 or so for a less crowded experience) was almost immediately sold out. Hence, this publication was faced with the shocking prospect of paying nearly $19,000 to procure for this solitary passenger an entire suite—not including drinking expenses—all for the privilege of bringing you this article. But the suite in question doesn’t even have a view of the ocean! I sit down hard on my soft bed. Nineteen thousand dollars for this .

The viewless suite does have its pluses. In addition to all the Malin+Goetz products in my dual bathrooms, I am granted use of a dedicated Suite Deck lounge; access to Coastal Kitchen, a superior restaurant for Suites passengers; complimentary VOOM SM Surf & Stream (“the fastest Internet at Sea”) “for one device per person for the whole cruise duration”; a pair of bathrobes (one of which comes prestained with what looks like a large expectoration by the greenest lizard on Earth); and use of the Grove Suite Sun, an area on Decks 18 and 19 with food and deck chairs reserved exclusively for Suite passengers. I also get reserved seating for a performance of The Wizard of Oz , an ice-skating tribute to the periodic table, and similar provocations. The very color of my Suite Sky SeaPass Card, an oceanic blue as opposed to the cloying royal purple of the standard non-Suite passenger, will soon provoke envy and admiration. But as high as my status may be, there are those on board who have much higher status still, and I will soon learn to bow before them.

In preparation for sailing, I have “priced in,” as they say on Wall Street, the possibility that I may come from a somewhat different monde than many of the other cruisers. Without falling into stereotypes or preconceptions, I prepare myself for a friendly outspokenness on the part of my fellow seafarers that may not comply with modern DEI standards. I believe in meeting people halfway, and so the day before flying down to Miami, I visited what remains of Little Italy to purchase a popular T-shirt that reads DADDY’S LITTLE MEATBALL across the breast in the colors of the Italian flag. My wife recommended that I bring one of my many T-shirts featuring Snoopy and the Peanuts gang, as all Americans love the beagle and his friends. But I naively thought that my meatball T-shirt would be more suitable for conversation-starting. “Oh, and who is your ‘daddy’?” some might ask upon seeing it. “And how long have you been his ‘little meatball’?” And so on.

I put on my meatball T-shirt and head for one of the dining rooms to get a late lunch. In the elevator, I stick out my chest for all to read the funny legend upon it, but soon I realize that despite its burnished tricolor letters, no one takes note. More to the point, no one takes note of me. Despite my attempts at bridge building, the very sight of me (small, ethnic, without a cap bearing the name of a football team) elicits no reaction from other passengers. Most often, they will small-talk over me as if I don’t exist. This brings to mind the travails of David Foster Wallace , who felt so ostracized by his fellow passengers that he retreated to his cabin for much of his voyage. And Wallace was raised primarily in the Midwest and was a much larger, more American-looking meatball than I am. If he couldn’t talk to these people, how will I? What if I leave this ship without making any friends at all, despite my T-shirt? I am a social creature, and the prospect of seven days alone and apart is saddening. Wallace’s stateroom, at least, had a view of the ocean, a kind of cheap eternity.

Worse awaits me in the dining room. This is a large, multichandeliered room where I attended my safety training (I was shown how to put on a flotation vest; it is a very simple procedure). But the maître d’ politely refuses me entry in an English that seems to verge on another language. “I’m sorry, this is only for pendejos ,” he seems to be saying. I push back politely and he repeats himself. Pendejos ? Piranhas? There’s some kind of P-word to which I am not attuned. Meanwhile elderly passengers stream right past, powered by their limbs, walkers, and electric wheelchairs. “It is only pendejo dining today, sir.” “But I have a suite!” I say, already starting to catch on to the ship’s class system. He examines my card again. “But you are not a pendejo ,” he confirms. I am wearing a DADDY’S LITTLE MEATBALL T-shirt, I want to say to him. I am the essence of pendejo .

Eventually, I give up and head to the plebeian buffet on Deck 15, which has an aquatic-styled name I have now forgotten. Before gaining entry to this endless cornucopia of reheated food, one passes a washing station of many sinks and soap dispensers, and perhaps the most intriguing character on the entire ship. He is Mr. Washy Washy—or, according to his name tag, Nielbert of the Philippines—and he is dressed as a taco (on other occasions, I’ll see him dressed as a burger). Mr. Washy Washy performs an eponymous song in spirited, indeed flamboyant English: “Washy, washy, wash your hands, WASHY WASHY!” The dangers of norovirus and COVID on a cruise ship this size (a giant fellow ship was stricken with the former right after my voyage) makes Mr. Washy Washy an essential member of the crew. The problem lies with the food at the end of Washy’s rainbow. The buffet is groaning with what sounds like sophisticated dishes—marinated octopus, boiled egg with anchovy, chorizo, lobster claws—but every animal tastes tragically the same, as if there was only one creature available at the market, a “cruisipus” bred specifically for Royal Caribbean dining. The “vegetables” are no better. I pick up a tomato slice and look right through it. It tastes like cellophane. I sit alone, apart from the couples and parents with gaggles of children, as “We Are Family” echoes across the buffet space.

I may have failed to mention that all this time, the Icon of the Seas has not left port. As the fiery mango of the subtropical setting sun makes Miami’s condo skyline even more apocalyptic, the ship shoves off beneath a perfunctory display of fireworks. After the sun sets, in the far, dark distance, another circus-lit cruise ship ruptures the waves before us. We glance at it with pity, because it is by definition a smaller ship than our own. I am on Deck 15, outside the buffet and overlooking a bunch of pools (the Icon has seven of them), drinking a frilly drink that I got from one of the bars (the Icon has 15 of them), still too shy to speak to anyone, despite Sister Sledge’s assertion that all on the ship are somehow related.

Kim Brooks: On failing the family vacation

The ship’s passage away from Ron DeSantis’s Florida provides no frisson, no sense of developing “sea legs,” as the ship is too large to register the presence of waves unless a mighty wind adds significant chop. It is time for me to register the presence of the 5,000 passengers around me, even if they refuse to register mine. My fellow travelers have prepared for this trip with personally decorated T-shirts celebrating the importance of this voyage. The simplest ones say ICON INAUGURAL ’24 on the back and the family name on the front. Others attest to an over-the-top love of cruise ships: WARNING! MAY START TALKING ABOUT CRUISING . Still others are artisanally designed and celebrate lifetimes spent married while cruising (on ships, of course). A couple possibly in their 90s are wearing shirts whose backs feature a drawing of a cruise liner, two flamingos with ostensibly male and female characteristics, and the legend “ HUSBAND AND WIFE Cruising Partners FOR LIFE WE MAY NOT HAVE IT All Together BUT TOGETHER WE HAVE IT ALL .” (The words not in all caps have been written in cursive.) A real journalist or a more intrepid conversationalist would have gone up to the couple and asked them to explain the longevity of their marriage vis-à-vis their love of cruising. But instead I head to my mall suite, take off my meatball T-shirt, and allow the first tears of the cruise to roll down my cheeks slowly enough that I briefly fall asleep amid the moisture and salt.

I WAKE UP with a hangover. Oh God. Right. I cannot believe all of that happened last night. A name floats into my cobwebbed, nauseated brain: “Ayn Rand.” Jesus Christ.

I breakfast alone at the Coastal Kitchen. The coffee tastes fine and the eggs came out of a bird. The ship rolls slightly this morning; I can feel it in my thighs and my schlong, the parts of me that are most receptive to danger.

I had a dangerous conversation last night. After the sun set and we were at least 50 miles from shore (most modern cruise ships sail at about 23 miles an hour), I lay in bed softly hiccupping, my arms stretched out exactly like Jesus on the cross, the sound of the distant waves missing from my mall-facing suite, replaced by the hum of air-conditioning and children shouting in Spanish through the vents of my two bathrooms. I decided this passivity was unacceptable. As an immigrant, I feel duty-bound to complete the tasks I am paid for, which means reaching out and trying to understand my fellow cruisers. So I put on a normal James Perse T-shirt and headed for one of the bars on the Royal Promenade—the Schooner Bar, it was called, if memory serves correctly.

I sat at the bar for a martini and two Negronis. An old man with thick, hairy forearms drank next to me, very silent and Hemingwaylike, while a dreadlocked piano player tinkled out a series of excellent Elton John covers. To my right, a young white couple—he in floral shorts, she in a light, summery miniskirt with a fearsome diamond ring, neither of them in football regalia—chatted with an elderly couple. Do it , I commanded myself. Open your mouth. Speak! Speak without being spoken to. Initiate. A sentence fragment caught my ear from the young woman, “Cherry Hill.” This is a suburb of Philadelphia in New Jersey, and I had once been there for a reading at a synagogue. “Excuse me,” I said gently to her. “Did you just mention Cherry Hill? It’s a lovely place.”

As it turned out, the couple now lived in Fort Lauderdale (the number of Floridians on the cruise surprised me, given that Southern Florida is itself a kind of cruise ship, albeit one slowly sinking), but soon they were talking with me exclusively—the man potbellied, with a chin like a hard-boiled egg; the woman as svelte as if she were one of the many Ukrainian members of the crew—the elderly couple next to them forgotten. This felt as groundbreaking as the first time I dared to address an American in his native tongue, as a child on a bus in Queens (“On my foot you are standing, Mister”).

“I don’t want to talk politics,” the man said. “But they’re going to eighty-six Biden and put Michelle in.”

I considered the contradictions of his opening conversational gambit, but decided to play along. “People like Michelle,” I said, testing the waters. The husband sneered, but the wife charitably put forward that the former first lady was “more personable” than Joe Biden. “They’re gonna eighty-six Biden,” the husband repeated. “He can’t put a sentence together.”

After I mentioned that I was a writer—though I presented myself as a writer of teleplays instead of novels and articles such as this one—the husband told me his favorite writer was Ayn Rand. “Ayn Rand, she came here with nothing,” the husband said. “I work with a lot of Cubans, so …” I wondered if I should mention what I usually do to ingratiate myself with Republicans or libertarians: the fact that my finances improved after pass-through corporations were taxed differently under Donald Trump. Instead, I ordered another drink and the couple did the same, and I told him that Rand and I were born in the same city, St. Petersburg/Leningrad, and that my family also came here with nothing. Now the bonding and drinking began in earnest, and several more rounds appeared. Until it all fell apart.

Read: Gary Shteyngart on watching Russian television for five days straight

My new friend, whom I will refer to as Ayn, called out to a buddy of his across the bar, and suddenly a young couple, both covered in tattoos, appeared next to us. “He fucking punked me,” Ayn’s frat-boy-like friend called out as he put his arm around Ayn, while his sizable partner sizzled up to Mrs. Rand. Both of them had a look I have never seen on land—their eyes projecting absence and enmity in equal measure. In the ’90s, I drank with Russian soldiers fresh from Chechnya and wandered the streets of wartime Zagreb, but I have never seen such undisguised hostility toward both me and perhaps the universe at large. I was briefly introduced to this psychopathic pair, but neither of them wanted to have anything to do with me, and the tattooed woman would not even reveal her Christian name to me (she pretended to have the same first name as Mrs. Rand). To impress his tattooed friends, Ayn made fun of the fact that as a television writer, I’d worked on the series Succession (which, it would turn out, practically nobody on the ship had watched), instead of the far more palatable, in his eyes, zombie drama of last year. And then my new friends drifted away from me into an angry private conversation—“He punked me!”—as I ordered another drink for myself, scared of the dead-eyed arrivals whose gaze never registered in the dim wattage of the Schooner Bar, whose terrifying voices and hollow laughs grated like unoiled gears against the crooning of “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.”

But today is a new day for me and my hangover. After breakfast, I explore the ship’s so-called neighborhoods . There’s the AquaDome, where one can find a food hall and an acrobatic sound-and-light aquatic show. Central Park has a premium steak house, a sushi joint, and a used Rolex that can be bought for $8,000 on land here proudly offered at $17,000. There’s the aforementioned Royal Promenade, where I had drunk with the Rands, and where a pair of dueling pianos duel well into the night. There’s Surfside, a kids’ neighborhood full of sugary garbage, which looks out onto the frothy trail that the behemoth leaves behind itself. Thrill Island refers to the collection of tubes that clutter the ass of the ship and offer passengers six waterslides and a surfing simulation. There’s the Hideaway, an adult zone that plays music from a vomit-slathered, Brit-filled Alicante nightclub circa 1996 and proves a big favorite with groups of young Latin American customers. And, most hurtfully, there’s the Suite Neighborhood.

I say hurtfully because as a Suite passenger I should be here, though my particular suite is far from the others. Whereas I am stuck amid the riffraff of Deck 11, this section is on the highborn Decks 16 and 17, and in passing, I peek into the spacious, tall-ceilinged staterooms from the hallway, dazzled by the glint of the waves and sun. For $75,000, one multifloor suite even comes with its own slide between floors, so that a family may enjoy this particular terror in private. There is a quiet splendor to the Suite Neighborhood. I see fewer stickers and signs and drawings than in my own neighborhood—for example, MIKE AND DIANA PROUDLY SERVED U.S. MARINE CORPS RETIRED . No one here needs to announce their branch of service or rank; they are simply Suites, and this is where they belong. Once again, despite my hard work and perseverance, I have been disallowed from the true American elite. Once again, I am “Not our class, dear.” I am reminded of watching The Love Boat on my grandmother’s Zenith, which either was given to her or we found in the trash (I get our many malfunctioning Zeniths confused) and whose tube got so hot, I would put little chunks of government cheese on a thin tissue atop it to give our welfare treat a pleasant, Reagan-era gooeyness. I could not understand English well enough then to catch the nuances of that seafaring program, but I knew that there were differences in the status of the passengers, and that sometimes those differences made them sad. Still, this ship, this plenty—every few steps, there are complimentary nachos or milkshakes or gyros on offer—was the fatty fuel of my childhood dreams. If only I had remained a child.

I walk around the outdoor decks looking for company. There is a middle-aged African American couple who always seem to be asleep in each other’s arms, probably exhausted from the late capitalism they regularly encounter on land. There is far more diversity on this ship than I expected. Many couples are a testament to Loving v. Virginia , and there is a large group of folks whose T-shirts read MELANIN AT SEA / IT’S THE MELANIN FOR ME . I smile when I see them, but then some young kids from the group makes Mr. Washy Washy do a cruel, caricatured “Burger Dance” (today he is in his burger getup), and I think, Well, so much for intersectionality .

At the infinity pool on Deck 17, I spot some elderly women who could be ethnic and from my part of the world, and so I jump in. I am proved correct! Many of them seem to be originally from Queens (“Corona was still great when it was all Italian”), though they are now spread across the tristate area. We bond over the way “Ron-kon-koma” sounds when announced in Penn Station.

“Everyone is here for a different reason,” one of them tells me. She and her ex-husband last sailed together four years ago to prove to themselves that their marriage was truly over. Her 15-year-old son lost his virginity to “an Irish young lady” while their ship was moored in Ravenna, Italy. The gaggle of old-timers competes to tell me their favorite cruising stories and tips. “A guy proposed in Central Park a couple of years ago”—many Royal Caribbean ships apparently have this ridiculous communal area—“and she ran away screaming!” “If you’re diamond-class, you get four drinks for free.” “A different kind of passenger sails out of Bayonne.” (This, perhaps, is racially coded.) “Sometimes, if you tip the bartender $5, your next drink will be free.”

“Everyone’s here for a different reason,” the woman whose marriage ended on a cruise tells me again. “Some people are here for bad reasons—the drinkers and the gamblers. Some people are here for medical reasons.” I have seen more than a few oxygen tanks and at least one woman clearly undergoing very serious chemo. Some T-shirts celebrate good news about a cancer diagnosis. This might be someone’s last cruise or week on Earth. For these women, who have spent months, if not years, at sea, cruising is a ritual as well as a life cycle: first love, last love, marriage, divorce, death.

Read: The last place on Earth any tourist should go

I have talked with these women for so long, tonight I promise myself that after a sad solitary dinner I will not try to seek out company at the bars in the mall or the adult-themed Hideaway. I have enough material to fulfill my duties to this publication. As I approach my orphaned suite, I run into the aggro young people who stole Mr. and Mrs. Rand away from me the night before. The tattooed apparitions pass me without a glance. She is singing something violent about “Stuttering Stanley” (a character in a popular horror movie, as I discover with my complimentary VOOM SM Surf & Stream Internet at Sea) and he’s loudly shouting about “all the money I’ve lost,” presumably at the casino in the bowels of the ship.

So these bent psychos out of a Cormac McCarthy novel are angrily inhabiting my deck. As I mewl myself to sleep, I envision a limited series for HBO or some other streamer, a kind of low-rent White Lotus , where several aggressive couples conspire to throw a shy intellectual interloper overboard. I type the scenario into my phone. As I fall asleep, I think of what the woman who recently divorced her husband and whose son became a man through the good offices of the Irish Republic told me while I was hoisting myself out of the infinity pool. “I’m here because I’m an explorer. I’m here because I’m trying something new.” What if I allowed myself to believe in her fantasy?

“YOU REALLY STARTED AT THE TOP,” they tell me. I’m at the Coastal Kitchen for my eggs and corned-beef hash, and the maître d’ has slotted me in between two couples. Fueled by coffee or perhaps intrigued by my relative youth, they strike up a conversation with me. As always, people are shocked that this is my first cruise. They contrast the Icon favorably with all the preceding liners in the Royal Caribbean fleet, usually commenting on the efficiency of the elevators that hurl us from deck to deck (as in many large corporate buildings, the elevators ask you to choose a floor and then direct you to one of many lifts). The couple to my right, from Palo Alto—he refers to his “porn mustache” and calls his wife “my cougar” because she is two years older—tell me they are “Pandemic Pinnacles.”

This is the day that my eyes will be opened. Pinnacles , it is explained to me over translucent cantaloupe, have sailed with Royal Caribbean for 700 ungodly nights. Pandemic Pinnacles took advantage of the two-for-one accrual rate of Pinnacle points during the pandemic, when sailing on a cruise ship was even more ill-advised, to catapult themselves into Pinnacle status.

Because of the importance of the inaugural voyage of the world’s largest cruise liner, more than 200 Pinnacles are on this ship, a startling number, it seems. Mrs. Palo Alto takes out a golden badge that I have seen affixed over many a breast, which reads CROWN AND ANCHOR SOCIETY along with her name. This is the coveted badge of the Pinnacle. “You should hear all the whining in Guest Services,” her husband tells me. Apparently, the Pinnacles who are not also Suites like us are all trying to use their status to get into Coastal Kitchen, our elite restaurant. Even a Pinnacle needs to be a Suite to access this level of corned-beef hash.

“We’re just baby Pinnacles,” Mrs. Palo Alto tells me, describing a kind of internal class struggle among the Pinnacle elite for ever higher status.

And now I understand what the maître d’ was saying to me on the first day of my cruise. He wasn’t saying “ pendejo .” He was saying “Pinnacle.” The dining room was for Pinnacles only, all those older people rolling in like the tide on their motorized scooters.

And now I understand something else: This whole thing is a cult. And like most cults, it can’t help but mirror the endless American fight for status. Like Keith Raniere’s NXIVM, where different-colored sashes were given out to connote rank among Raniere’s branded acolytes, this is an endless competition among Pinnacles, Suites, Diamond-Plusers, and facing-the-mall, no-balcony purple SeaPass Card peasants, not to mention the many distinctions within each category. The more you cruise, the higher your status. No wonder a section of the Royal Promenade is devoted to getting passengers to book their next cruise during the one they should be enjoying now. No wonder desperate Royal Caribbean offers (“FINAL HOURS”) crowded my email account weeks before I set sail. No wonder the ship’s jewelry store, the Royal Bling, is selling a $100,000 golden chalice that will entitle its owner to drink free on Royal Caribbean cruises for life. (One passenger was already gaming out whether her 28-year-old son was young enough to “just about earn out” on the chalice or if that ship had sailed.) No wonder this ship was sold out months before departure , and we had to pay $19,000 for a horrid suite away from the Suite Neighborhood. No wonder the most mythical hero of Royal Caribbean lore is someone named Super Mario, who has cruised so often, he now has his own working desk on many ships. This whole experience is part cult, part nautical pyramid scheme.

From the June 2014 issue: Ship of wonks

“The toilets are amazing,” the Palo Altos are telling me. “One flush and you’re done.” “They don’t understand how energy-efficient these ships are,” the husband of the other couple is telling me. “They got the LNG”—liquefied natural gas, which is supposed to make the Icon a boon to the environment (a concept widely disputed and sometimes ridiculed by environmentalists).

But I’m thinking along a different line of attack as I spear my last pallid slice of melon. For my streaming limited series, a Pinnacle would have to get killed by either an outright peasant or a Suite without an ocean view. I tell my breakfast companions my idea.

“Oh, for sure a Pinnacle would have to be killed,” Mr. Palo Alto, the Pandemic Pinnacle, says, touching his porn mustache thoughtfully as his wife nods.

“THAT’S RIGHT, IT’S your time, buddy!” Hubert, my fun-loving Panamanian cabin attendant, shouts as I step out of my suite in a robe. “Take it easy, buddy!”

I have come up with a new dressing strategy. Instead of trying to impress with my choice of T-shirts, I have decided to start wearing a robe, as one does at a resort property on land, with a proper spa and hammam. The response among my fellow cruisers has been ecstatic. “Look at you in the robe!” Mr. Rand cries out as we pass each other by the Thrill Island aqua park. “You’re living the cruise life! You know, you really drank me under the table that night.” I laugh as we part ways, but my soul cries out, Please spend more time with me, Mr. and Mrs. Rand; I so need the company .

In my white robe, I am a stately presence, a refugee from a better limited series, a one-man crossover episode. (Only Suites are granted these robes to begin with.) Today, I will try many of the activities these ships have on offer to provide their clientele with a sense of never-ceasing motion. Because I am already at Thrill Island, I decide to climb the staircase to what looks like a mast on an old-fashioned ship (terrified, because I am afraid of heights) to try a ride called “Storm Chasers,” which is part of the “Category 6” water park, named in honor of one of the storms that may someday do away with the Port of Miami entirely. Storm Chasers consists of falling from the “mast” down a long, twisting neon tube filled with water, like being the camera inside your own colonoscopy, as you hold on to the handles of a mat, hoping not to die. The tube then flops you down headfirst into a trough of water, a Royal Caribbean baptism. It both knocks my breath out and makes me sad.

In keeping with the aquatic theme, I attend a show at the AquaDome. To the sound of “Live and Let Die,” a man in a harness gyrates to and fro in the sultry air. I saw something very similar in the back rooms of the famed Berghain club in early-aughts Berlin. Soon another harnessed man is gyrating next to the first. Ja , I think to myself, I know how this ends. Now will come the fisting , natürlich . But the show soon devolves into the usual Marvel-film-grade nonsense, with too much light and sound signifying nichts . If any fisting is happening, it is probably in the Suite Neighborhood, inside a cabin marked with an upside-down pineapple, which I understand means a couple are ready to swing, and I will see none of it.

I go to the ice show, which is a kind of homage—if that’s possible—to the periodic table, done with the style and pomp and masterful precision that would please the likes of Kim Jong Un, if only he could afford Royal Caribbean talent. At one point, the dancers skate to the theme song of Succession . “See that!” I want to say to my fellow Suites—at “cultural” events, we have a special section reserved for us away from the commoners—“ Succession ! It’s even better than the zombie show! Open your minds!”

Finally, I visit a comedy revue in an enormous and too brightly lit version of an “intimate,” per Royal Caribbean literature, “Manhattan comedy club.” Many of the jokes are about the cruising life. “I’ve lived on ships for 20 years,” one of the middle-aged comedians says. “I can only see so many Filipino homosexuals dressed as a taco.” He pauses while the audience laughs. “I am so fired tonight,” he says. He segues into a Trump impression and then Biden falling asleep at the microphone, which gets the most laughs. “Anyone here from Fort Leonard Wood?” another comedian asks. Half the crowd seems to cheer. As I fall asleep that night, I realize another connection I have failed to make, and one that may explain some of the diversity on this vessel—many of its passengers have served in the military.

As a coddled passenger with a suite, I feel like I am starting to understand what it means to have a rank and be constantly reminded of it. There are many espresso makers , I think as I look across the expanse of my officer-grade quarters before closing my eyes, but this one is mine .

A shocking sight greets me beyond the pools of Deck 17 as I saunter over to the Coastal Kitchen for my morning intake of slightly sour Americanos. A tiny city beneath a series of perfectly pressed green mountains. Land! We have docked for a brief respite in Basseterre, the capital of St. Kitts and Nevis. I wolf down my egg scramble to be one of the first passengers off the ship. Once past the gangway, I barely refrain from kissing the ground. I rush into the sights and sounds of this scruffy island city, sampling incredible conch curry and buckets of non-Starbucks coffee. How wonderful it is to be where God intended humans to be: on land. After all, I am neither a fish nor a mall rat. This is my natural environment. Basseterre may not be Havana, but there are signs of human ingenuity and desire everywhere you look. The Black Table Grill Has been Relocated to Soho Village, Market Street, Directly Behind of, Gary’s Fruits and Flower Shop. Signed. THE PORK MAN reads a sign stuck to a wall. Now, that is how you write a sign. A real sign, not the come-ons for overpriced Rolexes that blink across the screens of the Royal Promenade.

“Hey, tie your shoestring!” a pair of laughing ladies shout to me across the street.

“Thank you!” I shout back. Shoestring! “Thank you very much.”

A man in Independence Square Park comes by and asks if I want to play with his monkey. I haven’t heard that pickup line since the Penn Station of the 1980s. But then he pulls a real monkey out of a bag. The monkey is wearing a diaper and looks insane. Wonderful , I think, just wonderful! There is so much life here. I email my editor asking if I can remain on St. Kitts and allow the Icon to sail off into the horizon without me. I have even priced a flight home at less than $300, and I have enough material from the first four days on the cruise to write the entire story. “It would be funny …” my editor replies. “Now get on the boat.”

As I slink back to the ship after my brief jailbreak, the locals stand under umbrellas to gaze at and photograph the boat that towers over their small capital city. The limousines of the prime minister and his lackeys are parked beside the gangway. St. Kitts, I’ve been told, is one of the few islands that would allow a ship of this size to dock.

“We hear about all the waterslides,” a sweet young server in one of the cafés told me. “We wish we could go on the ship, but we have to work.”

“I want to stay on your island,” I replied. “I love it here.”

But she didn’t understand how I could possibly mean that.

“WASHY, WASHY, so you don’t get stinky, stinky!” kids are singing outside the AquaDome, while their adult minders look on in disapproval, perhaps worried that Mr. Washy Washy is grooming them into a life of gayness. I heard a southern couple skip the buffet entirely out of fear of Mr. Washy Washy.

Meanwhile, I have found a new watering hole for myself, the Swim & Tonic, the biggest swim-up bar on any cruise ship in the world. Drinking next to full-size, nearly naked Americans takes away one’s own self-consciousness. The men have curvaceous mom bodies. The women are equally un-shy about their sprawling physiques.

Today I’ve befriended a bald man with many children who tells me that all of the little trinkets that Royal Caribbean has left us in our staterooms and suites are worth a fortune on eBay. “Eighty dollars for the water bottle, 60 for the lanyard,” the man says. “This is a cult.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. There is, however, a clientele for whom this cruise makes perfect sense. For a large middle-class family (he works in “supply chains”), seven days in a lower-tier cabin—which starts at $1,800 a person—allow the parents to drop off their children in Surfside, where I imagine many young Filipina crew members will take care of them, while the parents are free to get drunk at a swim-up bar and maybe even get intimate in their cabin. Cruise ships have become, for a certain kind of hardworking family, a form of subsidized child care.

There is another man I would like to befriend at the Swim & Tonic, a tall, bald fellow who is perpetually inebriated and who wears a necklace studded with little rubber duckies in sunglasses, which, I am told, is a sort of secret handshake for cruise aficionados. Tomorrow, I will spend more time with him, but first the ship docks at St. Thomas, in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Charlotte Amalie, the capital, is more charming in name than in presence, but I still all but jump off the ship to score a juicy oxtail and plantains at the well-known Petite Pump Room, overlooking the harbor. From one of the highest points in the small city, the Icon of the Seas appears bigger than the surrounding hills.

I usually tan very evenly, but something about the discombobulation of life at sea makes me forget the regular application of sunscreen. As I walk down the streets of Charlotte Amalie in my fluorescent Icon of the Seas cap, an old Rastafarian stares me down. “Redneck,” he hisses.

“No,” I want to tell him, as I bring a hand up to my red neck, “that’s not who I am at all. On my island, Mannahatta, as Whitman would have it, I am an interesting person living within an engaging artistic milieu. I do not wish to use the Caribbean as a dumping ground for the cruise-ship industry. I love the work of Derek Walcott. You don’t understand. I am not a redneck. And if I am, they did this to me.” They meaning Royal Caribbean? Its passengers? The Rands?

“They did this to me!”

Back on the Icon, some older matrons are muttering about a run-in with passengers from the Celebrity cruise ship docked next to us, the Celebrity Apex. Although Celebrity Cruises is also owned by Royal Caribbean, I am made to understand that there is a deep fratricidal beef between passengers of the two lines. “We met a woman from the Apex,” one matron says, “and she says it was a small ship and there was nothing to do. Her face was as tight as a 19-year-old’s, she had so much surgery.” With those words, and beneath a cloudy sky, humidity shrouding our weathered faces and red necks, we set sail once again, hopefully in the direction of home.

THERE ARE BARELY 48 HOURS LEFT to the cruise, and the Icon of the Seas’ passengers are salty. They know how to work the elevators. They know the Washy Washy song by heart. They understand that the chicken gyro at “Feta Mediterranean,” in the AquaDome Market, is the least problematic form of chicken on the ship.

The passengers have shed their INAUGURAL CRUISE T-shirts and are now starting to evince political opinions. There are caps pledging to make America great again and T-shirts that celebrate words sometimes attributed to Patrick Henry: “The Constitution is not an instrument for the government to restrain the people; it is an instrument for the people to restrain the government.” With their preponderance of FAMILY FLAG FAITH FRIENDS FIREARMS T-shirts, the tables by the crepe station sometimes resemble the Capitol Rotunda on January 6. The Real Anthony Fauci , by Robert F. Kennedy Jr., appears to be a popular form of literature, especially among young men with very complicated versions of the American flag on their T-shirts. Other opinions blend the personal and the political. “Someone needs to kill Washy guy, right?” a well-dressed man in the elevator tells me, his gray eyes radiating nothing. “Just beat him to death. Am I right?” I overhear the male member of a young couple whisper, “There goes that freak” as I saunter by in my white spa robe, and I decide to retire it for the rest of the cruise.

I visit the Royal Bling to see up close the $100,000 golden chalice that entitles you to free drinks on Royal Caribbean forever. The pleasant Serbian saleslady explains that the chalice is actually gold-plated and covered in white zirconia instead of diamonds, as it would otherwise cost $1 million. “If you already have everything,” she explains, “this is one more thing you can get.”

I believe that anyone who works for Royal Caribbean should be entitled to immediate American citizenship. They already speak English better than most of the passengers and, per the Serbian lady’s sales pitch above, better understand what America is as well. Crew members like my Panamanian cabin attendant seem to work 24 hours a day. A waiter from New Delhi tells me that his contract is six months and three weeks long. After a cruise ends, he says, “in a few hours, we start again for the next cruise.” At the end of the half a year at sea, he is allowed a two-to-three-month stay at home with his family. As of 2019, the median income for crew members was somewhere in the vicinity of $20,000, according to a major business publication. Royal Caribbean would not share the current median salary for its crew members, but I am certain that it amounts to a fraction of the cost of a Royal Bling gold-plated, zirconia-studded chalice.

And because most of the Icon’s hyper-sanitized spaces are just a frittata away from being a Delta lounge, one forgets that there are actual sailors on this ship, charged with the herculean task of docking it in port. “Having driven 100,000-ton aircraft carriers throughout my career,” retired Admiral James G. Stavridis, the former NATO Supreme Allied Commander Europe, writes to me, “I’m not sure I would even know where to begin with trying to control a sea monster like this one nearly three times the size.” (I first met Stavridis while touring Army bases in Germany more than a decade ago.)

Today, I decide to head to the hot tub near Swim & Tonic, where some of the ship’s drunkest reprobates seem to gather (the other tubs are filled with families and couples). The talk here, like everywhere else on the ship, concerns football, a sport about which I know nothing. It is apparent that four teams have recently competed in some kind of finals for the year, and that two of them will now face off in the championship. Often when people on the Icon speak, I will try to repeat the last thing they said with a laugh or a nod of disbelief. “Yes, 20-yard line! Ha!” “Oh my God, of course, scrimmage.”

Soon we are joined in the hot tub by the late-middle-age drunk guy with the duck necklace. He is wearing a bucket hat with the legend HAWKEYES , which, I soon gather, is yet another football team. “All right, who turned me in?” Duck Necklace says as he plops into the tub beside us. “I get a call in the morning,” he says. “It’s security. Can you come down to the dining room by 10 a.m.? You need to stay away from the members of this religious family.” Apparently, the gregarious Duck Necklace had photobombed the wrong people. There are several families who present as evangelical Christians or practicing Muslims on the ship. One man, evidently, was not happy that Duck Necklace had made contact with his relatives. “It’s because of religious stuff; he was offended. I put my arm around 20 people a day.”

Everyone laughs. “They asked me three times if I needed medication,” he says of the security people who apparently interrogated him in full view of others having breakfast.

Another hot-tub denizen suggests that he should have asked for fentanyl. After a few more drinks, Duck Necklace begins to muse about what it would be like to fall off the ship. “I’m 62 and I’m ready to go,” he says. “I just don’t want a shark to eat me. I’m a huge God guy. I’m a Bible guy. There’s some Mayan theory squaring science stuff with religion. There is so much more to life on Earth.” We all nod into our Red Stripes.

“I never get off the ship when we dock,” he says. He tells us he lost $6,000 in the casino the other day. Later, I look him up, and it appears that on land, he’s a financial adviser in a crisp gray suit, probably a pillar of his North Chicago community.

THE OCEAN IS TEEMING with fascinating life, but on the surface it has little to teach us. The waves come and go. The horizon remains ever far away.

I am constantly told by my fellow passengers that “everybody here has a story.” Yes, I want to reply, but everybody everywhere has a story. You, the reader of this essay, have a story, and yet you’re not inclined to jump on a cruise ship and, like Duck Necklace, tell your story to others at great pitch and volume. Maybe what they’re saying is that everybody on this ship wants to have a bigger, more coherent, more interesting story than the one they’ve been given. Maybe that’s why there’s so much signage on the doors around me attesting to marriages spent on the sea. Maybe that’s why the Royal Caribbean newsletter slipped under my door tells me that “this isn’t a vacation day spent—it’s bragging rights earned.” Maybe that’s why I’m so lonely.

Today is a big day for Icon passengers. Today the ship docks at Royal Caribbean’s own Bahamian island, the Perfect Day at CocoCay. (This appears to be the actual name of the island.) A comedian at the nightclub opined on what his perfect day at CocoCay would look like—receiving oral sex while learning that his ex-wife had been killed in a car crash (big laughter). But the reality of the island is far less humorous than that.

One of the ethnic tristate ladies in the infinity pool told me that she loved CocoCay because it had exactly the same things that could be found on the ship itself. This proves to be correct. It is like the Icon, but with sand. The same tired burgers, the same colorful tubes conveying children and water from Point A to B. The same swim-up bar at its Hideaway ($140 for admittance, no children allowed; Royal Caribbean must be printing money off its clientele). “There was almost a fight at The Wizard of Oz ,” I overhear an elderly woman tell her companion on a chaise lounge. Apparently one of the passengers began recording Royal Caribbean’s intellectual property and “three guys came after him.”

I walk down a pathway to the center of the island, where a sign reads DO NOT ENTER: YOU HAVE REACHED THE BOUNDARY OF ADVENTURE . I hear an animal scampering in the bushes. A Royal Caribbean worker in an enormous golf cart soon chases me down and takes me back to the Hideaway, where I run into Mrs. Rand in a bikini. She becomes livid telling me about an altercation she had the other day with a woman over a towel and a deck chair. We Suites have special towel privileges; we do not have to hand over our SeaPass Card to score a towel. But the Rands are not Suites. “People are so entitled here,” Mrs. Rand says. “It’s like the airport with all its classes.” “You see,” I want to say, “this is where your husband’s love of Ayn Rand runs into the cruelties and arbitrary indignities of unbridled capitalism.” Instead we make plans to meet for a final drink in the Schooner Bar tonight (the Rands will stand me up).

Back on the ship, I try to do laps, but the pool (the largest on any cruise ship, naturally) is fully trashed with the detritus of American life: candy wrappers, a slowly dissolving tortilla chip, napkins. I take an extra-long shower in my suite, then walk around the perimeter of the ship on a kind of exercise track, past all the alluring lifeboats in their yellow-and-white livery. Maybe there is a dystopian angle to the HBO series that I will surely end up pitching, one with shades of WALL-E or Snowpiercer . In a collapsed world, a Royal Caribbean–like cruise liner sails from port to port, collecting new shipmates and supplies in exchange for the precious energy it has on board. (The actual Icon features a new technology that converts passengers’ poop into enough energy to power the waterslides . In the series, this shitty technology would be greatly expanded.) A very young woman (18? 19?), smart and lonely, who has only known life on the ship, walks along the same track as I do now, contemplating jumping off into the surf left by its wake. I picture reusing Duck Necklace’s words in the opening shot of the pilot. The girl is walking around the track, her eyes on the horizon; maybe she’s highborn—a Suite—and we hear the voice-over: “I’m 19 and I’m ready to go. I just don’t want a shark to eat me.”

Before the cruise is finished, I talk to Mr. Washy Washy, or Nielbert of the Philippines. He is a sweet, gentle man, and I thank him for the earworm of a song he has given me and for keeping us safe from the dreaded norovirus. “This is very important to me, getting people to wash their hands,” he tells me in his burger getup. He has dreams, as an artist and a performer, but they are limited in scope. One day he wants to dress up as a piece of bacon for the morning shift.

THE MAIDEN VOYAGE OF THE TITANIC (the Icon of the Seas is five times as large as that doomed vessel) at least offered its passengers an exciting ending to their cruise, but when I wake up on the eighth day, all I see are the gray ghosts that populate Miami’s condo skyline. Throughout my voyage, my writer friends wrote in to commiserate with me. Sloane Crosley, who once covered a three-day spa mini-cruise for Vogue , tells me she felt “so very alone … I found it very untethering.” Gideon Lewis-Kraus writes in an Instagram comment: “When Gary is done I think it’s time this genre was taken out back and shot.” And he is right. To badly paraphrase Adorno: After this, no more cruise stories. It is unfair to put a thinking person on a cruise ship. Writers typically have difficult childhoods, and it is cruel to remind them of the inherent loneliness that drove them to writing in the first place. It is also unseemly to write about the kind of people who go on cruises. Our country does not provide the education and upbringing that allow its citizens an interior life. For the creative class to point fingers at the large, breasty gentlemen adrift in tortilla-chip-laden pools of water is to gather a sour harvest of low-hanging fruit.

A day or two before I got off the ship, I decided to make use of my balcony, which I had avoided because I thought the view would only depress me further. What I found shocked me. My suite did not look out on Central Park after all. This entire time, I had been living in the ship’s Disneyland, Surfside, the neighborhood full of screaming toddlers consuming milkshakes and candy. And as I leaned out over my balcony, I beheld a slight vista of the sea and surf that I thought I had been missing. It had been there all along. The sea was frothy and infinite and blue-green beneath the span of a seagull’s wing. And though it had been trod hard by the world’s largest cruise ship, it remained.

This article appears in the May 2024 print edition with the headline “A Meatball at Sea.” When you buy a book using a link on this page, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.

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Cruise ships set sail out of Port of Baltimore for the 1st time since bridge collapse

BALTIMORE -- Two cruise ships set sail for the sea from Baltimore this weekend for the first time since the Francis Scott Key Bridge collapsed.

Royal Caribbean's Vision of the Sea left Baltimore on Saturday for a five-night voyage to Bermuda, according to Port of Baltimore Director Jonathan Daniels.

"Cruising is back at the Port of Baltimore," Daniels said in a video posted on X from the Port of Baltimore account.

Carnival Cruise's Pride followed suit on Sunday when the ship headed off for a 14-day voyage to Greenland and Canada.

"Just a week ago, this terminal was being used as an incident command post. In one week, it's been transformed back to starting out that guest experience," Daniels announced in the video, as tropical cruise music played in the background, "The Port of Baltimore is back, cruising is back. It's absolutely great to be able to welcome everybody here."

In a news release posted on the state's website Tuesday, the Port of Baltimore administration had said, "The Port of Baltimore's permanent 700-foot wide, 50-foot-deep channel is expected to be reopened by the end of May."

The Port of Baltimore was temporarily blocked following the March 26 collapse of the Francis Scott Key Bridge. The 1.6-mile structure fell after the 213-million-pound cargo ship Dali collided with the bridge and struck one of its crucial support columns.

In 2023, 444,000 passengers departed on cruises from the Port of Baltimore. The Port supports 15,330 direct jobs and 139,180 jobs in Maryland, according to the state's website. The cruise industry adds $63 million to Maryland's economy, the website notes.

(The-CNN-Wire & 2024 Cable News Network, Inc., a Time Warner Company. All rights reserved.)

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Officials begin investigation after cruise ship arrives at harbor with endangered whale corpse across bow: 'We are deeply saddened'

The arrival of a cruise ship in New York led to an investigation after authorities spotted an endangered whale across its bow. 

What happened?

The Associated Press reported that the Meraviglia, a ship owned by Swiss-Italian line MSC Cruises, pulled into the Port of Brooklyn on May 5 with a dead 44-foot sei whale across its bow, according to National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration fisheries spokesperson Andrea Gomez.

"We immediately notified the relevant authorities, who are now conducting an examination of the whale," cruise line officials said in a statement. "We are deeply saddened by the loss of any marine life." 

Gomez told the AP that officials transferred the whale to Sandy Hook, New Jersey, and performed an autopsy on May 7. The results have not yet been revealed.  

Why is this concerning?

According to NOAA Fisheries , vessel strikes and net entanglement are now the biggest threats to sei whales after the International Whaling Commission issued an edict to halt commercial whaling practices in the 1980s. 

Rising global temperatures may be playing an interconnected part. The organization notes that sea traffic is expected to increase as new routes open because of melting sea ice . Additional noise pollution can also impact the ability of certain marine species to navigate their habitats. 

Watch now: What would Alex Honnold do as dictator for a day?

As for the nets, "hundreds of millions of marine animals" are killed or hurt every year by these nonbiodegradable entities, as detailed by Plastic Soup Foundation. 

Many modern fishing nets contain plastic, a material overwhelmingly made from dirty fuels, like motor oil and gasoline . These nets then leach toxins into our environment. 

One investigation found that a group of stranded marine mammals had high levels of PCBs, a now-banned harmful chemical that used to be used in many plastics . 

Should cities be allowed to ban cruise ships from visiting their ports?

That's not to mention the 12.1 million tons of plastics that enter our oceans, per the Ocean Conservancy. Other animals have starved from the inside out after ingesting the material . 

While it's unclear if the whale was alive before ending up on the ship's bow, its death is an unfortunate reminder of how our activities can negatively impact other creatures — and ultimately contribute to a less healthy planet for everyone who calls Earth home. 

What can be done about this? 

The AP notes that sei whales are an internationally protected species, and officials with MSC Cruises indicated that they adhere to all regulations intended to protect whales, including altering routes as needed to avoid collisions. 

If a collision was indeed a factor in the whale's death, authorities will likely study the data and formulate a plan to limit the possibility of this happening again. 

As far as plastic nets are concerned, some governments have already banned bottom trawling , a practice that can result in broken and abandoned gear.

You can help keep our planet and oceans healthy by participating in local cleanup efforts and swapping single-use plastic products, like grocery bags and razors , for reusable items made from less toxic and more durable materials.  

Join our free newsletter for cool news and cool tips that make it easy to help yourself while helping the planet.

Officials begin investigation after cruise ship arrives at harbor with endangered whale corpse across bow: 'We are deeply saddened' first appeared on The Cool Down .