It’s 3 in the afternoon aboard the Jolly Roger, a pseudo pirate ship transporting rum-punch-fueled revelers back to port following an afternoon of swimming and snorkeling.
As a solo traveler, I was told this was the party boat, the ultimate port excursion, an afternoon I would always remember long after the tan fades from my seven-night Caribbean cruise.
So here I am surrounded by SPF-ed and sun-scorched bodies, half of which are wiggling along in a conga line. The other half I’ve been quietly watching from a perch near a small cannon at the stern of the boat. They are cajoling everyone to participate in an impromptu limbo contest. I’m their target at this moment. And rather than firing up the cannon to dispel their advances, I work my way under the makeshift limbo bar.
Speakers are blasting Buster Poindexter’s “Hot, Hot, Hot” and soon the limbo organizers have decided that the dance of the moment is the shimmy.
“Oh-lay, oh-lay, oh-lay, oh-lay,” they chant as they shimmy. Those standing nearby shimmy. The guy piloting the pirate ship shimmies. The bartenders shimmy. I shimmy.
The shoulder-shaking shimmy, it seems, is the movement of choice in the Caribbean, particularly on such party-boat excursions as the Jolly Roger. It’s also quite popular on cruise ships, those massive hotels-at-sea filled with folks looking for sun and fun.
I am cruising aboard Royal Caribbean Cruise Line’s megaship, the 2,354-passenger Monarch of the Seas. I’ve been urged to shimmy at the Bon Voyage Party, on the sun deck, in aerobics class and in the Ain’t Misbehavin’ Lounge. Why we even have the world’s premier shimmy artist on board-but more about that later.
First off, to cruise the Caribbean one need not shimmy. Ever. But it helps to have a sense of humor and to be outgoing if you plan to cruise solo.
Which is just what I’m doing, though I’m wondering why I agreed to do so, particularly since this Caribbean cruise has not been billed as a singles cruise. It’s definitely no love boat, in the boy-meets-girl-on-the-promenade-deck sense. Instead, there are more than 2,000 people who love to cruise, love to visit lots of ports, love to shop, love to eat. (Oh yes, and there are a lot of people who love to . . . let’s just say there are more than 120 honeymoon couples on board this week.)
Those traveling alone on this cruise-without spouses, friends or family-are a minority. Which means that tracking down someone who shares your energy level, shopping or touring style and interest in sunshine can be a bit daunting. In fact, the first couple of days are kind of uncomfortable: The regulars have yet to show up regularly at aerobics class, the honeymoon couples are still in the first blush of marriage and the families are all still moving about as a unit. By midweek, things change, though, with kids off on their own, honeymooners interested in meeting others and shoppers doing just that, with or without spouse in attendance. The camaraderie level increases appreciably.
Sunday, Day 1:
Chicago to San Juan
A lot of women on board the afternoon American Airlines flight out of O’Hare International Airport for San Juan are sporting French manicures and sparkling wedding rings. Many of them will join us when we embark from San Juan on a seven-night Caribbean cruise. Samantha and Scott Ahlart of Santa Cruz, Calif., will be there. They were married less than 24 hours earlier and are pumped for this trip, armed with advice from friends and a poodle skirt Sam has packed for the ’50s-’60s night.
I did not pack a poodle skirt, opting instead for several varieties of earplugs. I am traveling on RCCL’s Special Share program, one of several such programs designed by the cruise industry for solo travelers. With Special Share, you pay less than the guaranteed single occupancy and take your chances on getting someone you’ve never met for a roommate-or no one at all. Before leaving, I heard pros and cons and horror stories about taking pot luck on roommates.
In San Juan, on a bus bound for the ship, there are almost no single people. Josephine, who settles herself in the seat next to mine, informs me she’s traveling alone but is meeting up with a crowd of friends from Philadelphia, and says with a bit of disbelief: “You’re traveling alone?” I mumble an uh-huh and decide to change the subject. At the pier, the ship’s photographer snaps a photo of me with a cruise ship poster. Families and couples are lined up behind me. It is the first of many photo ops reminding me I’m traveling alone.
I survey the cabin, a long, narrow room, beds butting each other, a miniature bathroom, a television. Hmmm, not much space for two strangers. I squeeze in a quick prayer: Lord, please don’t give me a roommate. It’s 8:45 p.m.; the ship is to sail at 10. When Cabin Steward Rogelio Richards arrives and says no one else is scheduled for the room, I wink a thanks.
Richards says there’s still time for dinner, so it’s off to the Brigadoon Dining Room, where I meet my assigned dining companions for the cruise: a father and his sons from Santiago, Chile (Samuel Correa with Matias and Nicholas Bernales), plus honeymooners John and Rose Nitafan Gonzalez from Lakewood, Calif. The table is pretty quiet and, I soon find out, for a pretty good reason: The Chilean family doesn’t speak English; the Gonzalezes don’t speak Spanish. Despite the surname, I speak English pretty well and Spanish passably-enough at least to get the table through introductions, the menu and some idle chatter.
A surprising number of cruise passengers speak Spanish. There’s also a surprising number of people attending a gathering of Shaklee International-which accounts for the display of nutritional supplements one morning in the Windjammer Cafe.
By 11 p.m., the cruise staff and a calypso band are working a crowd into a dance frenzy with that Buster Poindexter opus, which has the crowd swaying and singing: Oh-lay, Oh-lay, Oh-lay, Oh-lay. It is, the cruise crew quips, the Caribbean National Anthem. We will hear it every day, several times a day, for the next week.
Monday, Day 2:
At sea
I turn on the television. The day’s agenda is scrolling on the screen as Frank Sinatra croons “Saturday Night (Is the Loneliest Night in the Week).” I switch channels to RCCL’s very own: They’re airing a mix of videos taken on board at all the fun parties you can go to this week: A ’50s party with Hula-Hoops, wacky pool games with bananas and lots of giddy people intoxicated by all the sea air and sunshine. Things are looking up . . . until the promotion for the singles party. There are no bright smiling faces. Instead, there’s a still cartoon of two stick figures-male and female-smiling at each other then wandering off together, a background voice rattling off the singles party particulars. Not promising.
I head off to investigate the ship-its two formal dining rooms (Brigadoon and Flower Drum Song) and Windjammer Cafe, four lounges (Sound of Music, April in Paris, Dancin’ and Viking Crown), two nightclubs (Ain’t Misbehavin’ and Teen) and four bars. There’s a five-story brass-and-glass atrium that reminds me of Water Tower Place, the Casino Royale, a sauna, fitness center, beauty salon (I join the lineup to book a manicure), two pools, children’s room . . .
In the Sound of Music Lounge, cruise director Jeff Martin is playing to a packed house. He introduces the “Monarch of the Seas’ own home shopping network,” Lisa Vecchi. Actually, Lisa’s the port lecturer who clues us in on beaches, sightseeing and shopping at each port of call-and to hear her tell it, life in the Caribbean rolls along on wheels made of silver dollars.
“When shopping for gems, remember REDS,” says Lisa, breathlessly, “Rubies, emeralds, diamonds and sapphires.”
Or: “Think of St. Thomas as linen, liquor and loose jewels,” she quips. Lisa and her proverbs are repeated again and again on our in-cabin television.
But I’m here to meet people, not shop. So on the way to a Complimentary Dance class, I pass through the “Honeymooners’ Party” in the Dancin’ Lounge. (“So you carried her over the threshold. How romantic,” coos one of the cruise crew, to the hoots of the gathered freshly married.)
The dance class is in the April in Paris Lounge, so Gene Kelly comes to mind. In reality, we get cruise man James Bright, who’s really excited about teaching us the waltz and merengue.
A few hours later, in the receiving line for the Captain’s Welcome Aboard Cocktail Party in the Dancin’ Lounge, one of the cruise staff pointedly asks me: “Could we get wives on the right?” I mention the error of her ways and head into a massive lounge loaded with tables-none with singles-though soon I’m joined by Bruce and Caryn Frank of Scottsdale, who are celebrating his birthday.
We meet again after dinner in the classy Champagne Bar, for a bit of bubbly and chocolate-dipped strawberries, before heading toward the evening’s entertainment in the Sound of Music Lounge.
It’s the Wave Revue presentation of “Ladies Take a Bow.” There are great expectations. Why, Lauren Bacall christened this ship before its maiden voyage in November 1991. And there’s a high glitz factor, with all sorts of special effects, plus a lineup of great songs from Broadway shows (“The Unsinkable Molly Brown,” “Sweet Charity” and “Hello, Dolly!”). Then, as a segue from the Broadway segment to the hip segment (“Simply Irresistible” and “Vogue”), two women in sequined dresses belt out “You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby.” Behind them, a bank of video screens flashes with black-and-white images of Katharine Hepburn, Margaret Thatcher, Mother Teresa and Golda Meir.
“I’d say the show lacks continuity,” deadpans Bruce, of the faux Vegas show.
I agree and depart for the Singles Get Together in the Ain’t Misbehavin’ Lounge. The crowd is in the midst of an extended version of a line dance, the Electric Slide. You don’t need a partner and if you miss a couple of steps, no one’s going to notice. I think. I give it a try. I also get off the dance floor when the emcee announces a game. It’s sort of a musical males, with men in a circle and women in a circle around them. When the music starts, the circles move in opposite directions. When the music stops, each woman grabs a man. “Come on folks,” the emcee urges. “There are only six more days to find someone.”
He doesn’t quote numbers, of course. Nor does anyone seem to have exact figures on the number of solo travelers on this cruise. A quick head count of the solos photographed as they boarded the ship comes up with less than 50 on a ship of more than 2,000. Maybe we’re all just camera shy.
