We are home from the Valiant Lady, our weeklong poker cruise now at an end. With Gary Shteyngart receiving heaps of praise for his (admittedly hilarious) new essay , I feel honor-bound to defend the cruise life from sophists such as he and his condescending coterie of sniggering elites.
One can imagine that the future incarnations of cruises—the inevitable space cruise—would have similar though more intense versions of the qualities and delights found on sea cruises. Everyone will feel much more vulnerable, leading to ship-wide goodwill and an openness to bonding previously known only to those who have partaken of shrooms in good company. Food not usually tolerated on land will taste divine, especially if served from a space buffet. Space waterslides, where one moves through zero gravity and artificial gravity sections, sound sublime, no matter how much floating urine smacks me in the face. Finally, space gambling will be the most superlative experience of all. The chance to lose it all on a ship that may end it all for me sounds like a moderate gambling addict's opium-infused pleasure dream.
I'm 41 years old now, and at 90 or so, I would happily take the chance of death by airlock failure or space debris collision to experience the ineffable joys of the space cruise.
While I don’t share your cruise love I admire your project here. GS’s late-piece mea culpa pretty much says why: “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 metaphor involving fish and a barrel also comes to mind.) I liked both pieces but yours skis a much tougher slope .
Entertaining read, as always. As a postscript, there is the surreal moment at the port when the cruise is done and you have to retrieve your luggage in a pile of suitcases in a cavernous warehouse, and you notice one set is marked with the name of the fun couple you made an ephemeral friendship with -- oh look, it's the Smiths! Why haven't they disembarked yet (and you think, did we leave too soon)? -- and realize you will never speak to them again except maybe once, because those friendships, too, are as temporary as the cruise euphoria. Then out into the harsh Florida sunshine where somehow a large group of now very rude people are desperately trying to find their Ubers so they can go back to their lives *right now*. Was I really just on a boat with these people and we all got along?
I’ve only had one vacation where I felt some of this and that was a stay on Great Diamond Island (formerly Pig Island!) in Portland, Maine’s Casco Bay. Now that we could afford a cruise if we wanted, though, I still can’t see doing it. I’ve only had norovirus once and am phobic about the prospect of ever getting it again. That said, this may be the first thing I’ve ever read that could make me reconsider.
Amazing ! My wife and I just returned from our first cruise yesterday. Well said !
Hilarious and all so very true
"The negatives pale, though, when compared to the positives." Really? Somehow I think you're being a great defense lawyer for a losing client.
One can imagine that the future incarnations of cruises—the inevitable space cruise—would have similar though more intense versions of the qualities and delights found on sea cruises. Everyone will feel much more vulnerable, leading to ship-wide goodwill and an openness to bonding previously known only to those who have partaken of shrooms in good company. Food not usually tolerated on land will taste divine, especially if served from a space buffet. Space waterslides, where one moves through zero gravity and artificial gravity sections, sound sublime, no matter how much floating urine smacks me in the face. Finally, space gambling will be the most superlative experience of all. The chance to lose it all on a ship that may end it all for me sounds like a moderate gambling addict's opium-infused pleasure dream.
I'm 41 years old now, and at 90 or so, I would happily take the chance of death by airlock failure or space debris collision to experience the ineffable joys of the space cruise.
May I suggest trying meditation? It’s free and you can do it anywhere.
Shteyngart’s essay isn’t as funny as everyone says. This is much funnier.
While I don’t share your cruise love I admire your project here. GS’s late-piece mea culpa pretty much says why: “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 metaphor involving fish and a barrel also comes to mind.) I liked both pieces but yours skis a much tougher slope .
Hysterical as always
Entertaining read, as always. As a postscript, there is the surreal moment at the port when the cruise is done and you have to retrieve your luggage in a pile of suitcases in a cavernous warehouse, and you notice one set is marked with the name of the fun couple you made an ephemeral friendship with -- oh look, it's the Smiths! Why haven't they disembarked yet (and you think, did we leave too soon)? -- and realize you will never speak to them again except maybe once, because those friendships, too, are as temporary as the cruise euphoria. Then out into the harsh Florida sunshine where somehow a large group of now very rude people are desperately trying to find their Ubers so they can go back to their lives *right now*. Was I really just on a boat with these people and we all got along?
This is EXACTLY how I feel about cruising! I’m aware of the negatives and criticism but it all falls away once I’m on board. Thanks for this!
I’ve only had one vacation where I felt some of this and that was a stay on Great Diamond Island (formerly Pig Island!) in Portland, Maine’s Casco Bay. Now that we could afford a cruise if we wanted, though, I still can’t see doing it. I’ve only had norovirus once and am phobic about the prospect of ever getting it again. That said, this may be the first thing I’ve ever read that could make me reconsider.
Literally never been tempted to go on a cruise until now