This is the title of an essay written by David Foster Wallace (1962-2008) about his week on a cruise ship. I have not read this essay but I read an obituary in New York magazine for the late author of Infinite Jest that mentioned it and I instantly agreed with the title in relation to the topic.
I've been on four cruise vacations in my 25 years. Two with my immediate family, one with a school trip, and one with a family reunion of 30. And all I can say is reiterate the title of DFW's essay.
Cruises have mass appeal because the ships are each supposed to be a hotel/resort/spa/casino/shopping mall/tourist center all in one. But seriously: does all that fit on a ship? If you're having trouble picturing it - the answer is no. And guess what get's compromised so that you can have an all in one luxury vacation: Yup that would be, the space between where you sleep and the ceiling, the size of the pool (can we say kiddy pool?), the bar stools, the space between my yoga mat and yours, the space in my stomach between meals and the serenity of dining with the people you decided to cruise with.
Yes, there are an average of 10 square meals available per day but when you're experiencing an underlying sensation of nausea (famously dubbed "dizzy times" by the cleverly hilarious Liv) every time you stand up because you're ON A BOAT you're not exactly taking advantage of the midnight buffet. It's the perfect scam. Yeah sure, we invite you to eat a 9 course dinner and then go snack on finger foods on the Lido deck with your watery margarita but make sure you spend at least 45 minutes on the toilet in between.
The decor on cruise ships contributes to the sea sickness. Who decided that every cruise ship has to have that geometrically patterned disco-era purple, blue, yellow, orange carpeting on the walls as well as the floor on at least 8 decks out of 12? It's almost like they're forcing you out of your "cabin" where the tide is felt more intensely with every descending floor and up to the casino and bar decks where the glaring dance floor is slightly more digestible than the magic eye wall carpet.
The only trip out of my 4 cruise experiences that I would actually recommend is the one that included a Farah family reunion with 30 family members from 3 generations. And that is not because we went on a bigger ship with a realistically sized pool or more spacious accomodations where you can actually stand up and blow dry your hair before the ship's "formal night". Nope....all the cheesy magicians and bingo games were still present at ultimate highs but being with 30 instead of 5 people I knew was kind of like being at Skidmore because everywhere you go, you see someone you partied with last night.
Whenever I was pacing the decks wondering why I didn't feel more vacationy or racking up a tab at the rainbow room I would run into someone I knew. I could stop and chat with my great uncle George, peruse pashminas with my sister, or glimpse my cousin leading his bandit of unsupervised cruise kids on to their next deed of mischief. This provided for a diverse array of cruise ship experiences that enabled me to see the cruise vacation farce for what it was - a watered down resort where you are perpetually squished, sick, and stuffed. But if you've got a variety of kooky relatives onboard you'll just laugh about how you cannot escape the supposedly fun thing you'll never do again.
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