17 Days Until Bacon at Sea

Seventeen days until the Radiance of the Seas sets sail from Tampa—and then it’s four nights of cruising, with a day at sea, a stop in Cozumel, another day at sea, and back to Tampa.

Or maybe it’s really 16 days until I’m onboard, and 17 until the ship departs. Either way, the countdown is on!

This might be my ninth cruise, give or take, and I already know what I’m looking forward to: good coffee, people-watching, and relaxing on the balcony at night with the water rolling by or the sky overhead.

Oh, and bacon. Definitely bacon. Breakfast bacon, snack bacon, “I’m on vacation” bacon. I think you get the idea.

The internet and non-alcoholic beverage package are paid for, the balcony is booked, and I’m ready to go.

33 Days to Go: Buying Peace, Quiet, and Sparkling Water

The cruise countdown now says 33 days to go.

On October 29, I’ll board Radiance of the Seas for four nights in the Western Caribbean. Between now and then, I need to finalize a few important details.

How am I getting to Tampa? Undecided.

What will I be drinking with dinner? Already planned.

Some people organize transportation first. I apparently work backward from the Pellegrino.

In a few days, I’m planning to purchase two add-ons: The Key and the Refreshment Package. For the way I like to cruise, I think both are worth the money.

I’ve reached the stage of vacation planning where I’m willing to pay for fewer things to think about. My brain has requested shore leave.

The Key comes with several benefits, including:

• Priority terminal access during the designated arrival window.

• Carry-on bag drop-off and delivery to the cabin.

• An exclusive welcome lunch in the Main Dining Room.

• Fast-lane access at select onboard activities and priority ship-to-shore departure at tender ports.

• Dedicated seating at shows.

• VOOM internet for one device per guest with The Key.

• An exclusive à la carte breakfast and choice departure on debarkation day.

There are also select dining, sports, and spa discounts, with conditions attached. Benefits vary by ship and sailing, so I’ll check the details for mine before purchasing. Royal Caribbean’s current benefits

All very nice. But what gets my attention is sitting down for lunch on embarkation day.

I want to board, take a seat, and have someone hand me a menu. I do not want to begin my vacation balancing a plate while searching for a table like I’m scouting real estate in a highly competitive market.

“Lovely location near the windows. Unfortunately, another family has already made an offer with three backpacks and a cardigan.”

The buffet has its place. I will almost certainly visit it. But on boarding day, when everyone arrives hungry and towing their belongings, I prefer a lunch that doesn’t require evasive maneuvers.

The same goes for the sit-down breakfast on debarkation day.

Leaving the ship is disappointing enough. I don’t need to combine that disappointment with a crowded buffet, luggage, and a hunt for somewhere to put my eggs.

Let me have a calm breakfast before returning to a world where nobody makes my bed or asks whether I’d like another pastry.

The internet, priority access, and other benefits are welcome extras. My main interest is starting and ending the cruise seated comfortably, with food arriving at my table.

Apparently, my idea of VIP treatment is being allowed to chew in peace.

Then there’s the Refreshment Package, which covers drinks such as fountain soda, bottled still and sparkling water, premium coffees and teas, fresh-squeezed juices, and mocktails. Royal Caribbean’s package details

My personal beverage itinerary is already taking shape: San Pellegrino at dinner, possibly lunch, Coke Zero, and a decaf Americano at breakfast and after dinner, subject to what’s available onboard.

Yes, decaf.

I want the coffee experience without lying awake at midnight mentally reorganizing my garage.

Pellegrino makes dinner feel a little more special. It’s water with bubbles and enough confidence to arrive in a nice bottle. I respect that.

And Coke Zero remains a dependable travel companion. No complicated preferences. No disagreements over excursions. Just show up cold.

What I really like about the package is being able to order an included drink without mentally adding it to a running total. I don’t want every dinner to come with a small accounting assignment.

“Would I enjoy another sparkling water?”

That should be a question about thirst, not the opening meeting of the budget committee.

For me, the value is in both the drinks and the convenience. I’m paying ahead so I can spend less time thinking about individual beverage charges and more time staring at the ocean with absolutely nothing useful happening in my head.

Meanwhile, driving versus flying remains unresolved.

The options still involve roughly seven hours in the car or a 5 a.m. flight from Charleston that reaches Tampa via Miami. One requires highway patience. The other requires being dressed and functional at an hour when even my bad decisions are usually asleep.

I can confidently select my after-dinner coffee 33 days in advance, but choosing how to reach the ship apparently requires further deliberation.

And for anyone following the other ongoing search: no future ex-wife has been announced.

The Key offers quite a few benefits, but matchmaking does not appear to be one of them.

So that’s where things stand: two add-ons planned, beverages selected, transportation pending.

I may not know how I’m getting to Tampa, but once I’m onboard, I intend to be seated, hydrated, and very difficult to hurry.

41 Days Until Cruise Time: Checked In Emotionally, Still Single Officially

Royal Caribbean has informed me that my cruise is 41 days away and online check-in is available.

Finally, a relationship moving forward.

There it is on my screen: four nights in the Western Caribbean aboard Radiance of the Seas, October 29 through November 2. A balcony cabin on Deck 9. And under “Guests,” a little circle containing my initials: NF.

Naturally Fabulous.

No Fiancée.

Negotiations Failed.

Interpret that however you like.

Last time I checked, the countdown said 50 days. Now it says 41. Nine days have passed, and I’m pleased to report that my vacation planning has progressed from staring at the reservation on my phone to staring at it on a larger screen.

That’s called taking a broader view.

The website offers two buttons: “Plan my cruise” and “Manage reservation.”

I appreciate the confidence. I’m still trying to manage what’s in my refrigerator, but apparently I’m qualified to coordinate an international maritime adventure.

At least the cabin decision is settled: a balcony on Deck 9.

This gives me a private place to drink coffee, watch the ocean, and gaze thoughtfully into the distance as if I’m contemplating something deeper than whether breakfast is still being served.

A balcony also provides the perfect setting for romance. Ocean breeze. Beautiful sunsets. Two people sharing a quiet moment.

Currently, the second person is a chair.

We’re taking things slowly.

Yes, the search for my future ex-wife continues. I’ve secured the scenery, arranged the accommodations, and selected a departure date. At this point, I feel I’ve done more than my share of the relationship planning.

Ideal candidates should enjoy travel, appreciate sarcasm, and understand that “Would you like dessert?” is a logistical question about which dessert, not whether we’re having any.

Meanwhile, I still have the transportation puzzle: a 5 a.m. flight from Charleston to Tampa through Miami, or about seven hours of driving.

The flight requires leaving home around 3:30 a.m., when the only thing I want to connect with is my pillow.

And Miami? I’m trying to get to Tampa. The airline apparently thinks I should preview the rest of Florida first.

Driving remains tempting. I get my own seat, unrestricted access to snacks, and no possibility of my suitcase deciding to spend the weekend somewhere more interesting than I do.

I haven’t made the final call yet. Fortunately, I have 41 days to revisit the same calculations and arrive at the same level of uncertainty.

As for Radiance, yes, she’s an older ship. So what? I’m increasingly fond of things with a little mileage that still know how to have a good time.

I don’t need my ship to be the newest thing afloat. I need a comfortable bed, good food, an ocean view, and a schedule where “do absolutely nothing” is a legitimate afternoon activity.

This cruise also includes Halloween, which opens up some costume possibilities.

I could go as a well-rested man.

Or someone who packed appropriately.

Or a guy whose future ex-wife actually showed up.

Some costumes require more imagination than others.

After this, there’s MSC in January and Utopia of the Seas out of Port Canaveral in April. My calendar has a healthy social life. I’m hoping to catch up with it eventually.

For now, the countdown continues. The balcony is booked. Online check-in is open.

And Royal Caribbean keeps asking me to manage my reservation when, frankly, finding someone to occupy the other balcony chair would be a much more impressive service.

Forty-one days to go. Future ex-wife applications remain open. Please include availability, snack preferences, and your position on unnecessary layovers.

50 Days Until Paradise. Travel Companion Position Still Open.

My cruise app tells me I set sail in 50 days, 9 hours, 34 minutes, and 44 seconds.

I appreciate the precision. Apparently, Royal Caribbean knows exactly when my vacation begins, while I’m still trying to figure out how to get to Tampa without needing a vacation from getting to Tampa.

I’m booked on Radiance of the Seas for a four-night Western Caribbean cruise, October 29 through November 2. Four nights of ocean views, someone else making dinner, and pretending that walking to the buffet counts as a fitness program.

First, however, there’s the transportation situation.

My flight leaves Charleston at 5 a.m. and goes to Tampa through Miami. Because apparently, to get to the vacation, I must first fly past the vacation and circle back after the airline has had time to think about it.

To make that flight, I figure I’d leave home at 3:30 a.m., arrive at the airport around 4, and give myself an hour before departure.

That’s my current calculation, anyway. It assumes security cooperates and I can operate pants at 3 in the morning.

A 5 a.m. flight isn’t an early flight. It’s an overnight emergency you paid for.

Meanwhile, driving to Tampa takes about seven hours. By the time I add the airport trip, security, boarding, flying south, sitting in Miami questioning my choices, and flying back north, I could practically be there in my own car.

In the car, I control the temperature. My luggage travels with me. And if there’s a delay, I can usually identify the cause: I stopped for snacks and accidentally bought lunch, fudge, and a decorative item.

Yes, driving involves traffic. But flying involves traffic too—only someone announces it over a speaker while I sit strapped to furniture.

So I’m leaning toward driving, preferably heading down the day before. Give me a reasonable buffer, a hotel bed, and a departure time that doesn’t require negotiating with the undead.

Then there’s the ship.

Radiance is an older ship, which is fine. I’m not exactly a fresh delivery from the shipyard myself. At this stage, I respect anything that still travels well and has functioning air-conditioning.

I’ve also learned Tampa has limits on the size of cruise ships it can accommodate. Relatable. I can no longer accommodate certain things either, including drama and dinner reservations after 8:30.

Besides, I have an MSC cruise in January and Utopia of the Seas out of Port Canaveral in April. My vacation calendar is developing nicely.

My romantic calendar remains a blank document with excellent formatting.

The reservation currently says “1 Adult.”

A little judgmental, Royal Caribbean. You could have written “Independent Traveler.” “Man of Mystery.” “Still Accepting Applications.”

But no. 1 Adult.

And even that feels like an optimistic assessment of someone considering seven hours behind the wheel to avoid waking up early for a flight.

There is, as yet, no future ex-wife joining me. The position remains open. Ideal qualifications include a sense of humor, enthusiasm for cruising, and the ability to say, “Let’s just drive,” before I spend three evenings comparing transportation options.

Until then, I have a cabin, a countdown, and several vacations booked.

Love may be unpredictable, but at least my next relationship with a buffet has a confirmed start date.