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.
Automatic Gratuities? Not on My Next Cruise.
I have a Royal Caribbean cruise planned, paid for, and waiting for me.
On Thursday, October 29, 2026, I’ll board Radiance of the Seas in Tampa. Then it’s a day at sea, a stop in Cozumel, Mexico, another glorious day at sea, and back to Tampa on Monday, November 2.
I love cruising. I love being on the water. I love eating an irresponsible amount of bacon. And I absolutely love people watching.
Put me on a ship with the ocean, bacon, Coke Zero, and a few thousand strangers making questionable vacation decisions, and I'm entertained.
But lately, I've been watching a lot of cruise videos about one surprisingly polarizing subject:
Automatic gratuities.
And I think I've changed my mind about them.
What Exactly Is a Gratuity?
If you haven't cruised before, you pay a cruise fare that includes your cabin, most meals, some beverages, entertainment, and plenty of other things.
Of course, there are upcharges. Want a specialty restaurant? Pay extra. Want a fancy coffee? Pay extra. Want alcohol? Definitely pay extra.
Then there are gratuities.
On my first Royal Caribbean cruise, tipping worked very differently.
Toward the end of the cruise, we were given envelopes. The daily newsletter provided guidance on suggested tip amounts, and passengers put cash into the envelopes and personally handed them to the people who had provided service during the cruise.
Your room attendant.
Your waiter.
Assistant waiter.
Maitre d'.
It was direct. Someone provided you with great service, and you tipped them.
At some point, that system largely disappeared, and automatic gratuities became the norm.
Buy a drink at a bar or by the pool, and an 18% gratuity is already added to the price. You can add even more if you'd like.
Then there's the separate daily automatic gratuity charged to passengers.
The explanation makes some sense: the money isn't just for the employees you see. It's also distributed to people working behind the scenes who contribute to your vacation.
Laundry.
Maintenance.
Food preparation.
Other crew members you may never meet.
These people absolutely contribute to the cruise experience.
But there's one word I keep coming back to:
Gratuity.
I asked The Google for a definition, and it gave me this:
A gratuity is an extra amount of money given to a person who provides a service.
Extra
.
That word matters.
A Video Changed My Thinking
I recently watched a video from an avid cruiser who said he was going to stop adding automatic gratuities.
My initial reaction was basically, Ehhhhhh...
I've actually defended automatic gratuities before.
My normal practice has been to leave the automatic gratuities in place and then tip additional cash to crew members who provide me with great service.
That includes room attendants, servers, bartenders, and even crew members working in the buffet.
If someone takes care of me, I believe in taking care of them.
I'm not looking for an excuse to save a few bucks at the expense of the people working incredibly hard on a cruise ship.
But the cruiser in the video made a point that stuck with me:
Why is it the passenger's responsibility to supplement the compensation of back-of-house employees through something called a gratuity?
And that's where my thinking changed.
Pay Your Employees
If a cruise line needs a certain amount of money per passenger to properly compensate laundry workers, maintenance employees, kitchen staff and other behind-the-scenes crew members, then build that amount into the cruise fare.
Charge me what it actually costs.
Be transparent.
If the cruise needs to cost another $100, $150, or $200 for the company to compensate its employees properly, please include it in the advertised price.
I can then decide whether that cruise is worth that price.
What concerns me is treating what is traditionally understood as a service tip as part of the company's labor cost structure.
I have absolutely no problem with a company making a profit.
Royal Caribbean is a business, not a floating nonprofit with a waterslide.
Make money.
Make lots of money.
Build another gigantic ship with 47 restaurants, 19 pools, and a zip line directly through a Starbucks for all I care.
It's how the money is collected that I'm questioning.
If the automatic gratuity is necessary to compensate employees properly, is it really a gratuity anymore?
Or is it simply part of the cruise fare with a different name?
So I'm Trying Something Different
When I board Radiance of the Seas on October 29, I'm changing my normal routine.
At some point during the cruise, I'm going to go to Guest Services, stand in line—not in line, because I am a New Yorker—and ask to have the automatic gratuities removed.
But I'm not going to stop tipping.
Quite the opposite.
I'm going to bring a bunch of cash.
When someone provides great service, I'm going to tip them directly.
Room attendant? Cash.
Great waiter? Cash.
Bartender? Cash.
Someone at the buffet goes out of their way to help me? Cash.
If you're taking care of me while I'm wandering around a ship eating bacon and staring at the ocean, I want you to know that I appreciated what you did.
The people working behind the scenes deserve to be compensated fairly, too.
I believe their employer should be responsible for making sure that happens.
Maybe It's Time for More Passengers to Question It
I'm curious what other cruisers think about this because I've discovered this topic can get surprisingly heated.
Some passengers consider removing automatic gratuities practically a declaration of war against the crew.
Others argue that cruise lines have successfully shifted responsibility for employee compensation onto passengers while continuing to advertise lower base fares.
I'm moving toward the second camp.
I'll gladly tip.
I'll gladly reward great service.
I'll probably tip more than I would have otherwise.
But I'd rather put the money directly into the hands of the people who made my vacation better and tell them:
Thank you.
And if the cruise line needs additional funds to compensate everyone else properly?
Put it in my fare.
Tell me what the cruise actually costs.
Then let a gratuity actually be a gratuity.
Now I need October 29 to get here.
There is an ocean, a cruise ship, and an unreasonable quantity of bacon waiting for me.