Part III: A Cavalcade of Characters and Comedies of Error
Beyond the sins and the emergencies, the social landscape of a cruise is defined by a vibrant cast of eccentric individuals, bizarre groups, and hilarious mishaps. These stories capture the surreal, carnivalesque atmosphere that can only be found when thousands of people decide to vacation together in a floating city.
The Conventions: Santas, Bears, and Sailor Moon
Sometimes, a cruise ship is transformed from a generic holiday vessel into a mobile haven for specific communities, creating surreal juxtapositions for the other passengers. One cruiser shared the experience of being on a ship with 800 members of the “Bear” community and 200 Red Hat Ladies. This unlikely combination led to memorable sightings, including a “bearded Dorthy and his hot pants clad winged monkey” heading to a costume party.
Another passenger found themselves on a “mall Santa convention” cruise, where approximately 100 Santas in Hawaiian shirts could be found in every bar, pool, and lounge on the ship. The dedication to a particular aesthetic can be an individual pursuit as well. On a typically conservative Holland America cruise, a 6-foot-tall passenger was seen daily in a full Sailor Moon getup, complete with different colored outfits for different days. This display of “don’t-give-a-fuck attitude” was met with admiration by fellow cruisers. These events turn the ship into a floating festival, a temporary utopia where niche subcultures can take center stage.
The Unforgettable Individuals
Cruises are also populated by unforgettable solo acts, individuals whose peculiar habits or incredible stories of resilience make them legends of the voyage. One couple was regularly seen in the main dining room with their two teddy bears, who were treated as honored guests with their own miniature chairs and a tiny table set upon the main table. Another passenger, a woman known for being a “pier runner” (someone who nearly misses the ship’s departure), was observed on multiple occasions faced with a choice: save her tube top/bikini top or her souvenir cocktail glass. She always chose the glass.
Perhaps the most astonishing story is that of a man who, on the first night of a cruise, suffered a massive seizure in the comedy club, turning blue and requiring emergency intervention from a medically trained fellow passenger. He was taken away, and his fate was unknown. Two days later, at a port stop in Mexico, the same passenger who helped save him saw the man at Señor Frog’s, “slamming drinks and slurping tequila” as if nothing had happened. He continued drinking for the rest of the week. These individuals embody the spirit of the vacation persona, where people either amplify their existing eccentricities or live out a new, consequence-free identity for the duration of the trip.
Comedies of Error and Misadventure
Much of the humor of cruise life arises from simple, slapstick mishaps—a loss of control over one’s body, environment, or a situation that spirals into absurdity. During a particularly rough sailing, a large passenger lost his balance just as the ship lurched. He was propelled out of his cabin door and flew horizontally across the corridor, acting as a human battering ram to smash through the door of the cabin opposite, much to the screaming surprise of its occupants.
A more private, but equally mortifying, comedy of errors befell a couple who, exhausted from days of partying, fell into their bed for a “nap.” They awoke to a ghastly scene: their bodies and the white bedsheets were smeared with what looked like the aftermath of “explosive human excrement.” To their immense relief, they discovered the source was not biological but confectionary. The steward had left a mound of mint chocolates on their pillows, which they had smashed and spread everywhere during their nap. After a hasty cleanup, they confessed to their steward, who burst out laughing. A similar, though less dramatic, incident involved a man waking up to find his face and pillow covered in chocolate from the single mint left for him, initially fearing he had soiled himself in his sleep.
These moments of lost control can be as simple as a drunk uncle repeatedly slapping himself in the face with a slice of pizza due to a lack of motor control , or a passenger being accidentally locked on their own balcony by a well-meaning steward, forcing them to shout to a neighbor for rescue. The humor in these stories comes from the stark contrast between the serene, controlled vacation promised in the brochures and the chaotic, unpredictable reality of life at sea.
