Confessions of a Disney cruise newbie
Travel veteran discovers plenty of fun, and Mickeys, for the kids and quiet time for mom and dad
Even before we left the dock in Miami, I started to get the feeling that our “Four-Night Bahamian Cruise” on the Disney Magic was not going to go as smoothly as I had expected.
The soft-serve machines near Goofy’s Pool had run out of ice cream.
I asked a uniformed crew member when we could expect the machines to be refilled. Slightly alarmed, she told me she would look into it.
While sipping a horribly cloying margarita, I broke the bad news to Anna, my 5-year-old daughter.
A confession: I have been a travel editor for nearly a decade and yet this was my first cruise. I also haven’t been to a Disney property since my age was in the single digits. Neither thing, frankly, had ever seemed like my bag, but with my wife, Nancy, and I beaten down by a stretch of brutally cold weather in New York, and Anna increasingly Disney-obsessed, the time felt . . . if not right, then inevitable.
Alot of people go on these cruises every year — a Disney spokesperson wouldn’t tell me how many, but given the fleet has four large ships (and three more on the nautical horizon) with more than 250 total launches per year, a number in the hundreds of thousands is a fair estimate — including plenty of repeat customers (members of the Castaway Club, in Disney parlance). What was I missing? To try to find out, I paid $2,862.79 (U.S.) — for two adults and a child, as well as a “vacation protection plan,” taxes, fees and port expenses; we would end up spending another $1,500 for booze, onboard incidentals and activities — and booked the trip.
My relationship with Disney has always been a little fraught. I adore the movies. With Pixar, Marvel and the Muppets now under the Disney umbrella, I could probably list two dozen of them that we as a family love and watch regularly. But the company’s ubiquity can also be unnerving. And that’s just in general culture; once you board the ship, it is — fairly, I suppose — all Disney all the time.
Activities were legion. I had signed up for some in advance. (Not-at-all-pro tips: Sign up early and preregister your children at the Disney Cruise website — many events book up quickly. And download the Disney Cruise app before you leave — it’s how you will communicate with family members.) Other activities were noted on a daily schedule dropped off at our Deluxe Oceanview Stateroom With Verandah.
For dinner, here are two seatings nightly, and you are directed to one of four restaurants around the ship, the idea being that you get to try each one. I can’t say that I was thrilled that my daughter was constantly being called “Princess,” but each crew member seemed genuinely enthusiastic and pleased to be on the ship, down to the person passing out sanitizing wipes to every passenger entering a restaurant.
Mickey, it should be said, was everywhere, which I found sort of sweet — in an age of princesses, the nonagenarian mouse has still got it: He was branded on the giant smokestacks that top the ship and on the toiletries in our tiny bathroom. Three blobs of ketchup poured on Anna’s plate at dinner took the form of his head. I half-expected to come across coral in that shape when I went snorkeling the next day at Castaway Cay, Disney’s private Bahamian island.
Our last full day on the Magic was our most promising. It was Castaway Cay day — a full day to spend on Disney’s private island. We had bought a package that included snorkeling gear, bike rentals and a big floatie ring for our daughter.
But I had also booked something in advance: an appointment for Anna at Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique for a $200 princess makeover — at 11:15, right in the middle of our day meant to be spent off the ship. And afterward, she’d be covered in princess . . . stuff. Perfect for sun and swimming!
I met Anna and Nancy at the boutique. Anna had chosen Ariel as her makeover of choice. Although Anna’s “fairy godmother” (the British woman who would do her hair and makeup) urged her to allow the “king” to stay, I was banished. After a while, we all met up; Anna was in her dress, her hair done up in a (fake) bun, tiara and sparkles, makeup on her face, wielding a light-up wand. She was utterly delighted — and I was delighted with her delight.
After some time walking around the ship with Anna, Nancy gently suggested we head down to the beach.
“The problem with being a princess,” Nancy began to say, but Anna finished her sentence: “Is that you can’t do anything!” Like, say, swimming in crystalclear Bahamian waters.
So, Anna’s dress and makeup removed, we headed to Castaway Cay, where we had lunch and camped out on the immaculate beach.
That night we had dinner at Palo, the adults-only restaurant. We dropped Anna off at the Oceaneer Club and went. Like Keys, it was a simulacrum, although of a nice Italian restaurant.
We took a brief but romantic walk around the promenade deck and stared off into the blackness of a vast ocean, interrupted only by another cruise ship that glowed miles off in the distance. I thought about the people on that ship, and the ones on the decks below us. I wondered if they were starting to have a good time too.