Last Minute Cruising: A Case Study

In a former life before my response “cruise” to the question, “what do you do for a living,” was generally met with equal parts confusion and resentment, I was a college professor teaching everyone’s favorite class: Statistics.  Where I was greeted each new semester by a room full of students, some in tears, “this class is going to kill me,” and some with a glare so stoney I wondered if someone had awakened them too early on a Saturday morning as part of a fraternity initiation that would also involve frozen underwear and immediately sealed their expression with decoupage glue. 

After reassuring them that no one has ever died of a regression, repression maybe, but never regression, (that joke got me hauled into the Provost’s office where I was reminded that I was teaching at a Catholic institution and that repression should not be discouraged), I moved on to a brief review of everyone’s second favorite class: Research Methods. 

Me: “who can tell me the difference between quantitative and qualitative research?   

Student: “numbers versus words.”

Me: “in a nutshell, yes.  And what are some strengths of each approach?

Students, in unison: “qualitative doesn’t involve any math!”

Me: “well at least not any complicated math, but it also provides rich, in-depth information about your research topic.  However, because the sample size is small, it can’t be generalized to a larger population. 

At this point, you’re probably wondering if any of this is germane to Cruising 101 or just another tangent you have to scroll through in order to find out how much the Go Carts cost on the Norwegian Bliss ($15 – stay tuned for my full review).

While admittedly long winded, it’s relevant because today’s lecture material comes from the results of a qualitative case study – a detailed account of one person’s experience (mine!) booking a last minute cruise.  While it may provide some useful insights and follows the plot structure for a best selling suspense novel, it shouldn’t be considered generalizable to all last minute cruise experiences. 

So with that…

Just Go Already!  Or How I Decided To Book A Last Minute Cruise

Here’s how I ended up booking a cruise at 3pm on a Saturday, leaving the next day.  Mr. Cruise, H (my teaching/travel assistant and son), and I were returning home from the beach when I looked up from my task – digging from between my ripe, pained toes an artisan blend of sand, seaweed, and a wax like substance similar in name to a condiment frequently paired with butter and spread on toast – just in time to see a sign for Pier 91, one of the two cruise ship terminals in Seattle. 

Predictably and, I’m told, annoyingly, I started whining about how if Mr. Cruise really loved me, he’d “hang a left and drop me off at the boat” and about how “I’m a Professor of Cruising – don’t deny me my livelihood” when, fed up, Mr. Cruise shouted, “just go already!”  And then, “seriously, H isn’t enrolled in any camps next week and I’m leaving town on Friday anyway.  Find a place for the dog and book the two of you on something for tomorrow.” 

I played coy at first, offering up a few weak excuses for why I couldn’t go, “I have a meeting on Tuesday” and “what if I can’t find someone for Henry?” but in my mind I was already packing a bag with my buffet pants and glacier viewing puffer coat, although cautiously wondering, “is booking a cruise the day before even possible?”

Is It Possible To Book A Cruise The Day Before?

As it turned out for me, yes.  I left my 6 year-old buckled in his booster seat, “um, mom” as I sprinted up 25 floors to our apartment, regretting not waiting 30 seconds for the elevator to arrive, and dragged my bum knee to the computer to pull up the “90 Day Ticker” on Vacations To Go where I found three cruises scheduled to depart the next day, the Star Princess and Holland America’s Oosterdam from Pier 91 and the Norwegian Bliss from Pier 66, which happens to be walking distance from our apartment downtown.  The Star Princess was sold out, but both the Oosterdam and the Bliss showed inside cabins still available. 

Five and a half years of graduate school followed by several years working as a full-time researcher and many more years spent nagging my own students to “triangulate your sources,” has resulted in a habit practiced by me to this day with far more regularity and conviction than shaving and flossing.  I always identify three credible sources that say the same thing before settling on something as “fact.”  This has mostly served me well – I’ve only fallen victim to one cult in my life and ordered one defective pasta maker from an infomercial for my dorm room – but in this case, it almost caused me to miss the boat.  Literally.   

After seeing two cruises available on Vacations To Go, I went direct to the Holland America and NCL sites, neither of which showed a cruise out of Seattle available for the next day.  Then, I went to Cruise Direct, another online travel agency I frequently book through and, again, nothing.  I started flying around the room in distress like a deflating balloon before returning to Vacations To Go, which was now only showing the Norwegian Bliss.  The Oosterdam sailing had, poof!, disappeared.  Down to only one source, and a shaky one at that, poof!, and one possible cruise, I could have given up.  Should have given up.  But there was a cruise at stake.  Triangulation be damned! And I was preparing for battle: hand me the phone, H!  H?  “Oh shoot, he’s still in the car!”

It was 2:30pm now.  And it was like every clock in our apartment was trying to out tick the others, growing louder and more urgent: TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK!  With no time to spare, I rang Byron, my contact at Vacations To Go who confirmed there were still inside guarantee cabins at the sail away rate of $549 per person showing as available on the Norwegian Bliss.  I hadn’t booked a sitter for Henry yet, so I asked him if he could hold a cabin for me.  He tried, but the system was only letting him hold it for a few minutes at a time.  I sent a Rover request to my regular dog sitter but, for the first time ever, she didn’t get back to me right away: TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK. 

After 20 minutes of pacing and stubbing my toe repeatedly on the same table leg followed by cursing and then obsessively refreshing my computer screen to distract from the pain, “ok, it hasn’t poofed yet,” Mr. Cruise, who is exceedingly patient, had reached his breaking point again: “just book it already!  We’ll figure something out for Henry.”

At 3pm, I rang Byron to say, “GO!  Book it!”  “Okay, let me see if it goes through.”  And the next 30 seconds were the longest of my life.  Longer than child birth.  Longer than a faculty senate meeting where we spent a full hour debating whether we should create a committee to study committees (true story and we ultimately did).  And longer than the times each of my children went missing.  One turned up at the shelter, looking disappointed when I showed up to adopt him for the second time.  And the other one was located on the kitchen floor – where he’d been for 45 minutes after his bus arrived early and he’d let himself into the apartment with his emergency key – making himself a snack of peanut butter, hot sauce, and cereal.

Now imagine my relief at finding H safe and sound in our apartment after having called the school from the bus stop only to be told that “the bus dropped him off 45 minutes ago” and believing he’d either been kidnapped, or more likely, had set off in the direction of upstate NY to live with his Gigi – my mother-in-law –  in suburban paradise and that I’d have to call her and both admit that I’d lost her grandson, but also that he deemed her more fit to raise him. 

I was relieved, yes, but I was really relieved when Byron came back on the line to confirm that I was booked on the Bliss for tomorrow!  This was happening! 

Or was it…

No Room At The Inn

With no room assignment, but assurances from Byron that one would be issued at the Pier, we set out on foot at 9:45am, arriving at Pier 66 by 10am (#dreamscometrue). 

We followed the signs to baggage drop off…

…and were directed to a table where we would receive our room assignment and a tag for our giant bag half filled with my ankle-length puffer coat, which for the first time ever, I would have been wise to leave home due to record high temps in Alaska and, as I would soon discover, no checked baggage service.

Upon giving the table attendant my name, “Prof. Cruise,” he located it on his passenger manifest, phew!, with the corresponding cabin number 99999 and, with a perplexed expression turned to his partner and said, “I’ve never seen that before.”  And then turned back to me and said, “ma’am you’ll have to take your bag to the check-in counter where they’ll assign you a cabin number.”

So H and I lugged my puffer coat and the remaining contents of our giant bag through several snaking rope lines, thankfully void of anyone actually waiting in said lines or toes may have been sacrificed in forced support of last minute cruising, and up to the check-in counter where Nancy, a kind, but ill-fortuned NCL employee had drawn the short stick, party 99999. 

She pulled up our reservation with the same perplexed look and the same “I’ve never seen that before.”  She called over a perky supervisor who had also “never seen that before” and instructed Nancy to continue checking us in as she located our room assignment.  After twenty minutes of watching three official looking NCL employees huddled around a laptop as one of them typed frantically only breaking to repeatedly shake his head, “no,” we were instructed to, “wait over there – we’re still working on it.” 

So we took a seat and after a few more minutes were approached by the Assistant Manager of Guest Relations who informed us that no rooms were currently available and we likely wouldn’t receive a room assignment until after 3pm.  He said we could receive our ship cards, board, and instructed me to call him from the boat at 3pm.  And although he didn’t say it explicitly, I deduced that the ship had been oversold and that they were waiting to see who didn’t show up in order to assign us a room. 

We navigated our giant bag – whom we’d now affectionately named Albert and accepted as a third traveling companion, “I hope our room will have an extra bed for Big Al” – up the gangway and were on the ship by 11:15am, well under 24 hours from the time we’d booked the cruise. 

We hoisted Al into a booth at the buffet, “you okay, buddy?” and loaded up four plates with mac ‘n cheese for H, Indian for me, desserts to share, and a little of everything for Al since he’d never been permitted to lunch with us before and didn’t know what he liked. 

After a satisfying lunch – “mom, my tummy hurts,” “well done, son” – we dragged a fatter Albert who was feeling claustrophobic among the embarkation day crowds out to The Waterfront where I started looking for some straw to build a manger for my food baby since there still wasn’t any room at the inn. 

Binging on technology and trying to reassure Albert that he wasn’t keeping us from exploring the ship, we waited until 3 o’clock before we coaxed Big Al, with a trail of crumbs from a buffet cookie I’d wrapped up in my pocket for emergencies, back inside and down to guest services where I explained our situation to another manager.  She asked us to wait for a few moments and disappeared into a mystery back room where I can only assume crewmembers huddle around security monitors laughing as entitled Americas pick at their noses and wedgies and smell their pits. 

The manager emerged with a straight face, acting as if she hadn’t just seen me securing some fly away hair with spit, “get a load of this one!” and informed us that we should never have been allowed to board without a room assignment and there still wasn’t anything available.  However, “you’re on now, so we will find you a cabin.  But it won’t be available until after the muster drill.” 

By this point, I wondered if they were hauling a signature NCL mattress and comforter set down to the brig for us, “don’t worry ma’am, the bars are just decorative.”  “Darn, I was actually hoping a locked cell might save me $6 an hour on late night babysitting.”  

Speaking of babysitting, I wondered how I was going to manage an antsy six-year-old and big Al at Muster Drill, so the manager offered to keep Al in her office and laughed when I said “can’t you keep the kid instead?” like I was joking.  Al was scared to leave us, but I’m well practiced at trying to convince hesitant dependents to turn over their care to total strangers so I can hit the bar: “it’ll be fun and you’ll be with other bags your size.”

I’ve Never Seen That Before

I’ve heard this a few dozen times in my life, mostly in reference to my eyelashes and eyebrows, so blond as to appear nonexistent.  But never have I heard it so many times in one day, this time in reference to the muster station listed on my ship card: “N/A.  I’ve never seen that before.”  Thankfully we made it through seven days without an “abandon ship,” because we would have been wandering around looking for station N/A until everyone, sans us and the captain, was half way to Gilligan’s Island on a life raft.  The captain would look at me and assume this was just another ploy to accomplish my life goal to marry a cruise ship captain, because he’d never seen that before, and would jump into the last raft thinking, “maritime tradition didn’t anticipate this one.”

How To Score The Cheapest Balcony Cabin On A Cruise

After scanning my ship card at a muster station I selected because the crewmember in charge was hot and I wanted to daydream about him rescuing me at sea while he demonstrated the life jacket, H and I returned to Guest Services to check on Big Al and finally receive our room assignment.  And to our surprise, it wasn’t the morgue!  It was a balcony cabin on deck 14 with an extra bed for Al. 

So if you want to know the secret to scoring a balcony cabin on a high floor for a 7 day sailing to Alaska, including Glacier Bay, onboard a popular ship, for the inside guarantee sail away rate of $549 per person, it’s this: book at 3pm the day before and get assigned cabin 99999. 

How Booking A Last Minute Cruise Can Affect Your Time Onboard

So we were onboard and in a room, mooning and flipping the bird and yelling “peace out” at our apartment from our bonus balcony like I’d dreamed of doing for so many Pittsburgh winters before we moved to Seattle, but how did booking last minute affect our time onboard?

No Reservations

While I had no real reservations about booking a completely spontaneous cruise leaving the next day, that also meant I had no restaurants or activities reserved prior to boarding.  This could be particularly problematic on a mega ship like the Bliss that requires reservations for most popular dining and entertainment options. 

Thankfully for us, there were still slots available for the two complimentary shows we wanted to see and with a budget of zero dollars, we weren’t planning on dining at any specialty restaurants or participating in any activities requiring an upcharge.  But this is something for others to keep in mind when booking a cruise last minute – by the time we received our room assignment, pickings were slim for popular attractions.   

Ports Of Call

Brochures for Alaska are one of those things people have pinned to their cubicle as they count down, “just 3 more years until retirement and I step from a helicopter onto a glacier while Bonnie snaps a photo for me to send back to the cocky 13-year-old they hired to replace me with a note reading: hang in there buddy, in 52 more years this can be you.”  Which is to say, most plan for it, sometimes years in advance.  But with no time to research or book any excursions, we had to wing it. 

Because we’d visited each of our three ports many times before and had another Alaska sailing scheduled in just a few weeks, we elected to stay on the ship in Juneau and Ketchikan where, thankfully, no one bore witness to my hairy pits in the hot tub (stay tuned) because we had the whole 20 stories of ship to ourselves.  In Skagway we stuck to free activities within walking distance – The Gold Rush Cemetery, Reid Falls, the library, a playground, and the Moore House.

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And while we had a great time, “mother/son splash fight on deck 17” I wouldn’t recommend this approach for those looking to maximize their one shot at Alaska (or wherever else your last minute cruise might take you). 

Packing Challenges For A Last Minute Cruise

When my mother-in-law learned of our last minute cruise she was excited for us, but expressed anxiety at the thought of having to pack so quickly. I casually responded with, “no big deal, I’ll just throw a few things into a bag.” And while I remembered my puffer coat for the cold and my gym fan for the heat (I have a faulty thermostat), three critical items were deflected off the handle of my suitcase, landing back in their respective drawers, never making it onto the ship: toothpaste, razors, and spare socks for my 6 year-old.

After a week of brushing with water, I could refinish a dresser with the grit on my teeth, I had to edit hairy arm pits out of 300+ bathing suit selfies (one made it onto Instagram before I noticed…sincere apologies), and as for the one pair of socks my son wore all week, if any of you were booked on the Bliss just after us and wondering about the hazmat suits, the socks were declared a biohazard by customs and not allowed back into the country.

Seriously, I have to wash his socks alone in hot water with a double rinse after a typical school day with just two 15 minute recesses. So you can imagine…

And while my packing oversights resulted in minor discomfort for us and, perhaps permanent olfactory damage for the underpaid counselors at Splash Academy, packing essential items such as prescription medications can be a much more serious consideration for others when it comes to last minute cruising.

Final Thoughts On Last Minute Cruising

And while I packed one item I didn’t intend to, a nasty cold virus that struck half way through our voyage, but thankfully spared my taste buds until the afternoon of our return home aiding in necessary post-cruise weight reduction (#silverlining), our last minute cruise was a grand adventure. One I’d do over and over again but with a razor, toothpaste, and 7 pairs of child’s size 6 socks at the ready.

And with that…

Class Dismissed.

Homework: Post to the comments how many days/weeks/months in advance you typically book your cruises and any experience you have with last minute cruising. And be sure to check back for my review of the Norwegian Bliss and some fun, free options for Skagway should you find yourself on a last minute cruise to Alaska.

*And don’t YOU miss the boat. Be sure to subscribe to the blog to receive new course materials directly to your e-mail. Scroll up to the top right if on a computer or keep scrolling if on a mobile device. And be sure to follow Prof. Cruise on social media.

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