Cruise to CocoCay – Day 1

When my alarm went off at 6:30, it felt like I had only blinked. My eyelids were heavier than my own luggage. I dragged myself up, got ready, and caught a ride to Leonor’s place — we were traveling with her parents. The drive over was very pleasant, though I was given the usual send-off reminder: “Don’t get drunk and don’t embarrass yourself, Danny.” A tall order, but I felt oddly up to the challenge.
We left around 8 a.m. for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Fort Lauderdale. I didn’t mind the road trip, not at all, it was my bladder did. About two hours in, I was starting to feel my teeth float, thankfully I was rescued when Leonor’s mom called for a pit stop to pick up some snacks. After that, we were back on the highway and soon pulling into Port of call. That may be the wrong term but it sounds nice.
Once we’d shown our passports to confirm we weren’t terrorists or troublemakers, we searched for a parking space — not exactly straightforward, but I was too distracted to care. I couldn’t take my eyes off the ship. The Oasis of the Seas stood before us like a floating skyscraper, dwarfing everything around it. I had no idea just how massive it really was until later.
Pushing my bag up the gangway, I stepped aboard and was immediately swallowed by the crowd — passengers everywhere, most headed straight for their staterooms. This made using the lifts more of a practice of breathe holding and yoga exercises as fitting into the lift one would have to contort themselves into a small crack between two other blokes who were well into using their drink package, which I didn’t get this time but that’s neither here nor there.
Our stateroom was on Deck 12, starboard-side aft in shippy lingo — Room 684. I dropped my bag and practically leapt across the bed to the balcony. The door took me a minute to figure out — “very shippy” style lock again, very cool I thought to myself as I said come on Dan outsmart the door now, but once open, I was taken back by the view. It was unbelievable. We were as high as a building, part of this massive floating city.
After a quick change, Leonor and I headed down to meet her parents on Deck 9. Their stateroom mirrored ours — cozy, with a queen-size bed, a couch, a few dressers, and a small safe which I made very good use of. Once everyone was ready, it was time for lunch.
We took the lift to Deck 8, rounded a corner, and stepped into Central Park. I’m not exaggerating when I say it is a literal park — trees, plants, open sky — right in the middle of the ship. Looking up, you could see the decks rising like an apartment complex around this oasis of greenery.
A coffee shop, bakery, and pizza shop along with other restaurants and shops along the path of trees. I grabbed a coffee, Leonor got a slice, and her dad went for a sandwich. From there, we wandered toward the Boardwalk at the rear or aft in ship talk.
It was like stepping into a seaside carnival: a hot-dog stand that served not just hot dogs but huge bratwurst, a candy shop, a Johnny Rockets, and a beach shop — even an enormous water slide curling down from the ship’s top deck to the ground in the Boardwalk. Past that was the Aqua Theater, where the water shows would take place. This ship just never stopped.
After exploring, we returned to our stateroom so I could take in one of the moments I’d been waiting for: departure.
I stood on the balcony, waiting like those movie characters waving from a ship as the crowd on shore waves back. The ship’s horns sounded — several short blasts followed by one long, this was the horn sounding the ship was ready to get underway. The ship shuddered, then began to glide away from the dock, slowly at first, then faster, cutting through the harbor waters. This massive city making its way to the sea.
We passed several fishermen casting their lines, waving up at us as we waved back. The whole thing felt surreal — cinematic.
Leonor suggested a walk to the top deck, and I thought “That’s Brilliant!”. I even poured my “signature” drink: a double shot of Jameson Irish Whiskey, neat — with a Sprite on the side so Leonor could enjoy some too. Normally, I take it with Coke, but who cares about that.
We wandered around the pool, grabbed free ice cream which was amazing, and just stood there together, watching the sea stretch endlessly. The moment was still and sacred.
I remembered a line from Khalil Gibran:
“There must be something strangely sacred about salt. It is in our tears and in the sea.”
And standing there, surrounded by the smell of salt and the sound of waves, I understood what he meant.