barbie cruise boat ship

• Barbie dolls
• Barbie Catalog
• Barbie x Decades
• Barbie Collections
• Barbie Fashionistas
• Vintage Barbie
• News Barbie
• Barbie world
• Barbie Designers

Accessories and others

• Playset and Barbie Doll
• Barbie Playset
• Other Barbie products
• Barbie for you
• Barbie Movies

Barbie price comparator

• Top 10 Best Barbie Deals
• The Cheapest Barbie
• My Scene Catalog
• My Scene Collections
• Identifier Quiz
• Decade Identifier Quiz
• All entries
• MyToysMyLife
• Vintage and News
• Collectibles
• Advertisement
• F.A.Q. Barbie
• Applications
• Achievements
• Fashion Shop
• Barbie Glossary
• BarbiePedia

Barbie® Pink Passport Cruise Ship

Set sail into imagination with the Barbie® cruise ship play set! There are so many pieces for adventure on the high seas. The ship opens to reveal multiple play spaces for sea-faring fun. The front pulls out to become a pool with two pink slides to really make a splash! Fold down the ship's side to access the interior dining room (with its fold-down table and booth) and a yellow swing for two with a colorful umbrella on the outdoor patio. The top of the ship flips up and transforms into a bedroom with two bunks, each with a tropical print blanket. And movable furnishings inspire storytelling around the set -- there's a dining table/buffet, a bench, two lounge chairs, a small table, place settings, a sweet treat, pillow and more. Young adventurers will love sailing into storytelling with this Barbie® cruise ship and stopping wherever imagination leads because with Barbie®, you can be anything! Includes cruise ship play set, furnishings and accessories; doll not included. Colors and decorations may vary. The Barbie® transforming cruise ship opens to reveal multiple play spaces and inspire adventurous storytelling! The front of the ship pulls out to become a pool with two pink slides (and a dolphin decoration) for a real splash! The ship's side folds down to reveal the interior dining room -- flip down the table, set it with the place settings and sit in the cushy booth for a delicious meal. The side becomes a patio that holds a yellow swing -- that fits two! -- and umbrella with tropical flower. The top of the ship flips up and transforms into a bedroom with two bunks, each with a tropical print blanket. Movable furnishings and accessories let stories move around the playset -- there's a dining table/buffet, a bench, two lounge chairs, a small table, place settings, food, a pillow and more. Sail into storytelling with this Barbie® cruise ship and stop wherever imagination leads because with Barbie®, you can be anything! Product: FLB33 Released: 2017 No batteries required Ages: 3 years and up

Discover more

Kelly Fashion Avenue™

Barbie® Camping Fun™ Fishing Accessories

Barbie® Fashion

Barbie The Movie Hot Wheels Corvette 4-Pack

* The price is shown for illustrative purposes only and is not binding. Actual retail prices may vary.

Barbie is a toy brand belonging to the American toy company Mattel. It was created on March 9, 1959, by Ruth Handler. All products are registered by the respective brands and are copyrighted. Did you find it useful? Remember to cite Barbiepedia as your source of information.

The standard range of Barbie dolls and their accessories are manufactured at approximately 1/6 scale, which is also known as playscale. Barbie products not only include the range of dolls with their clothes and accessories, but also a wide range of items, such as: books, magazines, clothing, cosmetics, video games, decorative objects and almost everything you can imagine. In addition to all that, the famous doll has her own movie saga.

Barbiepedia contains a catalog guide with more than 10,000 Barbie products with photographs and data. There are own data and photographs, commercial photographs and descriptions from Mattel and photographs and descriptions from third parties. Barbiepedia also has a blog about the Barbie universe and compatibles. , as well as games designed for Barbie lovers and collectors, also applications related to Barbie and her verse and much more. This website has costs for hosting and other providers. Barbiepedia aims to be a place where you can find anything about Barbie and have a fantastic Barbie experience! When you buy through links on barbiepedia, we may earn an affiliate commission (at no cost to you), which helps keep the site online and up-to-date.

• @barbiepedia_oficial
• @BarbiePedia
• @pediabarbie
• @barbiepedia

New on Barbiepedia

• Dress like Barbie
• Best Barbie Deals
• Cheapest Barbie
• Barbie Collaborations
• Your Barbie Gallery
• BP Card Game
• Ranking games
• Barbie Remember
• Barbie Scale Converter
• Best Barbie Collector offers
• Best Barbie Fashionistas® offers
• Best Barbie Fashions Deals

What can you find?

• Barbie Dolls Catalog
• Accesorios Barbie
• Barbiepedia games
• Barbiepedia Aplications
• Barbie Identifier
• Barbie Character Sheets
• Barbie doll collections
• Universe Barbie news
• Barbie Blog
• Barbie Personal Lists
• Barbie Collector Glossary
• Barbie F.A.Q.

Last entries

Dive into endless fun with puzzle challenge: solve barbie puzzles at your own pace.

Welcome, lovers of challenges and creative games! Barbiepedia presents an exciting new game that will...

Role Models Barbie

Since 2015, Barbie has been on a mission to honor diverse role models, both modern-day and historical,...

Mattel Trademark Legends

Apples to Apples®, Apptivity™, BabyGear™, Barbie®, Barbie in a Mermaid Tale®...

BarbiePedia aims to be the meeting place for all Barbie doll collectors. ¡Sign up or Log in!

latest in US News

Former ambassador sentenced to 15 years in prison for spying on...

World's oldest conjoined twins dead at 62

Supporter who hugged Trump at Atlanta Chick-fil-A says media...

Hunter Biden’s ‘nonsensical’ bid to dismiss federal gun...

Noisy pet rooster ruffles feathers in the Hamptons with pre-dawn...

Girlfriend of 14-year-old senselessly gunned down while...

Teen brute accused of shoving, robbing granny outside NYC church...

Dad of 3 kids who were allegedly killed by mom running Boston...

Cruise passenger who jumped to death from ship id’d as florida resident who argued with dad before leap.

• View Author Archive
• Get author RSS feed

Thanks for contacting us. We've received your submission.

The  20-year-old passenger who jumped off a Royal Caribbean cruise  last week after an argument with his dad has been identified as a former high school football player and avid hunter living in Florida.

Levion Parker, of North Port, Florida, has been missing since he jumped overboard April 4 in front of his brother and father on the cruise to Cuba and the Bahamas’ Grand Inagua Island, the Broward County Sheriff’s Office said Wednesday.

The release of his identity comes shortly after the  Coast Guard called off its search  for Parker. 

Social media posts show Parker often went on hunting and fishing trips. He also played football for North Port High School before he graduated in 2022, according to the Daily Mail .

Parker jumped off the 18-story Liberty of the Seas after reportedly getting into an argument with his father.

Parker’s father was “fussing at him for being drunk,”  fellow passenger Bryan Sims told The Post .

“When we got to them, he said to his dad, ‘I’ll fix this right now.’ And he jumped out the window in front of us all,” Sims said.

“He was pretty drunk,” Sims added.

Sims hung out with Parker and his brother, Seth, 18, in the hot tub in the early hours of April before going their separate ways around 4 a.m. 

After Sims had used the restroom and dried off, he headed toward the elevators.

On his way there, he noticed the two brothers and their dad, Francel Parker, coming out of the sliding doors near the elevators. 

“As we were walking from the hot tub back to the elevators, his dad and brother were walking towards us. His dad was fussing at him for being drunk, I guess,” Sims said of the moment before Parker jumped.  

Royal Caribbean said it “immediately” launched search boats to look for him with help from the US Coast Guard.

Keep up with today's most important news

Stay up on the very latest with Evening Update.

Thanks for signing up!

Please provide a valid email address.

By clicking above you agree to the Terms of Use and Privacy Policy .

Never miss a story.

Parker’s father owns an air conditioning company and the family was cruising on the boat as guests of Tropic Supply, a Florida-based air conditioning wholesale company.

Tropic Supply had invited dozens of contractors to mark the company’s 50th anniversary, according to Daily Mail.

The Post has reached out to the family for comment. 

Nearly 400 people have gone overboard on major cruise lines between 2000 and 2020,  according to the Washington Post . 

As many cases are often deadly, many cruise lines have installed surveillance cameras and employed additional safety measures to help reduce risk. 

If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts or are experiencing a mental health crisis and live in New York City, you can call 1-888-NYC-WELL for free and confidential crisis counseling. If you live outside the five boroughs, you can dial the 24/7 National Suicide Prevention hotline at 988 or go to SuicidePreventionLifeline.org.

Share this article:

Advertisement

Father of Florida cruise passenger, 20, who jumped off Royal Caribbean ship believes his son is still alive: report

T he father of the 20-year-old passenger who jumped off a Royal Caribbean cruise ship last Thursday in a reportedly drunken, impulsive leap believes his son is still alive nearly a week later.

Francel Parker, dad of missing Levion Parker, told The Daily Sun that he believes his child — whom he called a master diver — is still alive in the waters off the Bahamas.

“As soon as he went off the side, I prayed over him. I was confident the prayers I said over my son were heard. I stand on the word of God. I believe he is alive,” Francel Parker said to the local Florida paper Wednesday.

The US Coast Guard called off its search for the North Port man a day earlier.

The younger Parker allegedly jumped off the 18-story Liberty of the Seas ship at around 4 a.m. in front of his helpless dad and younger brother after getting into an argument with his father, witnesses previously told The Post.

But Francel, who runs an AC business in Port Charlotte, told the local newspaper that he wasn’t arguing with Levion and that his son wasn’t trying to take his own life.

He said Levion is a skilled diver who works on a commercial fishing boat and is demanding to know how his underage son was given alcohol on the four-day cruise to Cuba and the Bahamas’ Grand Inagua Island.

“We don’t drink,” Francel said. “I’d like to know how my son was served so much alcohol.”

Another passenger onboard the cruise who witnessed Levion’s heart-stopping jump said that Francel was “fussing at him for being drunk.”

Bryan Sims told The Post that he was hanging out with Levion and his 18-year-old brother Seth in the hotel tub of the ship in the early hours of April 4 before going their separate ways.

After Sims had used the restroom and dried off, he bumped into the brothers and their father near the elevators.

“As we were walking from the hot tub back to the elevators, his dad and brother were walking towards us. His dad was fussing at him for being drunk, I guess,” Sims said of the moment before Parker jumped.  

“When we got to them, he said to his dad, ‘I’ll fix this right now.’ And he jumped out the window in front of us all,” Sims said, calling what he witnessed “surreal.”

Another cruise guest described the frantic chaos that followed.

“There was a lot of yelling, and the crew was alerted immediately,” Deborah Morrison, told The Post.

“His family was horrified. Just beside themselves. I can’t even begin to imagine what they’re going through.”

Francel told The Daily Sun that he threw six life rings off the ship in hopes of saving his son before the massive boat was able to come to a stop about 20 minutes later.

Royal Caribbean said it “immediately” launched search boats to look for the 20-year-old and alerted the Coast Guard, which later took over the search.

At least 406 people on major cruise lines and ferries have gone overboard between 2000 and 2024, according to data collected by retired professor and cruise industry researcher Ross Klein.

Death rates among overboard passengers and crew members vary significantly among cruise lines, but even the safest cruise companies were only able to rescue about 40% of people who fall or jump off the ship, Klein told the Washington Post in July.

20-year-old man missing after jumping off a Royal Caribbean cruise ship, report says

• A 20-year-old man on holiday with his family went overboard from a Royal Caribbean cruise. 
• The man, who's been missing since early Thursday morning, may have jumped, a report said. 
• The US Coast Guard has launched a search operation. 

A 20-year-old man who was vacationing with his family on a cruise may have jumped overboard, The New York Post reported.

Royal Caribbean confirmed that a passenger, whose identity has not been revealed, went overboard near The Bahamas at about 4 a.m. on Thursday and has been missing since then.

The US Coast Guard launched a search for the passenger on Thursday.

A Royal Caribbean spokesperson told Business Insider that the cruise line's "Care Team is providing support and assistance to the guest's family during this difficult time."

Bryan Sims, a fellow cruise passenger, told The New York Post that he'd hung out with the passenger in the hot tub until 3:30 a.m. Sims said the man appeared to be "pretty drunk."

Sims told the Post that after leaving the hot tub, they encountered the passenger's father while approaching the elevators.

"His dad was fussing at him for being drunk," Sims said.

Related stories

Deborah Morrison, another passenger on board the cruise, told the Post that "there was a lot of yelling and that the crew was alerted immediately."

"The ship's crew immediately launched a search and rescue effort alongside the US Coast Guard, who has taken over the search," the Royal Caribbean spokesperson said.

#Breaking @USCG crews are searching for a 20-year-old man who went overboard from the Liberty of the Seas cruise ship 57 miles from Great Inagua this morning. USCG Cutter Seneca and Air Station Miami HC-144 crews are conducting the search. #USCG #SAR pic.twitter.com/zZPpKOdyCn — USCGSoutheast (@USCGSoutheast) April 4, 2024

The Liberty of the Seas departed from South Florida and was 57 miles from Great Inagua in The Bahamas when the passenger went overboard.

The cruise ship has 18 decks and can accommodate up to 3,634 passengers. It's served by a crew of about 1,300.

The chances of falling overboard on a cruise ship are extremely low .

In 2023, about 31 million passengers traveled on a cruise, and at least 10 people went overboard, with two of them surviving, Business Insider reported .

"Even one incident is one too many," a spokesperson for Cruise Lines International Association told Business Insider, adding that "the vast majority of cases are either reckless behavior or some form of intentional act. People don't just inadvertently fall over the side of a ship."

Last month, a 23-year-old man who felt seasick fell overboard from the MSC Euribia cruise ship while crossing the North Sea in Europe and was presumed dead.

In December, an MSC Cruises passenger jumped from one of its ships while sailing from Europe to South America.

According to a CLIA report, only 28.2% of passengers who fell overboard between 2009 and 2019 were successfully rescued.

Watch: Sub taking tourists to see the Titanic goes missing

• Main content

8 passengers got stuck in port after a late return. What to do if you miss your cruise.

A group of Norwegian Cruise Line passengers was left behind after returning late to their ship in Africa.

Eight guests missed the last tender back to Norwegian Dawn while the ship was visiting the island nation of São Tomé and Príncipe on Wednesday, according to a spokesperson for the line. They were on a tour not organized through Norwegian.

Two guests, Jay and Jill Campbell, told South Carolina’s ABC 15 News their tour went longer than expected. When they returned, the ship was still in port, and the captain declined to let them board despite numerous attempts to reach Norwegian. At one point, they said, the island nation’s coast guard took them to the ship on a boat but told them to return to shore.

“The captain could have made an easy decision to turn one of the tender boats back, pick us up, safely load us, and then go on the way," Jay Campbell told the outlet.

'I just felt so helpless': Carnival Sunrise cruise ship faces flooding

“When the guests did not return to the vessel at the all-aboard time, their passports were delivered to the local port agents to retrieve when they returned to the port, as per the regular protocol,” the Norwegian spokesperson said in an emailed statement. “Our team has been working closely with the local authorities to understand the requirements and necessary visas needed for the guests to rejoin the ship at the next available port of call.”

Since then, the passengers have been scrambling to catch up to the cruise. Here’s what to do if you get stranded during a stop and how to minimize the chance of being left behind:

What happens if I don’t get back to my cruise in time?

Cruise lines warn guests they may get stuck if they don’t return to the ship by the stated all-aboard time.

“While this is a very unfortunate situation, guests are responsible for ensuring they return to the ship at the published time, which is communicated broadly over the ship’s intercom, in the daily print communication and posted just before exiting the vessel,” the Norwegian spokesperson said.

Cruise ships are on tight schedules while in port, said Joanna Kuther, a New York City-based travel agent and owner of Port Side Travel Consultants. “So if they have to leave at a certain time, they have to leave at that time,” she said. “It could be that there's another (ship) coming in. It could be (that) people aren't going to be there to be working on the pier.”

The Campbells told ABC 15 News that they traveled through six countries for 15 hours to reach Gambia, where the ship was due to stop on Monday. However, the vessel was unable to dock due to low tides. Norwegian said it made the change “due to adverse weather conditions, as well as tidal restrictions that require specific timing for safe passage.”

“While we share in our guests’ disappointment, this modification was made with great consideration for their safety and that of our crew, which is our top priority,” the spokesperson added.

The cruise line authorized them to rejoin the ship in Dakar, Senegal, on Tuesday.

Kuther recommended guests who miss their all-aboard time contact the cruise line to let them know and reach out to their travel agent – if they have one – who can help handle the logistics. She said the nearest U.S. embassy may also be able to assist them.

Are travelers responsible for added expenses?

Travelers who do not board their ship in time are generally responsible for getting themselves to the next port of call, according to Kuther.

Travel insurance won't be much good in that scenario, either.

"Typically travel delay coverage/missed connection coverage is due to a delay of a common carrier such as an airline delay or cancellation for a covered reason which causes you to miss your cruise/tour departure," Meghan Walch, director of product at InsureMyTrip, said in an email. "An excursion supplier not getting you back to your cruise in time is typically not covered."

The Norwegian spokesperson said the cruise line is reimbursing the eight guests for their travel expenses from Banjul, Gambia, to Dakar, but Kuther stressed that kind of compensation is “definitely the exception to the rule.”

How to avoid getting stranded

When choosing a shore excursion, Kuther said it’s safest to book through the cruise line or with another vendor that guarantees to get passengers back to the ship on time or to the next port. Travel agents can help guests find those options, or they can ask operators about their policies directly when booking.

Just in case something does go wrong, travelers should bring a credit card or debit card so they have a way to cover any costs they might incur. Kuther typically recommends bringing an ID “because you don’t want to be carrying around your passport,” but if travelers are going on a private excursion without that kind of guarantee, it’s a different story.

“You probably should have your passport with you because you're going to need it to get on a flight to get to the next port, especially if it's in a different country,” she said.

At the very least, it’s a good idea for travelers to have a photo of their passport on hand, and share a copy with someone back home who is easily reachable.

Story continues below.

Cruise insurance: Should you buy it through a cruise line? Maybe not, experts say

She also recommended they make sure their phone or watch is set to ship time rather than the time of the destination, which may be different (the all-aboard time will be on ship time). “So many people get confused with that,” Kuther said.

To be safe, she suggested guests get back to the ship an hour early if they’re exploring on their own or on a self-booked excursion in case they hit traffic or face other issues.

“It's one of those things like, it's not a problem until it's a problem,” Kuther said. She urged travelers not to expect the ship to wait. “If they can, I'm sure they will, but I would never tell someone, ‘Don’t worry about it.’”

Nathan Diller is a consumer travel reporter for USA TODAY based in Nashville. You can reach him at [email protected]

Crying Myself to Sleep on the Biggest Cruise Ship Ever

Seven agonizing nights aboard the Icon of the Seas

Listen to this article

Listen to more stories on curio

Updated at 2:44 p.m. ET on April 6, 2024.

This article was featured in the One Story to Read Today newsletter. Sign up for it here .

MY FIRST GLIMPSE of Royal Caribbean’s Icon of the Seas, from the window of an approaching Miami cab, brings on a feeling of vertigo, nausea, amazement, and distress. I shut my eyes in defense, as my brain tells my optic nerve to try again.

The ship makes no sense, vertically or horizontally. It makes no sense on sea, or on land, or in outer space. It looks like a hodgepodge of domes and minarets, tubes and canopies, like Istanbul had it been designed by idiots. Vibrant, oversignifying colors are stacked upon other such colors, decks perched over still more decks; the only comfort is a row of lifeboats ringing its perimeter. There is no imposed order, no cogent thought, and, for those who do not harbor a totalitarian sense of gigantomania, no visual mercy. This is the biggest cruise ship ever built, and I have been tasked with witnessing its inaugural voyage.

Explore the May 2024 Issue

Check out more from this issue and find your next story to read.

“Author embarks on their first cruise-ship voyage” has been a staple of American essay writing for almost three decades, beginning with David Foster Wallace’s “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again,” which was first published in 1996 under the title “Shipping Out.” Since then, many admirable writers have widened and diversified the genre. Usually the essayist commissioned to take to the sea is in their first or second flush of youth and is ready to sharpen their wit against the hull of the offending vessel. I am 51, old and tired, having seen much of the world as a former travel journalist, and mostly what I do in both life and prose is shrug while muttering to my imaginary dachshund, “This too shall pass.” But the Icon of the Seas will not countenance a shrug. The Icon of the Seas is the Linda Loman of cruise ships, exclaiming that attention must be paid. And here I am in late January with my one piece of luggage and useless gray winter jacket and passport, zipping through the Port of Miami en route to the gangway that will separate me from the bulk of North America for more than seven days, ready to pay it in full.

The aforementioned gangway opens up directly onto a thriving mall (I will soon learn it is imperiously called the “Royal Promenade”), presently filled with yapping passengers beneath a ceiling studded with balloons ready to drop. Crew members from every part of the global South, as well as a few Balkans, are shepherding us along while pressing flutes of champagne into our hands. By a humming Starbucks, I drink as many of these as I can and prepare to find my cabin. I show my blue Suite Sky SeaPass Card (more on this later, much more) to a smiling woman from the Philippines, and she tells me to go “aft.” Which is where, now? As someone who has rarely sailed on a vessel grander than the Staten Island Ferry, I am confused. It turns out that the aft is the stern of the ship, or, for those of us who don’t know what a stern or an aft are, its ass. The nose of the ship, responsible for separating the waves before it, is also called a bow, and is marked for passengers as the FWD , or forward. The part of the contemporary sailing vessel where the malls are clustered is called the midship. I trust that you have enjoyed this nautical lesson.

I ascend via elevator to my suite on Deck 11. This is where I encounter my first terrible surprise. My suite windows and balcony do not face the ocean. Instead, they look out onto another shopping mall. This mall is the one that’s called Central Park, perhaps in homage to the Olmsted-designed bit of greenery in the middle of my hometown. Although on land I would be delighted to own a suite with Central Park views, here I am deeply depressed. To sail on a ship and not wake up to a vast blue carpet of ocean? Unthinkable.

Allow me a brief preamble here. The story you are reading was commissioned at a moment when most staterooms on the Icon were sold out. In fact, so enthralled by the prospect of this voyage were hard-core mariners that the ship’s entire inventory of guest rooms (the Icon can accommodate up to 7,600 passengers, but its inaugural journey was reduced to 5,000 or so for a less crowded experience) was almost immediately sold out. Hence, this publication was faced with the shocking prospect of paying nearly $19,000 to procure for this solitary passenger an entire suite—not including drinking expenses—all for the privilege of bringing you this article. But the suite in question doesn’t even have a view of the ocean! I sit down hard on my soft bed. Nineteen thousand dollars for this .

The viewless suite does have its pluses. In addition to all the Malin+Goetz products in my dual bathrooms, I am granted use of a dedicated Suite Deck lounge; access to Coastal Kitchen, a superior restaurant for Suites passengers; complimentary VOOM SM Surf & Stream (“the fastest Internet at Sea”) “for one device per person for the whole cruise duration”; a pair of bathrobes (one of which comes prestained with what looks like a large expectoration by the greenest lizard on Earth); and use of the Grove Suite Sun, an area on Decks 18 and 19 with food and deck chairs reserved exclusively for Suite passengers. I also get reserved seating for a performance of The Wizard of Oz , an ice-skating tribute to the periodic table, and similar provocations. The very color of my Suite Sky SeaPass Card, an oceanic blue as opposed to the cloying royal purple of the standard non-Suite passenger, will soon provoke envy and admiration. But as high as my status may be, there are those on board who have much higher status still, and I will soon learn to bow before them.

In preparation for sailing, I have “priced in,” as they say on Wall Street, the possibility that I may come from a somewhat different monde than many of the other cruisers. Without falling into stereotypes or preconceptions, I prepare myself for a friendly outspokenness on the part of my fellow seafarers that may not comply with modern DEI standards. I believe in meeting people halfway, and so the day before flying down to Miami, I visited what remains of Little Italy to purchase a popular T-shirt that reads DADDY’S LITTLE MEATBALL across the breast in the colors of the Italian flag. My wife recommended that I bring one of my many T-shirts featuring Snoopy and the Peanuts gang, as all Americans love the beagle and his friends. But I naively thought that my meatball T-shirt would be more suitable for conversation-starting. “Oh, and who is your ‘daddy’?” some might ask upon seeing it. “And how long have you been his ‘little meatball’?” And so on.

I put on my meatball T-shirt and head for one of the dining rooms to get a late lunch. In the elevator, I stick out my chest for all to read the funny legend upon it, but soon I realize that despite its burnished tricolor letters, no one takes note. More to the point, no one takes note of me. Despite my attempts at bridge building, the very sight of me (small, ethnic, without a cap bearing the name of a football team) elicits no reaction from other passengers. Most often, they will small-talk over me as if I don’t exist. This brings to mind the travails of David Foster Wallace , who felt so ostracized by his fellow passengers that he retreated to his cabin for much of his voyage. And Wallace was raised primarily in the Midwest and was a much larger, more American-looking meatball than I am. If he couldn’t talk to these people, how will I? What if I leave this ship without making any friends at all, despite my T-shirt? I am a social creature, and the prospect of seven days alone and apart is saddening. Wallace’s stateroom, at least, had a view of the ocean, a kind of cheap eternity.

Worse awaits me in the dining room. This is a large, multichandeliered room where I attended my safety training (I was shown how to put on a flotation vest; it is a very simple procedure). But the maître d’ politely refuses me entry in an English that seems to verge on another language. “I’m sorry, this is only for pendejos ,” he seems to be saying. I push back politely and he repeats himself. Pendejos ? Piranhas? There’s some kind of P-word to which I am not attuned. Meanwhile elderly passengers stream right past, powered by their limbs, walkers, and electric wheelchairs. “It is only pendejo dining today, sir.” “But I have a suite!” I say, already starting to catch on to the ship’s class system. He examines my card again. “But you are not a pendejo ,” he confirms. I am wearing a DADDY’S LITTLE MEATBALL T-shirt, I want to say to him. I am the essence of pendejo .

Eventually, I give up and head to the plebeian buffet on Deck 15, which has an aquatic-styled name I have now forgotten. Before gaining entry to this endless cornucopia of reheated food, one passes a washing station of many sinks and soap dispensers, and perhaps the most intriguing character on the entire ship. He is Mr. Washy Washy—or, according to his name tag, Nielbert of the Philippines—and he is dressed as a taco (on other occasions, I’ll see him dressed as a burger). Mr. Washy Washy performs an eponymous song in spirited, indeed flamboyant English: “Washy, washy, wash your hands, WASHY WASHY!” The dangers of norovirus and COVID on a cruise ship this size (a giant fellow ship was stricken with the former right after my voyage) makes Mr. Washy Washy an essential member of the crew. The problem lies with the food at the end of Washy’s rainbow. The buffet is groaning with what sounds like sophisticated dishes—marinated octopus, boiled egg with anchovy, chorizo, lobster claws—but every animal tastes tragically the same, as if there was only one creature available at the market, a “cruisipus” bred specifically for Royal Caribbean dining. The “vegetables” are no better. I pick up a tomato slice and look right through it. It tastes like cellophane. I sit alone, apart from the couples and parents with gaggles of children, as “We Are Family” echoes across the buffet space.

I may have failed to mention that all this time, the Icon of the Seas has not left port. As the fiery mango of the subtropical setting sun makes Miami’s condo skyline even more apocalyptic, the ship shoves off beneath a perfunctory display of fireworks. After the sun sets, in the far, dark distance, another circus-lit cruise ship ruptures the waves before us. We glance at it with pity, because it is by definition a smaller ship than our own. I am on Deck 15, outside the buffet and overlooking a bunch of pools (the Icon has seven of them), drinking a frilly drink that I got from one of the bars (the Icon has 15 of them), still too shy to speak to anyone, despite Sister Sledge’s assertion that all on the ship are somehow related.

Kim Brooks: On failing the family vacation

The ship’s passage away from Ron DeSantis’s Florida provides no frisson, no sense of developing “sea legs,” as the ship is too large to register the presence of waves unless a mighty wind adds significant chop. It is time for me to register the presence of the 5,000 passengers around me, even if they refuse to register mine. My fellow travelers have prepared for this trip with personally decorated T-shirts celebrating the importance of this voyage. The simplest ones say ICON INAUGURAL ’24 on the back and the family name on the front. Others attest to an over-the-top love of cruise ships: WARNING! MAY START TALKING ABOUT CRUISING . Still others are artisanally designed and celebrate lifetimes spent married while cruising (on ships, of course). A couple possibly in their 90s are wearing shirts whose backs feature a drawing of a cruise liner, two flamingos with ostensibly male and female characteristics, and the legend “ HUSBAND AND WIFE Cruising Partners FOR LIFE WE MAY NOT HAVE IT All Together BUT TOGETHER WE HAVE IT ALL .” (The words not in all caps have been written in cursive.) A real journalist or a more intrepid conversationalist would have gone up to the couple and asked them to explain the longevity of their marriage vis-à-vis their love of cruising. But instead I head to my mall suite, take off my meatball T-shirt, and allow the first tears of the cruise to roll down my cheeks slowly enough that I briefly fall asleep amid the moisture and salt.

I WAKE UP with a hangover. Oh God. Right. I cannot believe all of that happened last night. A name floats into my cobwebbed, nauseated brain: “Ayn Rand.” Jesus Christ.

I breakfast alone at the Coastal Kitchen. The coffee tastes fine and the eggs came out of a bird. The ship rolls slightly this morning; I can feel it in my thighs and my schlong, the parts of me that are most receptive to danger.

I had a dangerous conversation last night. After the sun set and we were at least 50 miles from shore (most modern cruise ships sail at about 23 miles an hour), I lay in bed softly hiccupping, my arms stretched out exactly like Jesus on the cross, the sound of the distant waves missing from my mall-facing suite, replaced by the hum of air-conditioning and children shouting in Spanish through the vents of my two bathrooms. I decided this passivity was unacceptable. As an immigrant, I feel duty-bound to complete the tasks I am paid for, which means reaching out and trying to understand my fellow cruisers. So I put on a normal James Perse T-shirt and headed for one of the bars on the Royal Promenade—the Schooner Bar, it was called, if memory serves correctly.

I sat at the bar for a martini and two Negronis. An old man with thick, hairy forearms drank next to me, very silent and Hemingwaylike, while a dreadlocked piano player tinkled out a series of excellent Elton John covers. To my right, a young white couple—he in floral shorts, she in a light, summery miniskirt with a fearsome diamond ring, neither of them in football regalia—chatted with an elderly couple. Do it , I commanded myself. Open your mouth. Speak! Speak without being spoken to. Initiate. A sentence fragment caught my ear from the young woman, “Cherry Hill.” This is a suburb of Philadelphia in New Jersey, and I had once been there for a reading at a synagogue. “Excuse me,” I said gently to her. “Did you just mention Cherry Hill? It’s a lovely place.”

As it turned out, the couple now lived in Fort Lauderdale (the number of Floridians on the cruise surprised me, given that Southern Florida is itself a kind of cruise ship, albeit one slowly sinking), but soon they were talking with me exclusively—the man potbellied, with a chin like a hard-boiled egg; the woman as svelte as if she were one of the many Ukrainian members of the crew—the elderly couple next to them forgotten. This felt as groundbreaking as the first time I dared to address an American in his native tongue, as a child on a bus in Queens (“On my foot you are standing, Mister”).

“I don’t want to talk politics,” the man said. “But they’re going to eighty-six Biden and put Michelle in.”

I considered the contradictions of his opening conversational gambit, but decided to play along. “People like Michelle,” I said, testing the waters. The husband sneered, but the wife charitably put forward that the former first lady was “more personable” than Joe Biden. “They’re gonna eighty-six Biden,” the husband repeated. “He can’t put a sentence together.”

After I mentioned that I was a writer—though I presented myself as a writer of teleplays instead of novels and articles such as this one—the husband told me his favorite writer was Ayn Rand. “Ayn Rand, she came here with nothing,” the husband said. “I work with a lot of Cubans, so …” I wondered if I should mention what I usually do to ingratiate myself with Republicans or libertarians: the fact that my finances improved after pass-through corporations were taxed differently under Donald Trump. Instead, I ordered another drink and the couple did the same, and I told him that Rand and I were born in the same city, St. Petersburg/Leningrad, and that my family also came here with nothing. Now the bonding and drinking began in earnest, and several more rounds appeared. Until it all fell apart.

Read: Gary Shteyngart on watching Russian television for five days straight

My new friend, whom I will refer to as Ayn, called out to a buddy of his across the bar, and suddenly a young couple, both covered in tattoos, appeared next to us. “He fucking punked me,” Ayn’s frat-boy-like friend called out as he put his arm around Ayn, while his sizable partner sizzled up to Mrs. Rand. Both of them had a look I have never seen on land—their eyes projecting absence and enmity in equal measure. In the ’90s, I drank with Russian soldiers fresh from Chechnya and wandered the streets of wartime Zagreb, but I have never seen such undisguised hostility toward both me and perhaps the universe at large. I was briefly introduced to this psychopathic pair, but neither of them wanted to have anything to do with me, and the tattooed woman would not even reveal her Christian name to me (she pretended to have the same first name as Mrs. Rand). To impress his tattooed friends, Ayn made fun of the fact that as a television writer, I’d worked on the series Succession (which, it would turn out, practically nobody on the ship had watched), instead of the far more palatable, in his eyes, zombie drama of last year. And then my new friends drifted away from me into an angry private conversation—“He punked me!”—as I ordered another drink for myself, scared of the dead-eyed arrivals whose gaze never registered in the dim wattage of the Schooner Bar, whose terrifying voices and hollow laughs grated like unoiled gears against the crooning of “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.”

But today is a new day for me and my hangover. After breakfast, I explore the ship’s so-called neighborhoods . There’s the AquaDome, where one can find a food hall and an acrobatic sound-and-light aquatic show. Central Park has a premium steak house, a sushi joint, and a used Rolex that can be bought for $8,000 on land here proudly offered at $17,000. There’s the aforementioned Royal Promenade, where I had drunk with the Rands, and where a pair of dueling pianos duel well into the night. There’s Surfside, a kids’ neighborhood full of sugary garbage, which looks out onto the frothy trail that the behemoth leaves behind itself. Thrill Island refers to the collection of tubes that clutter the ass of the ship and offer passengers six waterslides and a surfing simulation. There’s the Hideaway, an adult zone that plays music from a vomit-slathered, Brit-filled Alicante nightclub circa 1996 and proves a big favorite with groups of young Latin American customers. And, most hurtfully, there’s the Suite Neighborhood.

I say hurtfully because as a Suite passenger I should be here, though my particular suite is far from the others. Whereas I am stuck amid the riffraff of Deck 11, this section is on the highborn Decks 16 and 17, and in passing, I peek into the spacious, tall-ceilinged staterooms from the hallway, dazzled by the glint of the waves and sun. For $75,000, one multifloor suite even comes with its own slide between floors, so that a family may enjoy this particular terror in private. There is a quiet splendor to the Suite Neighborhood. I see fewer stickers and signs and drawings than in my own neighborhood—for example, MIKE AND DIANA PROUDLY SERVED U.S. MARINE CORPS RETIRED . No one here needs to announce their branch of service or rank; they are simply Suites, and this is where they belong. Once again, despite my hard work and perseverance, I have been disallowed from the true American elite. Once again, I am “Not our class, dear.” I am reminded of watching The Love Boat on my grandmother’s Zenith, which either was given to her or we found in the trash (I get our many malfunctioning Zeniths confused) and whose tube got so hot, I would put little chunks of government cheese on a thin tissue atop it to give our welfare treat a pleasant, Reagan-era gooeyness. I could not understand English well enough then to catch the nuances of that seafaring program, but I knew that there were differences in the status of the passengers, and that sometimes those differences made them sad. Still, this ship, this plenty—every few steps, there are complimentary nachos or milkshakes or gyros on offer—was the fatty fuel of my childhood dreams. If only I had remained a child.

I walk around the outdoor decks looking for company. There is a middle-aged African American couple who always seem to be asleep in each other’s arms, probably exhausted from the late capitalism they regularly encounter on land. There is far more diversity on this ship than I expected. Many couples are a testament to Loving v. Virginia , and there is a large group of folks whose T-shirts read MELANIN AT SEA / IT’S THE MELANIN FOR ME . I smile when I see them, but then some young kids from the group makes Mr. Washy Washy do a cruel, caricatured “Burger Dance” (today he is in his burger getup), and I think, Well, so much for intersectionality .

At the infinity pool on Deck 17, I spot some elderly women who could be ethnic and from my part of the world, and so I jump in. I am proved correct! Many of them seem to be originally from Queens (“Corona was still great when it was all Italian”), though they are now spread across the tristate area. We bond over the way “Ron-kon-koma” sounds when announced in Penn Station.

“Everyone is here for a different reason,” one of them tells me. She and her ex-husband last sailed together four years ago to prove to themselves that their marriage was truly over. Her 15-year-old son lost his virginity to “an Irish young lady” while their ship was moored in Ravenna, Italy. The gaggle of old-timers competes to tell me their favorite cruising stories and tips. “A guy proposed in Central Park a couple of years ago”—many Royal Caribbean ships apparently have this ridiculous communal area—“and she ran away screaming!” “If you’re diamond-class, you get four drinks for free.” “A different kind of passenger sails out of Bayonne.” (This, perhaps, is racially coded.) “Sometimes, if you tip the bartender $5, your next drink will be free.”

“Everyone’s here for a different reason,” the woman whose marriage ended on a cruise tells me again. “Some people are here for bad reasons—the drinkers and the gamblers. Some people are here for medical reasons.” I have seen more than a few oxygen tanks and at least one woman clearly undergoing very serious chemo. Some T-shirts celebrate good news about a cancer diagnosis. This might be someone’s last cruise or week on Earth. For these women, who have spent months, if not years, at sea, cruising is a ritual as well as a life cycle: first love, last love, marriage, divorce, death.

Read: The last place on Earth any tourist should go

I have talked with these women for so long, tonight I promise myself that after a sad solitary dinner I will not try to seek out company at the bars in the mall or the adult-themed Hideaway. I have enough material to fulfill my duties to this publication. As I approach my orphaned suite, I run into the aggro young people who stole Mr. and Mrs. Rand away from me the night before. The tattooed apparitions pass me without a glance. She is singing something violent about “Stuttering Stanley” (a character in a popular horror movie, as I discover with my complimentary VOOM SM Surf & Stream Internet at Sea) and he’s loudly shouting about “all the money I’ve lost,” presumably at the casino in the bowels of the ship.

So these bent psychos out of a Cormac McCarthy novel are angrily inhabiting my deck. As I mewl myself to sleep, I envision a limited series for HBO or some other streamer, a kind of low-rent White Lotus , where several aggressive couples conspire to throw a shy intellectual interloper overboard. I type the scenario into my phone. As I fall asleep, I think of what the woman who recently divorced her husband and whose son became a man through the good offices of the Irish Republic told me while I was hoisting myself out of the infinity pool. “I’m here because I’m an explorer. I’m here because I’m trying something new.” What if I allowed myself to believe in her fantasy?

“YOU REALLY STARTED AT THE TOP,” they tell me. I’m at the Coastal Kitchen for my eggs and corned-beef hash, and the maître d’ has slotted me in between two couples. Fueled by coffee or perhaps intrigued by my relative youth, they strike up a conversation with me. As always, people are shocked that this is my first cruise. They contrast the Icon favorably with all the preceding liners in the Royal Caribbean fleet, usually commenting on the efficiency of the elevators that hurl us from deck to deck (as in many large corporate buildings, the elevators ask you to choose a floor and then direct you to one of many lifts). The couple to my right, from Palo Alto—he refers to his “porn mustache” and calls his wife “my cougar” because she is two years older—tell me they are “Pandemic Pinnacles.”

This is the day that my eyes will be opened. Pinnacles , it is explained to me over translucent cantaloupe, have sailed with Royal Caribbean for 700 ungodly nights. Pandemic Pinnacles took advantage of the two-for-one accrual rate of Pinnacle points during the pandemic, when sailing on a cruise ship was even more ill-advised, to catapult themselves into Pinnacle status.

Because of the importance of the inaugural voyage of the world’s largest cruise liner, more than 200 Pinnacles are on this ship, a startling number, it seems. Mrs. Palo Alto takes out a golden badge that I have seen affixed over many a breast, which reads CROWN AND ANCHOR SOCIETY along with her name. This is the coveted badge of the Pinnacle. “You should hear all the whining in Guest Services,” her husband tells me. Apparently, the Pinnacles who are not also Suites like us are all trying to use their status to get into Coastal Kitchen, our elite restaurant. Even a Pinnacle needs to be a Suite to access this level of corned-beef hash.

“We’re just baby Pinnacles,” Mrs. Palo Alto tells me, describing a kind of internal class struggle among the Pinnacle elite for ever higher status.

And now I understand what the maître d’ was saying to me on the first day of my cruise. He wasn’t saying “ pendejo .” He was saying “Pinnacle.” The dining room was for Pinnacles only, all those older people rolling in like the tide on their motorized scooters.

And now I understand something else: This whole thing is a cult. And like most cults, it can’t help but mirror the endless American fight for status. Like Keith Raniere’s NXIVM, where different-colored sashes were given out to connote rank among Raniere’s branded acolytes, this is an endless competition among Pinnacles, Suites, Diamond-Plusers, and facing-the-mall, no-balcony purple SeaPass Card peasants, not to mention the many distinctions within each category. The more you cruise, the higher your status. No wonder a section of the Royal Promenade is devoted to getting passengers to book their next cruise during the one they should be enjoying now. No wonder desperate Royal Caribbean offers (“FINAL HOURS”) crowded my email account weeks before I set sail. No wonder the ship’s jewelry store, the Royal Bling, is selling a $100,000 golden chalice that will entitle its owner to drink free on Royal Caribbean cruises for life. (One passenger was already gaming out whether her 28-year-old son was young enough to “just about earn out” on the chalice or if that ship had sailed.) No wonder this ship was sold out months before departure , and we had to pay $19,000 for a horrid suite away from the Suite Neighborhood. No wonder the most mythical hero of Royal Caribbean lore is someone named Super Mario, who has cruised so often, he now has his own working desk on many ships. This whole experience is part cult, part nautical pyramid scheme.

From the June 2014 issue: Ship of wonks

“The toilets are amazing,” the Palo Altos are telling me. “One flush and you’re done.” “They don’t understand how energy-efficient these ships are,” the husband of the other couple is telling me. “They got the LNG”—liquefied natural gas, which is supposed to make the Icon a boon to the environment (a concept widely disputed and sometimes ridiculed by environmentalists).

But I’m thinking along a different line of attack as I spear my last pallid slice of melon. For my streaming limited series, a Pinnacle would have to get killed by either an outright peasant or a Suite without an ocean view. I tell my breakfast companions my idea.

“Oh, for sure a Pinnacle would have to be killed,” Mr. Palo Alto, the Pandemic Pinnacle, says, touching his porn mustache thoughtfully as his wife nods.

“THAT’S RIGHT, IT’S your time, buddy!” Hubert, my fun-loving Panamanian cabin attendant, shouts as I step out of my suite in a robe. “Take it easy, buddy!”

I have come up with a new dressing strategy. Instead of trying to impress with my choice of T-shirts, I have decided to start wearing a robe, as one does at a resort property on land, with a proper spa and hammam. The response among my fellow cruisers has been ecstatic. “Look at you in the robe!” Mr. Rand cries out as we pass each other by the Thrill Island aqua park. “You’re living the cruise life! You know, you really drank me under the table that night.” I laugh as we part ways, but my soul cries out, Please spend more time with me, Mr. and Mrs. Rand; I so need the company .

In my white robe, I am a stately presence, a refugee from a better limited series, a one-man crossover episode. (Only Suites are granted these robes to begin with.) Today, I will try many of the activities these ships have on offer to provide their clientele with a sense of never-ceasing motion. Because I am already at Thrill Island, I decide to climb the staircase to what looks like a mast on an old-fashioned ship (terrified, because I am afraid of heights) to try a ride called “Storm Chasers,” which is part of the “Category 6” water park, named in honor of one of the storms that may someday do away with the Port of Miami entirely. Storm Chasers consists of falling from the “mast” down a long, twisting neon tube filled with water, like being the camera inside your own colonoscopy, as you hold on to the handles of a mat, hoping not to die. The tube then flops you down headfirst into a trough of water, a Royal Caribbean baptism. It both knocks my breath out and makes me sad.

In keeping with the aquatic theme, I attend a show at the AquaDome. To the sound of “Live and Let Die,” a man in a harness gyrates to and fro in the sultry air. I saw something very similar in the back rooms of the famed Berghain club in early-aughts Berlin. Soon another harnessed man is gyrating next to the first. Ja , I think to myself, I know how this ends. Now will come the fisting , natürlich . But the show soon devolves into the usual Marvel-film-grade nonsense, with too much light and sound signifying nichts . If any fisting is happening, it is probably in the Suite Neighborhood, inside a cabin marked with an upside-down pineapple, which I understand means a couple are ready to swing, and I will see none of it.

I go to the ice show, which is a kind of homage—if that’s possible—to the periodic table, done with the style and pomp and masterful precision that would please the likes of Kim Jong Un, if only he could afford Royal Caribbean talent. At one point, the dancers skate to the theme song of Succession . “See that!” I want to say to my fellow Suites—at “cultural” events, we have a special section reserved for us away from the commoners—“ Succession ! It’s even better than the zombie show! Open your minds!”

Finally, I visit a comedy revue in an enormous and too brightly lit version of an “intimate,” per Royal Caribbean literature, “Manhattan comedy club.” Many of the jokes are about the cruising life. “I’ve lived on ships for 20 years,” one of the middle-aged comedians says. “I can only see so many Filipino homosexuals dressed as a taco.” He pauses while the audience laughs. “I am so fired tonight,” he says. He segues into a Trump impression and then Biden falling asleep at the microphone, which gets the most laughs. “Anyone here from Fort Leonard Wood?” another comedian asks. Half the crowd seems to cheer. As I fall asleep that night, I realize another connection I have failed to make, and one that may explain some of the diversity on this vessel—many of its passengers have served in the military.

As a coddled passenger with a suite, I feel like I am starting to understand what it means to have a rank and be constantly reminded of it. There are many espresso makers , I think as I look across the expanse of my officer-grade quarters before closing my eyes, but this one is mine .

A shocking sight greets me beyond the pools of Deck 17 as I saunter over to the Coastal Kitchen for my morning intake of slightly sour Americanos. A tiny city beneath a series of perfectly pressed green mountains. Land! We have docked for a brief respite in Basseterre, the capital of St. Kitts and Nevis. I wolf down my egg scramble to be one of the first passengers off the ship. Once past the gangway, I barely refrain from kissing the ground. I rush into the sights and sounds of this scruffy island city, sampling incredible conch curry and buckets of non-Starbucks coffee. How wonderful it is to be where God intended humans to be: on land. After all, I am neither a fish nor a mall rat. This is my natural environment. Basseterre may not be Havana, but there are signs of human ingenuity and desire everywhere you look. The Black Table Grill Has been Relocated to Soho Village, Market Street, Directly Behind of, Gary’s Fruits and Flower Shop. Signed. THE PORK MAN reads a sign stuck to a wall. Now, that is how you write a sign. A real sign, not the come-ons for overpriced Rolexes that blink across the screens of the Royal Promenade.

“Hey, tie your shoestring!” a pair of laughing ladies shout to me across the street.

“Thank you!” I shout back. Shoestring! “Thank you very much.”

A man in Independence Square Park comes by and asks if I want to play with his monkey. I haven’t heard that pickup line since the Penn Station of the 1980s. But then he pulls a real monkey out of a bag. The monkey is wearing a diaper and looks insane. Wonderful , I think, just wonderful! There is so much life here. I email my editor asking if I can remain on St. Kitts and allow the Icon to sail off into the horizon without me. I have even priced a flight home at less than $300, and I have enough material from the first four days on the cruise to write the entire story. “It would be funny …” my editor replies. “Now get on the boat.”

As I slink back to the ship after my brief jailbreak, the locals stand under umbrellas to gaze at and photograph the boat that towers over their small capital city. The limousines of the prime minister and his lackeys are parked beside the gangway. St. Kitts, I’ve been told, is one of the few islands that would allow a ship of this size to dock.

“We hear about all the waterslides,” a sweet young server in one of the cafés told me. “We wish we could go on the ship, but we have to work.”

“I want to stay on your island,” I replied. “I love it here.”

But she didn’t understand how I could possibly mean that.

“WASHY, WASHY, so you don’t get stinky, stinky!” kids are singing outside the AquaDome, while their adult minders look on in disapproval, perhaps worried that Mr. Washy Washy is grooming them into a life of gayness. I heard a southern couple skip the buffet entirely out of fear of Mr. Washy Washy.

Meanwhile, I have found a new watering hole for myself, the Swim & Tonic, the biggest swim-up bar on any cruise ship in the world. Drinking next to full-size, nearly naked Americans takes away one’s own self-consciousness. The men have curvaceous mom bodies. The women are equally un-shy about their sprawling physiques.

Today I’ve befriended a bald man with many children who tells me that all of the little trinkets that Royal Caribbean has left us in our staterooms and suites are worth a fortune on eBay. “Eighty dollars for the water bottle, 60 for the lanyard,” the man says. “This is a cult.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. There is, however, a clientele for whom this cruise makes perfect sense. For a large middle-class family (he works in “supply chains”), seven days in a lower-tier cabin—which starts at $1,800 a person—allow the parents to drop off their children in Surfside, where I imagine many young Filipina crew members will take care of them, while the parents are free to get drunk at a swim-up bar and maybe even get intimate in their cabin. Cruise ships have become, for a certain kind of hardworking family, a form of subsidized child care.

There is another man I would like to befriend at the Swim & Tonic, a tall, bald fellow who is perpetually inebriated and who wears a necklace studded with little rubber duckies in sunglasses, which, I am told, is a sort of secret handshake for cruise aficionados. Tomorrow, I will spend more time with him, but first the ship docks at St. Thomas, in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Charlotte Amalie, the capital, is more charming in name than in presence, but I still all but jump off the ship to score a juicy oxtail and plantains at the well-known Petite Pump Room, overlooking the harbor. From one of the highest points in the small city, the Icon of the Seas appears bigger than the surrounding hills.

I usually tan very evenly, but something about the discombobulation of life at sea makes me forget the regular application of sunscreen. As I walk down the streets of Charlotte Amalie in my fluorescent Icon of the Seas cap, an old Rastafarian stares me down. “Redneck,” he hisses.

“No,” I want to tell him, as I bring a hand up to my red neck, “that’s not who I am at all. On my island, Mannahatta, as Whitman would have it, I am an interesting person living within an engaging artistic milieu. I do not wish to use the Caribbean as a dumping ground for the cruise-ship industry. I love the work of Derek Walcott. You don’t understand. I am not a redneck. And if I am, they did this to me.” They meaning Royal Caribbean? Its passengers? The Rands?

“They did this to me!”

Back on the Icon, some older matrons are muttering about a run-in with passengers from the Celebrity cruise ship docked next to us, the Celebrity Apex. Although Celebrity Cruises is also owned by Royal Caribbean, I am made to understand that there is a deep fratricidal beef between passengers of the two lines. “We met a woman from the Apex,” one matron says, “and she says it was a small ship and there was nothing to do. Her face was as tight as a 19-year-old’s, she had so much surgery.” With those words, and beneath a cloudy sky, humidity shrouding our weathered faces and red necks, we set sail once again, hopefully in the direction of home.

THERE ARE BARELY 48 HOURS LEFT to the cruise, and the Icon of the Seas’ passengers are salty. They know how to work the elevators. They know the Washy Washy song by heart. They understand that the chicken gyro at “Feta Mediterranean,” in the AquaDome Market, is the least problematic form of chicken on the ship.

The passengers have shed their INAUGURAL CRUISE T-shirts and are now starting to evince political opinions. There are caps pledging to make America great again and T-shirts that celebrate words sometimes attributed to Patrick Henry: “The Constitution is not an instrument for the government to restrain the people; it is an instrument for the people to restrain the government.” With their preponderance of FAMILY FLAG FAITH FRIENDS FIREARMS T-shirts, the tables by the crepe station sometimes resemble the Capitol Rotunda on January 6. The Real Anthony Fauci , by Robert F. Kennedy Jr., appears to be a popular form of literature, especially among young men with very complicated versions of the American flag on their T-shirts. Other opinions blend the personal and the political. “Someone needs to kill Washy guy, right?” a well-dressed man in the elevator tells me, his gray eyes radiating nothing. “Just beat him to death. Am I right?” I overhear the male member of a young couple whisper, “There goes that freak” as I saunter by in my white spa robe, and I decide to retire it for the rest of the cruise.

I visit the Royal Bling to see up close the $100,000 golden chalice that entitles you to free drinks on Royal Caribbean forever. The pleasant Serbian saleslady explains that the chalice is actually gold-plated and covered in white zirconia instead of diamonds, as it would otherwise cost $1 million. “If you already have everything,” she explains, “this is one more thing you can get.”

I believe that anyone who works for Royal Caribbean should be entitled to immediate American citizenship. They already speak English better than most of the passengers and, per the Serbian lady’s sales pitch above, better understand what America is as well. Crew members like my Panamanian cabin attendant seem to work 24 hours a day. A waiter from New Delhi tells me that his contract is six months and three weeks long. After a cruise ends, he says, “in a few hours, we start again for the next cruise.” At the end of the half a year at sea, he is allowed a two-to-three-month stay at home with his family. As of 2019, the median income for crew members was somewhere in the vicinity of $20,000, according to a major business publication. Royal Caribbean would not share the current median salary for its crew members, but I am certain that it amounts to a fraction of the cost of a Royal Bling gold-plated, zirconia-studded chalice.

And because most of the Icon’s hyper-sanitized spaces are just a frittata away from being a Delta lounge, one forgets that there are actual sailors on this ship, charged with the herculean task of docking it in port. “Having driven 100,000-ton aircraft carriers throughout my career,” retired Admiral James G. Stavridis, the former NATO Supreme Allied Commander Europe, writes to me, “I’m not sure I would even know where to begin with trying to control a sea monster like this one nearly three times the size.” (I first met Stavridis while touring Army bases in Germany more than a decade ago.)

Today, I decide to head to the hot tub near Swim & Tonic, where some of the ship’s drunkest reprobates seem to gather (the other tubs are filled with families and couples). The talk here, like everywhere else on the ship, concerns football, a sport about which I know nothing. It is apparent that four teams have recently competed in some kind of finals for the year, and that two of them will now face off in the championship. Often when people on the Icon speak, I will try to repeat the last thing they said with a laugh or a nod of disbelief. “Yes, 20-yard line! Ha!” “Oh my God, of course, scrimmage.”

Soon we are joined in the hot tub by the late-middle-age drunk guy with the duck necklace. He is wearing a bucket hat with the legend HAWKEYES , which, I soon gather, is yet another football team. “All right, who turned me in?” Duck Necklace says as he plops into the tub beside us. “I get a call in the morning,” he says. “It’s security. Can you come down to the dining room by 10 a.m.? You need to stay away from the members of this religious family.” Apparently, the gregarious Duck Necklace had photobombed the wrong people. There are several families who present as evangelical Christians or practicing Muslims on the ship. One man, evidently, was not happy that Duck Necklace had made contact with his relatives. “It’s because of religious stuff; he was offended. I put my arm around 20 people a day.”

Everyone laughs. “They asked me three times if I needed medication,” he says of the security people who apparently interrogated him in full view of others having breakfast.

Another hot-tub denizen suggests that he should have asked for fentanyl. After a few more drinks, Duck Necklace begins to muse about what it would be like to fall off the ship. “I’m 62 and I’m ready to go,” he says. “I just don’t want a shark to eat me. I’m a huge God guy. I’m a Bible guy. There’s some Mayan theory squaring science stuff with religion. There is so much more to life on Earth.” We all nod into our Red Stripes.

“I never get off the ship when we dock,” he says. He tells us he lost $6,000 in the casino the other day. Later, I look him up, and it appears that on land, he’s a financial adviser in a crisp gray suit, probably a pillar of his North Chicago community.

THE OCEAN IS TEEMING with fascinating life, but on the surface it has little to teach us. The waves come and go. The horizon remains ever far away.

I am constantly told by my fellow passengers that “everybody here has a story.” Yes, I want to reply, but everybody everywhere has a story. You, the reader of this essay, have a story, and yet you’re not inclined to jump on a cruise ship and, like Duck Necklace, tell your story to others at great pitch and volume. Maybe what they’re saying is that everybody on this ship wants to have a bigger, more coherent, more interesting story than the one they’ve been given. Maybe that’s why there’s so much signage on the doors around me attesting to marriages spent on the sea. Maybe that’s why the Royal Caribbean newsletter slipped under my door tells me that “this isn’t a vacation day spent—it’s bragging rights earned.” Maybe that’s why I’m so lonely.

Today is a big day for Icon passengers. Today the ship docks at Royal Caribbean’s own Bahamian island, the Perfect Day at CocoCay. (This appears to be the actual name of the island.) A comedian at the nightclub opined on what his perfect day at CocoCay would look like—receiving oral sex while learning that his ex-wife had been killed in a car crash (big laughter). But the reality of the island is far less humorous than that.

One of the ethnic tristate ladies in the infinity pool told me that she loved CocoCay because it had exactly the same things that could be found on the ship itself. This proves to be correct. It is like the Icon, but with sand. The same tired burgers, the same colorful tubes conveying children and water from Point A to B. The same swim-up bar at its Hideaway ($140 for admittance, no children allowed; Royal Caribbean must be printing money off its clientele). “There was almost a fight at The Wizard of Oz ,” I overhear an elderly woman tell her companion on a chaise lounge. Apparently one of the passengers began recording Royal Caribbean’s intellectual property and “three guys came after him.”

I walk down a pathway to the center of the island, where a sign reads DO NOT ENTER: YOU HAVE REACHED THE BOUNDARY OF ADVENTURE . I hear an animal scampering in the bushes. A Royal Caribbean worker in an enormous golf cart soon chases me down and takes me back to the Hideaway, where I run into Mrs. Rand in a bikini. She becomes livid telling me about an altercation she had the other day with a woman over a towel and a deck chair. We Suites have special towel privileges; we do not have to hand over our SeaPass Card to score a towel. But the Rands are not Suites. “People are so entitled here,” Mrs. Rand says. “It’s like the airport with all its classes.” “You see,” I want to say, “this is where your husband’s love of Ayn Rand runs into the cruelties and arbitrary indignities of unbridled capitalism.” Instead we make plans to meet for a final drink in the Schooner Bar tonight (the Rands will stand me up).

Back on the ship, I try to do laps, but the pool (the largest on any cruise ship, naturally) is fully trashed with the detritus of American life: candy wrappers, a slowly dissolving tortilla chip, napkins. I take an extra-long shower in my suite, then walk around the perimeter of the ship on a kind of exercise track, past all the alluring lifeboats in their yellow-and-white livery. Maybe there is a dystopian angle to the HBO series that I will surely end up pitching, one with shades of WALL-E or Snowpiercer . In a collapsed world, a Royal Caribbean–like cruise liner sails from port to port, collecting new shipmates and supplies in exchange for the precious energy it has on board. (The actual Icon features a new technology that converts passengers’ poop into enough energy to power the waterslides . In the series, this shitty technology would be greatly expanded.) A very young woman (18? 19?), smart and lonely, who has only known life on the ship, walks along the same track as I do now, contemplating jumping off into the surf left by its wake. I picture reusing Duck Necklace’s words in the opening shot of the pilot. The girl is walking around the track, her eyes on the horizon; maybe she’s highborn—a Suite—and we hear the voice-over: “I’m 19 and I’m ready to go. I just don’t want a shark to eat me.”

Before the cruise is finished, I talk to Mr. Washy Washy, or Nielbert of the Philippines. He is a sweet, gentle man, and I thank him for the earworm of a song he has given me and for keeping us safe from the dreaded norovirus. “This is very important to me, getting people to wash their hands,” he tells me in his burger getup. He has dreams, as an artist and a performer, but they are limited in scope. One day he wants to dress up as a piece of bacon for the morning shift.

THE MAIDEN VOYAGE OF THE TITANIC (the Icon of the Seas is five times as large as that doomed vessel) at least offered its passengers an exciting ending to their cruise, but when I wake up on the eighth day, all I see are the gray ghosts that populate Miami’s condo skyline. Throughout my voyage, my writer friends wrote in to commiserate with me. Sloane Crosley, who once covered a three-day spa mini-cruise for Vogue , tells me she felt “so very alone … I found it very untethering.” Gideon Lewis-Kraus writes in an Instagram comment: “When Gary is done I think it’s time this genre was taken out back and shot.” And he is right. To badly paraphrase Adorno: After this, no more cruise stories. It is unfair to put a thinking person on a cruise ship. Writers typically have difficult childhoods, and it is cruel to remind them of the inherent loneliness that drove them to writing in the first place. It is also unseemly to write about the kind of people who go on cruises. Our country does not provide the education and upbringing that allow its citizens an interior life. For the creative class to point fingers at the large, breasty gentlemen adrift in tortilla-chip-laden pools of water is to gather a sour harvest of low-hanging fruit.

A day or two before I got off the ship, I decided to make use of my balcony, which I had avoided because I thought the view would only depress me further. What I found shocked me. My suite did not look out on Central Park after all. This entire time, I had been living in the ship’s Disneyland, Surfside, the neighborhood full of screaming toddlers consuming milkshakes and candy. And as I leaned out over my balcony, I beheld a slight vista of the sea and surf that I thought I had been missing. It had been there all along. The sea was frothy and infinite and blue-green beneath the span of a seagull’s wing. And though it had been trod hard by the world’s largest cruise ship, it remained.

This article appears in the May 2024 print edition with the headline “A Meatball at Sea.” When you buy a book using a link on this page, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.

Eight passengers stranded on African island after Norwegian cruise ship left without them

A dream cruise vacation has turned into a nightmare for eight passengers left stranded on the African island of São Tomé and Príncipe after their ship left without them because they were late to return from a private tour.

The tourists — six from the U.S. and two from Australia — were aboard the Norwegian Dawn, a Norwegian cruise line ship , which departed from Cape Town, South Africa, on March 20 for a 21-day voyage up the coast of Africa set to end in Barcelona, Spain, on April 10.

But on Wednesday, the group of eight tourists was late to return to the ship by more than an hour for the all-aboard time of 3 p.m. from a private excursion on the island, which was not organized by the cruise line.

Jay and Jill Campbell of South Carolina were part of the group that was left behind.

They said that their tour’s operator notified the cruise captain that they were going to be late to rejoin the ship and that the local Coast Guard tried to get them on the vessel but that they weren’t allowed to board.

As a result, the couple and the rest of the group have been stranded for days on the island off Nigeria, grappling with language, currency issues and complicated travel to catch up with the ship.

“The lovely people of São Tomé were very gracious, very hospitable. They had reached out as much as they could to help us find hotels,” Jay Campbell said on NBC's "TODAY" show Tuesday morning.

“We were able to get to a tour agency there to arrange flights to the next port of call. ... Very difficult process — you’re dealing with multiple languages, language barriers, you’re dealing with different currencies ... finding someone that even has dollars ... trying to get an agent to understand where we need to get to.

"It’s one of those ‘You can’t get there from here,’" he added.

A Norwegian spokesperson called the incident a “very unfortunate situation” and said, “Guests are responsible for ensuring they return to the ship at the published time.”

The cruise line said that after the guests failed to return, their passports were delivered to local port agents, in line with protocol. The company said it was working with local authorities to understand “the requirements and visas needed for the guests to reboard the ship at the next available port of call.”

On Monday, the guests had made arrangements to rejoin the ship in Banjul, Gambia, but the ship was unable to safely dock there because of “adverse weather conditions” and “tidal restrictions,” Norwegian said. The guests were then contacted and provided with information to rejoin the ship at Dakar, Senegal, on Tuesday. 

Jill Campbell said they traveled through seven countries in 48 hours to arrive in Senegal on Monday night.

But the couple was reconsidering whether they even wanted to return to the cruise.

"We are considering whether or not we are going to board the ship. It is in dock here in Senegal," she said. "We believe there was a basic duty of care that they had forgotten about, so it does concern us."

"After what we witnessed, we truly believe that although there’s a set of rules or policies that the ship may have followed, they followed those rules too rigidly. I believe that they really forgot that they are people working in the hospitality industry and really the safety and well-being of the customers should be their first priority," she added.

Ultimately, the eight passengers did rejoin the cruise before 8:30 a.m. ET Tuesday in Dakar, Senegal, Norwegian told NBC News in an e-mail Tuesday evening, after this story originally published.

Norwegian said the passengers were responsible for making their own travel arrangements to rejoin the ship.

"Despite the series of unfortunate events outside of our control, we will be reimbursing these eight guests for their travel costs from Banjur, Gambia to Dakar, Senegal," a cruise line spokesperson said in a statement. "We remain in communication with the guests and are providing additional information as it becomes available."

A silver lining of the catastrophe was that the Campbells were able to connect with another Norwegian Dawn passenger — Julia Lenkoff, 80 — who was also left on the island, but for a medical reason.

Lenkoff was on a different day tour Wednesday. She had "medically disembarked" from the cruise to seek local treatment on that day, Norwegian said.

Norwegian said that its care team tried to call Lenkoff several times and was unable to reach her and that it worked with its port agent in São Tomé and Príncipe for updates on her health.

The Campbells met Lenkoff and were able to put her in contact with her family in California, who flew her home — a move Lenkoff's daughter said "saved her life."

"She's a world traveler. She travels all the time. So this was going to be one of her bucket list trips, because she's been to 120 countries so far, and she wanted to get to 130," her daughter, Lana Lenkoff Geis, said in an interview that aired Tuesday on "TODAY."

Norwegian said Lenkoff was escorted on a flight to Lisbon, Portugal, then put in the care of airport staff members to continue her journey back to the U.S., where she has safely returned.

Breaking News Reporter

Expedia Rewards is now One Key™

Visit lyubertsy, check lyubertsy hotel availability, popular places to visit.

You can learn about the history of Moscow with a trip to Red Square. Experience the area's fascinating museums and acclaimed theater scene.

• Moscow Kremlin

Visit the most iconic square in Russia, which is bordered by many of the city’s most famous landmarks.

• Bolshoi Theatre

A centerpiece of the Russian arts scene, this theater’s magnificent auditorium and top-tier productions will impress even the most jaded theatergoer.

• St. Basil's Cathedral

Think of Russia and you probably picture this iconic building, whose onion-shaped domes overlook the Moscow skyline.

• Lenin's Mausoleum

Mourners and curious visitors stream to the grave to see the embalmed Vladimir Lenin, the famous revolutionary and one-time leader of the Soviet Union.

• Armoury Chamber

Visit one of Moscow’s oldest and most revered museums and discover more about Russian royal life and military history.

• Cities near Lyubertsy

Dzerzhinskiy

• Places of interest
• Moscow City
• Arbat Street
• Exhibition of Achievements of National Economy
• State Historical Museum
• Moscow State University
• Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts
• State Tretyakov Gallery
• Cathedral of Christ the Savior
• Ministry of Foreign Affairs
• Victory Park
• New Tretyakov Gallery - Museum of Modern Art
• Minin and Pozharsky Monument
• Luzhniki Stadium
• Ostankino TV Tower
• Sparrow Hills
• Triumphal Arch
• Multimedia Art Museum
• Russian White House
• Novodevichy Convent
• Cathedral of the Archangel

• Search Please fill out this field.
• Manage Your Subscription
• Give a Gift Subscription
• Newsletters
• Sweepstakes

8 Norwegian Cruise Passengers Stranded on African Island Catch Up to Ship After Traversing 7 Countries

The group of stranded American and Australian passengers included four elderly people, one with a heart condition and a pregnant woman

Natalia Senanayake is an Editorial Assistant, Lifestyle at PEOPLE. She covers all things travel and home, from celebrities' luxury mansions to breaking travel news.

Sipa via AP

• Nine Norwegian Cruise Line passengers were reportedly left behind on the African island of São Tomé and Príncipe on March 27 
• The group was on a guided excursion that got delayed, leading them to miss the ship’s "all aboard" call 
• A statement from Norwegian Cruise Lines noted that all guests are responsible for returning to the docked ship at the designated call time 
• Eight people were able to catch up to the ship on Tuesday morning after reportedly traversing seven countries.
• One, who had fallen ill before the incident, has safely returned to the U.S.

Multiple passengers were stranded on an island in Africa after their Norwegian Cruise Line ship reportedly left them behind. After several days of uncertainty and a trek across seven countries, they're now back on board the vessel.

On Wednesday, March 27, South Carolina couple Jill and Jay Campbell were enjoying a guided tour on the island of São Tomé and Príncipe located off the continent's western coast, ABC15 News reported at the time. The pair was with six other American and Australian passengers when they realized they wouldn’t make it back to the ship on time due to their tour taking longer than planned.

Though the tour operator contacted the cruise ship’s captain to inform them of the delay, the captain refused to let them back on the still-anchored ship when they arrived at the port because it was after the "all aboard" call, per the outlet. 

The São Tomé and Príncipe Coast Guard allegedly then took them by boat directly to the ship where the captain again did not permit them to board. 

The group later encountered another stranded passenger, an 80-year-old woman, who was hospitalized on the island after a cruise line tour, the outlet stated. The woman reportedly experienced memory and vision loss due to a medical emergency. 

In addition to the ill passenger, the group also includes one person who is pregnant, one with a heart condition and four elderly travelers. 

The majority of the group left their medications and credit cards on the ship except for the Campbells, who have reportedly paid over $5,000 for food, accommodations, and other necessities for their fellow passengers. 

On Sunday, the U.S. Embassy in Angola allegedly arranged for the group to fly to the West African country of Gambia, the ship's next planned port of call, so they could reboard. 

Google Maps

Unfortunately, the group discovered the cruise ship wasn’t docked at the port in Gambia as planned because it had to spend another day at sea due to low tides. ABC News 4 reports the passengers spent fifteen hours traveling through six countries to make it to the port on Sunday. 

“We have to cross the ferry to get into Senegal,” Campbell told the outlet on Monday, marking their seventh country. “We just learned from the gentleman that the ferry hadn’t been working, but he said no problem, if the ferry is not working we will get another little boat and then pick up a car on the other side. And then once we get on the other side of Senegal, it’s another four-hour drive.” 

In a statement to PEOPLE, Norwegian Cruise Line said, “On the afternoon of March 27, 2024, while the ship was in São Tomé and Príncipe, an African island nation, eight guests who were on the island on a private tour not organized through us missed the last tender back to the vessel, therefore not meeting the all aboard time of 3 p.m. local time."

The statement continued, “While this is a very unfortunate situation, guests are responsible for ensuring they return to the ship at the published time, which is communicated broadly over the ship’s intercom, in the daily print communication and posted just before exiting the vessel.”

Never miss a story — sign up for PEOPLE's free daily newsletter to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer, from juicy celebrity news to compelling human interest stories. 

The cruise line added that guests are “responsible for any necessary travel arrangements” to meet the ship at the next port and that they had each of their passports “delivered to the local port agents to retrieve” when they missed their all aboard call.

The group was finally able to catch up to the vessel. They reached Dakar, Senegal, its next port, on Monday night, PEOPLE confirmed.

After what they'd been through, Jill told NBC News in a story published on Tuesday, "We are considering whether or not we are going to board the ship. We believe there was a basic duty of care that they had forgotten about, so it does concern us." While she allowed that Norwegian technically followed protocol, she says, "I believe that they really forgot that they are people working in the hospitality industry and really the safety and well-being of the customers should be their first priority."

On Tuesday morning, the eight passengers, less the person who had fallen ill and later safely returned home to the United States, chose to board the cruise. Norwegian confirmed the news to PEOPLE in a statement.

"Despite the series of unfortunate events outside of our control, we will be reimbursing these eight guests for their travel costs from Banjur, Gambia to Dakar, Senegal. We remain in communication with the guests and are providing additional information as it becomes available,"

The Norwegian Dawn departed from Cape Town, South Africa, on March 20 for a 21-day trip that will end in Barcelona on April 10.

Related Articles

Major Russian missile factory goes up in flames after latest Ukrainian drone strike

The attack happened in Lyubertsy near Moscow, while the capital's Mayor Serhiy Sobyanin announced on the Telegram messaging app that the Russian air defences stopped another attempted attack

• 09:18, 1 Sep 2023
• Updated 12:05, 1 Sep 2023

A Russian missile factory has been set on fire after an alleged Ukrainian drone attack, the latest in a string of retaliatory attacks across the border.

The attack happened at the Tomilinsky Electronic Plant in Lyubertsy near Moscow, while the capital's Mayor Serhiy Sobyanin announced on the Telegram messaging app that the Russian air defences stopped another attempted attack. The attack is another major blow to Putin as Ukraine ramps up its drone attacks on aggressor nation Russia. The extent of casualties and damage was not immediately clear. Sobyanin wrote: "Near Lyubertsy, another attempt to fly a drone to Moscow was stopped. There were no injuries or damage. Emergency services are working at the scene. Thanks to the military for not letting us spoil the Day of Knowledge!"

The Ukrainian defence ministry claimed the fire at the missile electronics plant was from a drone, according to a report in Kyiv. "It was the Ukrainian Ministry of Defence operation, it was a success and there will be more", said a source according to Ukrainskaya Pravda.

Ukraine has stepped up its cross-border attacks in recent months, seemingly in retaliation for the ongoing war in Ukraine. Ukraine has not commented on this specific attack and almost never claims public responsibility for such attacks. An attack on May 30, which Ukraine hasn't claimed responsibility for, marked the first time the capital had been hit in a large-scale drone strike since the war began.

Andriy Yusov, a spokesperson for Ukraine's military intelligence, told the Kyiv Post in July that the fact that drones have been able to reach Russia's capital testifies to the fact that the Putin regime is unable to fully control the sky even for the protection of the most important facilities."

Intelligence spokesman Andrey Yusov said of this latest attack: "A workshop producing electronics for missiles is on fire. Why it burns and who made it burn, we do not comment. But the fact is it is burning. And the statements of representatives of the Moscow authorities that they shot down something do not correspond to reality."

Elsewhere in Russia , there was another barrage of kamikaze drone attacks with claims that the nuclear plant town Kurchatov in the Kursk region had been hit. Two UAVs hit an administrative and residential building in Kurchatov, claimed Governor Roman Starovoyt.

He said: "Investigators are on the scene to assess the extent of the damage." He did not specify any damage to the Kursk nuclear power plant in the town. A video showed a large aerial explosion in the moonlight over Pskov in northern Russia, the scene of a devastating attack earlier this week when two Il-76 transport planes were destroyed, and another pair badly damaged. While new satellite images show the devastation on the military airbase, a key hub of Russian paratroopers.

MORE ON Breaking News Russia Russia Ukraine war

Leading new stories from around the globe.