If you bring more than two pairs of shoes on a cruise, you’ve already lost the mental game. I know, I know. You think you need the flip-flops for the pool, the sneakers for the gym you won’t actually visit, the ‘nice’ shoes for dinner, and maybe those weird water shoes for the rocky beach in Cozumel. Stop it. You’re making your suitcase heavy for no reason, and your cabin steward is going to trip over them every time they try to turn down your bed.
I’ve been on eleven cruises now—mostly Royal Caribbean and NCL, with one very weird stint on a Virgin Voyages ship where I felt about twenty years too old—and I still see people hauling these massive, 50-pound hardshell suitcases through the terminal like they’re moving into the ship permanently. It’s a seven-day trip to the Bahamas, not an expedition to the North Pole. My last bag weighed exactly 31.4 pounds, and I still felt like I had too much stuff.
Stop bringing five pairs of shoes, you’re not a centipede
One pair of decent sneakers you can walk in for four miles, and one pair of loafers or nice sandals. That’s it. That is the whole list. If you think you need more, you’re overthinking the ‘vibe’ of the ship. Most people on a cruise look like they just rolled out of a suburban Costco anyway. Nobody is looking at your feet while you’re standing in line for the soft-serve machine for the third time today.
Speaking of the soft-serve, why is it always slightly melted? I swear, every ship I’ve been on, the vanilla is fine, but the chocolate is basically soup by 2:00 PM. Anyway, back to the shoes. I once saw a guy try to wear those toe-shoes—the Vibram ones—to the main dining room. He got turned away, and honestly? Good. Some things should be illegal.
The cabin bathroom is basically a plastic phone booth where the floor is always slightly damp. Don’t bring your whole vanity.
The “Formal Night” lie we all keep telling ourselves
I used to think you needed a full suit or a cocktail dress for every single dinner. I was completely wrong. I wasted so much space in my 2019 packing list for a Celebrity Edge sailing because I thought the ‘Edge Class’ meant everyone would be dressed like they were at the Met Gala. Instead, I spent the whole week feeling like a waiter because I was the only person in a tie while everyone else wore Tommy Bahama shirts and cargo shorts.
Unless you are a person who genuinely enjoys the theater of dressing up, just bring one pair of dark jeans and a collared shirt. You’ll be fine. I might be wrong about this, but I think the whole ‘Formal Night’ concept is slowly dying, and we should let it. It’s an unnecessary stressor in an environment that is supposed to be about unlimited shrimp cocktail and sitting in a hot tub with strangers.
The $65 belt incident and why the gift shop is your enemy
I have a specific rule: I refuse to buy anything in the ship’s ‘Logo Shop’ or the duty-free boutique. It’s all overpriced garbage designed to prey on people who forgot the basics. Back in April 2023, on the Wonder of the Seas, I realized five minutes before dinner that I’d forgotten a belt. I had to pay $65 for a ‘genuine leather’ belt in the gift shop that smelled like chemically treated goat and started peeling by the time we hit Perfect Day at CocoCay.
Pack these small things so you don’t get robbed by the gift shop:
- A small bottle of Ibuprofen (they charge like $12 for four pills on board).
- Magnetic hooks—actually, wait, no. I hate those.
- A multi-port USB charger (I use an old Aukey one I’ve had for three years).
- Sunscreen that doesn’t cost a mortgage payment.
Actually, let me rephrase that about the magnetic hooks. Everyone on the internet screams about how ‘essential’ they are for hanging your hat or your wet swimsuit on the metal cabin walls. I bought a pack of six high-rated ones on Amazon before my last trip. Total lie. They couldn’t even hold up a damp lanyard without sliding down the wall like a sad snail. Unless you’re buying industrial-grade magnets that could rip a pacemaker out of a chest, don’t bother. Just use the back of the chair like a normal person.
The tech stuff that actually matters
What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently: your cabin isn’t a walk-in closet, it’s a glorified submarine bunk. You don’t need a laptop. You don’t need a tablet AND an e-reader. Just use your phone. The only tech thing I genuinely insist on is a non-surge-protected power strip. Most ships will confiscate your regular home power strip because of fire hazards, which I found out the hard way in Miami when a security officer took mine and gave me a little yellow slip instead. It felt like being sent to the principal’s office.
I also have a weird, probably irrational hatred for the Yeti Rambler bottles everyone carries on deck. They are heavy, they take up a ton of room in your carry-on, and they make a deafening CLANG every time someone drops one on the lido deck. I’ve started bringing a cheap, collapsible silicone bottle. It tastes a bit like rubber, but at least I’m not hauling a two-pound steel brick around St. Maarten.
The “I’m probably wrong but I’m saying it anyway” section
Here is my most controversial take: You don’t need to tip the porters at the pier if your bag is under 30 pounds. I know people will disagree, and they’ll say I’m being cheap, but they are literally moving a suitcase ten feet to a metal cage. If I can carry it from the parking garage, I can put it in the bin myself. I’ve started just carrying my own bag onto the ship (self-assist) to avoid the whole ‘waiting for your luggage until 8:00 PM’ drama. It’s faster, it’s free, and I don’t have to worry about my bag being the one that accidentally ends up in the drink.
Packing for a seven-day itinerary is like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube where the stickers keep peeling off. You think you have it figured out, then you realize you packed six pairs of underwear but seven pairs of socks. Why? Nobody knows. Human error is part of the process.
I also think people who wear matching family t-shirts with ‘The Miller Family Cruise 2024’ in neon font should be relegated to the lower decks, but that’s a rant for another day. It’s just… why? We know you’re together. You’re all arguing about where to eat lunch.
Just bring the basics. Wear your heaviest shoes on the plane. Don’t buy the $65 goat belt.
Do I actually need to bring my own snorkel gear next time, or is the rental stuff really that gross? I still haven’t decided.