Don't Miss the Boat
Booking at the last minute means you can cruise without paying top dollar. As for having a good time . . . well, you're on your own.

By Cindy Loose
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, October 8, 2006

Early September and a cold rain is pelting the dying petunias in the yard; water is backing up on the brick patio I used maybe twice this whole year. Soon I'll be ankle-deep in dead leaves and still up to my neck in deadlines. Where did the summer go?

South, I realize. It's simply gone south, and I can go there, too. I close my e-mail message screen and start pulling up online travel sites.

Ten days later, I'm squinting in the brilliant sunshine of Miami, a sea breeze rustling my hair as I prepare to board a four-night cruise on Carnival's Imagination, an 855-foot-long ship that holds 2,052 passengers and more than 900 staff. Every Carnival ship is said to be a "fun ship," which signals a certain party atmosphere.

I haven't done as travel agents recommend -- talk to them and match my personality with that of the ship so that I will "have a great experience, rather than just a trip on a ship," as agent Heather Dolan of Democracy Travel in the District puts it. (Used to be you'd pick a particular cruise line to get a certain experience, and while that still holds to some degree, the differences among ships within a line can be greater than differences among lines, the experts say.)

But I'm not feeling particular; I simply want to get away. I have three criteria: sunny, cheap and soon.

As to the cheap part, I'm in luck on two related fronts: It's not peak season, and cruise lines are going to be eager enough about filling empty cabins to slash prices even further. In fact, at every Web site where I ask for a four- or five-night Caribbean cruise in what remains of September, I come up with at least a dozen bargains. I like the ports of call -- Key West and Mexico's Riviera Maya -- offered on the Imagination. And I like the advertised price: $179 per person double for a four-night cruise. The lowest per-person price for this same trip over Christmas: $739. September 2007: $399.

All cruise prices are based on double occupancy, and I call an agent at Cruise.com, expecting the price for my solitary self to nearly double. Not so for last-minute cruising. Total price: $262. (Over Christmas week, the same solo cruise and cabin type would cost $1,359. September 2007: $679.)

The port fees and taxes included in my total are more than the cruise itself. Carnival is getting a mere $30 a day from the deal -- about the price I pay to go to work, what with parking fees and lunch.

The term "last-minute," by the way, applies to bookings of 59 days or less in cruise parlance. Why 59 days at the outside? Because cruisers who book in advance must make final payment 60 days in advance. The day after that, the cruise line knows exactly how many cabins it must unload and starts discounting.

They're never going to give a berth away, but they'll slash their rates on whatever cabins they have left, hoping you'll spend some serious money after getting on board. Carolyn Spencer Brown, editor of Cruisecritic.com, an interactive online cruise advice site, explains it succinctly: "An empty cabin doesn't buy a spa treatment, or go on an excursion, or gamble, drink or covet jewelry."

Actually, that description of an empty cabin sounds a lot like me. I'm dreaming of the kind of relaxation that involves late mornings in bed, with no dog to walk and no child to get to school, afternoons with a book and water views, and evenings that involve nothing more than not making dinner or arguing about the cleanup. Good luck to anyone hoping to make extra money on that.

Don't I Look Like I'm Fun?

That first night finds me in the casino playing the quarter slots. I know, I'm not a gambler. But neither am I a Vegas-type show person, and that's tonight's entertainment. It takes me more than an hour to lose $10, and by then I've lost interest in even trying to lose my other roll of quarters.

So I stroll over to the karaoke bar, just to watch.

Under normal circumstances I'd be happy to just go to my room and read. I've brought four books and am looking forward to each of them. But something was said at dinner tonight that made me feel I should reach beyond my mundane old-fogy desires.

I had sat down at the table figuring I'd connect with someone, as I usually do when traveling alone. The middle-aged woman treating her parents to a 50th-wedding-anniversary trip didn't seem a likely prospect for companionship. I liked the woman from Argentina traveling alone, but her speaking no English and my limited Spanish were problematic.

The only part of my Spanish that isn't rusty is the part I've recently reviewed while helping my ninth-grade daughter study for tests. If the subject of school supplies or objects in a classroom happen to come up, I'm ready to chat. Otherwise, once the Argentine and I exchanged information about our children, our origins and our jobs -- she's been working as a maid in a Miami hotel for five years -- we were pretty much done.

That left at my table three Houston women traveling together to celebrate the 50th birthday of one of them, Kathy. Soon after the appetizers arrived, Kathy's friend Di said, "I'll party with anyone who's fun" -- and she didn't look my way.

It was then I realized I probably don't seem like a fun person at all. Kathy pretty much clinched my impression an hour later, during dessert, when she said a bit resentfully, "We never meet anyone interesting on these cruises."

So tonight, even though I'm alone and no one's watching, I'm determined to prove I can be fun, and fun in the way outlined in the ship's events calendar. In fact, now that I'm at the karaoke bar, I'm going to sign up to perform.

For that, I'll need probably two margaritas. But since I don't drink often, it turns out one is enough. When my name is called, I walk right up and belt out the Beatles' "When I'm 64." Not a great song choice, as Paula Abdul would say, but it's the only one among thousands that I'm sure about how the tune goes.

People actually clap. One woman stands to cheer and yells that I was terrific, which makes me feel great until I realize she's really drunk.

But no matter; I think I've showed enough capacity for fun that I've earned the right to rush to my room to catch Larry King's interview with former New Jersey Gov. James McGreevey on CNN.

A Cutthroat Market

Key West's old town, despite being overrun with tourists, remains a charming place that has kept the same small-town ambience and beauty that brought Ernest Hemingway here in 1928 for some of his most productive years.

I'd thought about signing up for a cruise excursion, but I like the idea of being on my own after so much togetherness on board; plus, strolling is free. Actually, I do let go of a few musty dollars seeing Hemingway's house and the typewriter where he worked on, among other things, "For Whom the Bell Tolls," "To Have and Have Not" and short stories such as "The Snows of Kilimanjaro."

The home, built in 1851, is filled with the original furniture and replicas of the artwork Hemingway and one of his several wives collected during their sojourns in Paris. The flowering gardens are home to 60 of the cats that are the progeny of Hemingway's cats.

I've got my own snorkel gear, and Fort Zachary Taylor beach is a short cab ride from old town. In this forever-summer place, the water is still 78 degrees.

Back on the ship, on the pool deck, I meet Evelyn, who like me is traveling alone and bought her cruise at the last minute. Her husband, a Key West fisherman, doesn't like to travel. She works in the Key West tourism industry, and when things got slow a week earlier, she decided to book, drive to Miami and board the Imagination. Today, when the ship docked in Key West, she just stayed on board.

Turns out she paid the exact price I paid for the cruise, and we congratulate ourselves on finding such a great price for a room for four nights plus four square meals a day and endless snacks. Although neither of us has yet to use the well-equipped exercise room, we intend to.

Like me, she ended up with a free upgrade. We each still have an interior room, meaning no window, but the cabins have big double beds instead of bunks. I rather like the lack of windows; it makes for a very cozy, dark space for sleeping.

Of course, booking last minute has some drawbacks. The more particular you are about destinations and types of ships and styles of rooms, the further out you should book. If you must have a balcony suite, for example, know that the best rooms tend to go first and book accordingly.

In peak season -- the summer months for Alaska, Europe and family-friendly Caribbean cruises -- shopping last minute can leave you with very little choice. Cruisecritic's Brown, for example, says a colleague who wanted adjoining suites for her family on a Mediterranean cruise was having a tough time finding a ship even six months out. In fact, travel agents last week began warning that if you want an Alaska cruise next summer, better act now. But last-minute Caribbean cruises from September until just before Christmas are like treasures waiting to be uncovered by bargain hunters.

The Caribbean is already a cutthroat market, but booking last minute can still save you 30 percent or more. European cruises tend to be more expensive to begin with, so the dollar savings can be even larger. For example, the day I searched for Caribbean cruises I took a peek at European options. I found an Oceania cruise of the Mediterranean, 12 nights in September, including round-trip airfare, for $1,799. Then I checked the same cruise, same cabin for the same time next year: The cruise will be 10 nights -- two fewer nights -- for $2,199, airfare not included.

Such bargains are common during the off-peak season if you have some flexibility about when you go. However, "it's risky if you're bound to a certain time frame," warned agent Lynda Maxwell of Destinations Inc. in Ellicott City.

Also, before committing to a last-minute cruise, you need to be sure there's a decent airfare to get you to the port.

Flattery Will Get You . . .

The three women who like to party with anyone who's fun still haven't invited me, three days into the five-day cruise, to join them for anything. But at the new port in Mexico's Riviera Maya, I end up sharing a 10-minute, $10 cab ride into Playa del Carmen with an elderly couple who eagerly accept my proposal to share my cab.

I know this town well but am too busy chatting with the driver to notice that he's dropping us about five blocks from the beach, which also is where the main tourist shops and restaurants are. I worry that the couple won't make it over the broken sidewalks to the better part of town and offer to guide them to where I'm sure they'll want to be.

Maybe I scared them, or maybe they didn't consider me fun, either. All I know is that the wife ducked inside the first store we passed. The husband made it clear they weren't planning to go in my direction, saying from the doorway, "We don't want to go to the beach."

I feel relieved of my self-imposed responsibility and happily settle at an outdoor table of a nice restaurant on the beach. I'm minding my own business when a British guy at least 20 years my junior at the next table asks if he can join me. He says he's a golf pro and is in Playa to check out a new course. I take a rather motherly interest in this handsome young man, who seems a bit lonely. It seems a little odd when he suggests that we take a swim, but there aren't any lifeguards in sight, so the buddy system seems like a good idea.

We head into the waves, and soon he makes it clear his interest is more Oedipal than innocent. Like any faithful wife, I'm still capable of being flattered by attention, but no thanks. I say I'm going to go arrange a snorkel tour. He warns me that a lot of the boat operators on the beach aren't insured and that their safety might be questionable. I say I'm not worried.

In fact, though, he has made a good point: I should have paid a little extra to book through the cruise line, which vets operators. Still, I pretend to be heading down the beach for a trip, but when well away, find total contentment by renting a beach chair and umbrella. I happily while away my remaining shore hours with a Hemingway biography I picked up in Key West.

Back on the Imagination, I've missed the early dinner seating to which I've been assigned, but the maitre d' finds me a place at a later seating. A little girl at the table says she has so many cousins she can't count them all, and this begins a conversation between me and her father about his large family. He asks about my family, and I tell him I'm married and have one child.

"Don't take this personally," he says, "but I think it's mean to have only one child. They need brothers and sisters; it's very important."

"How could I not take that personally?" I retort, before leaving the table, even though my dinner had been ordered.

I head to the pool deck and gather some food from the buffet. The thing about cruises is, if you don't like the people you find yourself dining with, you can just move. With a bit of luck, you'll find someone more to your liking -- like maybe yourself.

Epilogue

The best thing about a last-minute cruise, beyond the remarkable savings possible, is the feeling of savoir-faire it gives you: I might seem an uptight Washington establishment type, but did you hear how I pulled this devil-may-care, I'm-getting-out-of-here thing?

Then again, even last minute, I could have spent a little more time thinking about the personality of the ship I was taking. At the risk of seeming a snob, a ship with a hairy chest contest is probably going to provide little more than, as Democracy Travel's Dolan puts it, "a trip on a ship."

Back home, I call travel agent Maxwell and ask what type of cruise she would have recommended for me, had I taken a few minutes to call her in advance.

The very short Caribbean trips on older Carnival ships -- anything built in the 1990s is considered an ark in the cruise world -- tend to attract a higher-than-usual ratio of cruisers from the beer-and-tank-top crowd, she says. She figures me as more of a white wine type, and says she would have suggested Celebrity or Holland America as both affordable and sophisticated -- this, of course, assuming I can't afford the real high-end lines, such as Regent Seven Seas.

That's no doubt sound advice. Last week, with little effort, I found last-minute seven-day Caribbean cruises on Holland America for as low as $461 per person for an ocean-view cabin for next month. Celebrity had five nights starting at $299, same time frame.

But even if I wasn't on the perfectly matched cruise, I've arrived home relaxed. With those few extra laid-back summer days under my belt, along with a couple of midnight buffets, I'm enjoying the beautiful autumn days and looking forward to the changing of the leaves.