A Floating Thesis on American Excess

Amazon Prime and eBay have done a number on the great American shopping malls of our youth—those hallowed halls where we once cruised for uninterested babes and affordable bargains. Even the great “all-you-can-eat” cathedrals like Sweet Tomatoes and Old Country Buffet have mostly shuttered their plate-glass doors.

It begs the question: Where on earth can I take my UK mate, Neville, to witness the unbridled glory of American overconsumption? I want him to see our romance with “supersized excess” in its natural habitat.

Last week, an idea hit me like a determined tugboat. My wife and I joined the family on a five-day Gulf cruise. Friends, let me tell you: if you’re looking for culinary and entertainment foreplay in overwhelming abundance, you’ll find it on the high seas. We’re talking mountains of food, neon-lit “bling,” sarcastic comedy shows, and enough stealthily hidden rubber ducks to populate a small continent.

Flashback: 1980. Neville and I once traveled the Inner Passage on the Alaskan Ferry System. That was our “budget” cruise. No buffets, no staterooms—just sitting in coach and staring at the (admittedly beautiful) glaciers. If Neville joins me for a modern cruise, he’ll have a hell of a reference point for “then vs. now.”

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The Setting: A Floating Mall of America

This wasn’t just a vacation; it was a floating thesis on the American appetite. We set sail from Galveston, Texas, aboard Royal Caribbean’s Allure of the Seas.

Now, I’m not a nautical man. I’m not even entirely sure how to use “aft,” “fore,” “starboard,” or “port” without looking like I’m guessing, but I do tend toward pretentious knowledge when I’m in a pinch. So, here’s a stat for you: our old Alaskan Ferry, the MV Malaspina, weighed about 5,500 tons. The Allure? A casual 225,282 tons.

She carries 6,400 very hungry passengers. It’s essentially the Mall of America strapped to a hull. Every physical need we could possibly imagine was within arm’s reach.

Our Steward: The Hallway Genie

After “mustering” in for safety instructions, we met our room steward, Edward. My wife, never one to be shy about her comfort, immediately channeled her inner royalty. “Fetch me an extra blanket, Farm Boy!” (Okay, maybe she was more polite than that, but she did secure mattress supplements in record time).

Edward became a man of mystery. No matter when we left the cabin, there he was in the hallway, smiling, calling us by name, and asking if we needed a miracle. My wife started to suspect he was either stalking us or living in the walls. Either way, his cheer was infectious. He even left us “towel creatures” in various interesting positions to ponder after a long day of… well, eating.

I can just see Neville and Edward sharing a “cuppa” on the balcony, having a deep, philosophical discussion about Brexit and Cricket.

The Buffet: “Washy-Washy” and World Peace

There are two ways to eat on a ship: “Civilized” or “The Windjammer.”

In the main dining room, you have a waiter, a schedule, and a fancy shirt. But the Windjammer? That’s an all-you-can-eat tactical assault. It’s packed with people and food from every corner of the globe. I saw Indian stations, Asian stir-fry, and enough seafood to deplete the Gulf. Even the “RFK Jr. Food Groups”—meat and fermented vegetables—were well-represented.

At the entrance, friendly staff reminded us to “Washy-Washy!” at the sanitizing stations. Wise advice when you’re sharing a boat with 5,000 strangers.

I personally believe breakfast is the highest form of art. The Windjammer offered custom omelets, lox and bagels, and enough Fish and Chips to feed a Welsh Guards regiment. The only struggle was deciding what not to put on my plate.

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The Pool Deck Olympics

The daily cruise calendar reads like a fever dream. You’ve got hot tubs, curling water slides, and the “FlowRider”—a simulated surf machine that tosses teenagers around like discarded plastic.

When we weren’t playing “Goofy Golf” or Bingo, we were catching Broadway-caliber shows like Mamma Mia! or watching acrobats dive into pools under neon lights. My grandkids were in heaven. So was I.

Meanwhile, the American Beagle’s resident millennial guest writer would have likely cringed at the noise. She’d probably prefer to spend her time on the balcony, sipping a virgin piña colada and reading “romantasy” novels while the sea rolled by. To each their own!

Sometimes I personally like a little festive note. Here is some appropriate gulf music courtesy of the late great Jimmy Buffet.

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Midnight Soft Serve Theology

If the buffet hits the “Gluttony” drum, the snack bars hit “Greed.”

There was a 24-hour pizza joint where my grandsons practiced the art of excess. One confessed he fetched an entire pizza just for the “fun” of it (don’t worry, most of it was eventually conquered). There was a nacho bar on the pool deck where my son-in-law lived a life of chips, cheese, and jalapeños.

And then… the soft-serve ice cream. It is the ultimate democracy. Rich, poor, young, old—everyone stands in line for that swirling tower of sugar. Since we don’t drink, we spent our nights inventing “secret menu” virgin cocktails and pondering the universe over a cone.

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Walking the Plank: The Final Verdict

Our five days were a whirlwind of bonding and indulgence. Bonding: Successful. If you want to be together—but also have the option to run away to your own cabin when your grandkids get “too loud”—a cruise is the perfect compromise. Me, personally, I loved having this time with the family.  It was an amazing opportunity.

Is it relaxing? I’m not so sure. The schedule can feel a bit like frogs on a march. I think my wife and I still prefer the mellow pace of a beach in Maui. But this was an interesting change of pace and well worth the expense.

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The American Beagle “Trek” Score:

• Cost Factor: 5/10. It ain’t cheap once you add Wi-Fi and tips, but it’s competitive with all-inclusive resorts.
• American Experience Factor: 10/10. You’ll learn more about the American Way on this ship than in a year of history classes.
• Social Interaction Factor: 10/10. You’d have to be a literal hermit to not make a friend here.
• UK Traveler Abroad Factor: 1/10. Sorry, Neville. Aside from the “Royal” in the name and the BBC on the Cabin TV’s, this Cruising option is 100% American Excess.

Overall Rating: 26/40

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Do you have a destination or a mode of transport you want the American Beagle to bird dog next? Let us know in the comments! The journey is coming soon!

Cheers, nca

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