Sue laughs at me because she knows I can't help myself.

Everywhere we go, I watch people.

Airports.

Restaurants.

Cruise ships.

Especially cruise ships.

It's not because I'm nosy. Well... maybe a little. It's because after enough years of traveling, you begin to notice patterns. You can almost predict what's about to happen before it happens.

Sometimes I'll lean over to Sue and quietly say, "Let's go this way."

She doesn't even ask why anymore.

Nine times out of ten, within a few minutes, whatever I saw brewing turns into exactly what I thought it would. Somebody's had one drink too many. A line is getting tense. Somebody's convinced the rules don't apply to them. Security is suddenly walking with purpose.

We just keep walking.

Life's too short.

As I sat down to write this, I thought it was going to be another one of those cruise etiquette articles. You know the kind. Twenty Things Every Cruiser Should Know. The internet already has about a million of those. It doesn't need another one.

Then it hit me.

This really isn't about cruise etiquette.

It's about what happens when roughly 6,000 complete strangers decide to live together for the next eight days.

Think about that for a second.

That's almost the population of the town where Sue and I live.

For one week, we're neighbors.

We don't get to choose who lives next door. We don't get to vote for a mayor. We don't control the weather, the itinerary, the elevators, the buffet crowds, the theater schedule, the volume of the music, or the person assigned to the cabin next door.

We're simply dropped into a floating city and asked to make it work.

And somehow...

Most of the time...

It does.

Not because cruise lines have magical powers.

Because most people are decent.

Most people smile when they pass you in the hallway. Most people thank the bartender. Most people hold a door. Most people understand that sharing a ship with thousands of others requires a little patience, a little awareness, and a little common sense.

It's the other handful that make things interesting.

The Elevator Tells You Everything

I've always thought you could learn a lot about a person by watching what they do when the elevator doors open.

Some people immediately charge forward before anyone has a chance to get off. Apparently they believe the elevator is going to leave without them if they wait another three seconds.

I've never really understood that.

Stand to the side, let people get off, then get on. Funny how waiting three seconds hasn't caused society to collapse yet.

A while back I watched an elderly woman trying to maneuver her mobility scooter into an elevator. The doors opened and people immediately started squeezing in around her. Nobody was being intentionally cruel. They were simply thinking about themselves.

So I held everybody back.

"Let her on first."

She smiled, got herself safely inside, and by the time she did there wasn't room left for me.

So I waited for the next elevator.

On another cruise I ended up taking the stairs to meet Sue because, once again, somebody else needed that elevator more than I did.

Did it inconvenience me?

Sure.

For about three minutes.

Here's the thing—I have no idea where that woman was trying to go. Maybe dinner. Maybe the restroom. Maybe back to her cabin.

I didn't need to know.

She needed that elevator more than I did.

A few months ago I came a whole lot closer to being that person than I ever imagined. My knee was in rough shape, and for the first time in my life I caught myself thinking, I might actually need a scooter if we cruise.

That'll change your perspective in a hurry.

One day that scooter might be mine.

One day it might be yours.

The Theater Is Not a Land Grab

People start lining up outside the theater because they've been looking forward to that production show for months.

Then somebody decides the line doesn't apply to them.

They drift in through a side entrance, join friends near the front, or somehow convince themselves that the people who've been standing there patiently are simply enjoying the exercise.

Wait your turn.

And while we're in the theater...

Saving one seat for your spouse because they ran to the restroom or grabbed a drink?

Perfectly reasonable.

Saving an entire row for family members who are still back in the cabin deciding which shirt to wear?

Not so much.

If your whole group wants to sit together, your whole group should arrive together.

The Buffet: A Study in Human Behavior

If you really want to study human behavior, skip the theater.

Go to the buffet.

Actually... grab yourself a cup of coffee first because you're going to be there awhile.

Sue reminded me of a family she watched one morning. Mom, Dad, two little kids. Their table looked like they'd stocked up for winter. English muffins. Danishes. Pastries. Fruit. Enough food to feed a small village.

Twenty minutes later they walked away leaving a mountain of untouched food behind.

Take what you'll eat.

If you're still hungry, go back.

The buffet isn't going anywhere.

Then Sue reminded me of another one.

The buffet was packed. People wandered around carrying hot plates looking for somewhere—anywhere—to sit.

Meanwhile, one group had finished breakfast...

...and started playing cards.

Read the room.

The cards work just as well in the lounge. Find somewhere else to play! MOVE!

Wash Your Damn Hands

If you've spent more than ten minutes talking with me, you knew this section was coming.

You just came out of the restroom.

You're about to handle the serving tongs everyone else is about to touch.

This isn't complicated.

Carnival even has automatic hand-washing machines now. They've literally invented a machine that washes your hands for you.

Technology has officially eliminated your last excuse.

Nobody wants the aftermath of this afternoon's Guy's Burger becoming tonight's seasoning on the buffet tongs.

Wash your damn hands.

And while you're at it...

Make sure little Johnny and Sally wash their grubby little hands before they head to the cookie tray.

Parenting Doesn't End at the Gangway

Kids get excited on cruise ships.

I understand that.

But being on vacation doesn't mean parenting takes the week off.

Your kids are still your responsibility.

Please don't let them turn the buffet into a biology experiment.

Please don't let them scream through restaurants.

And if they aren't potty trained, keep them out of the main pool.

I've watched too many beautiful afternoons come to an abrupt end because a crew member suddenly had a very unpleasant job to do.

The Walkway Is Not a Conference Room

Groups of people always manage to stop in the narrowest, busiest part of the ship to have a conversation.

Need to stop?

Fine.

Pull over first.

The same rule applies in airports, grocery stores, shopping malls, and pretty much anywhere else human beings gather.

Get the hell out of the way.

The Drink Package Is Not a Dare

Enjoy yourself.

Order the frozen drink.

Have the wine with dinner.

Try the cocktail with the tiny umbrella.

But at some point getting your money's worth from the drink package stops being funny and starts becoming everyone else's problem.

Know your limits.

Because there's a very good chance someone nearby is recording your worst decision.

None of us boarded hoping to become someone else's cruise story for all the wrong reasons.

This photo was taken in 2021 aboard Symphony of the Seas. Five years later, we still remember Sam and A.J. by name. They became our Gold Standard for hospitality, and every dining room team we've sailed with since has been measured against them. No one has come close.

Respect the Crew

This part isn't funny.

Don't ever treat a crew member with disrespect.

Ever.

Those men and women spend months away from their families so we can enjoy a week with ours.

Remember that before you raise your voice.

Learn your waiter's name.

Say please.

Say thank you.

Those little things matter far more than you probably realize.

Respect the Places You Visit

One of the greatest things about cruising is that it drops you into places with centuries of history that most people would never visit otherwise.

One day you're wandering the streets of Old San Juan.

The next you're standing inside a cathedral that has welcomed worshippers for hundreds of years.

That history deserves a little respect.

I'm not saying you need to wear a tuxedo.

I'm simply saying common sense still applies.

And yes...

Sue and I actually watched someone walk into a centuries-old cathedral dressed like they were heading to a pool party.

In what bizarro world is a thong strapped across your 300-pound ass appropriate attire inside a 500-year-old cathedral?

That sentence may sound harsh.

It was meant to.

The issue wasn't her body.

The issue was the place.

There's a difference between a beach bar and a five-hundred-year-old cathedral.

Respect the history.

Respect the culture.

Respect the people who still worship there.

And maybe take one last look in the mirror before you leave the ship.

The Ship Is Not Your Private Estate

Here's something I've learned after years of cruising.

You are not the most important person on the ship.

Neither am I.

Neither is Sue.

Every person onboard saved money, requested time off from work, counted down the days, and stepped onto that gangway hoping to come home saying exactly the same thing.

"That was a great vacation."

Hold the elevator.

Wait your turn.

Move over in the hallway.

Take only what you'll eat.

Treat the crew with respect.

Know your limits.

Do your damn muster drill.

Wash your damn hands.

None of those things cost a penny.

Every one of them makes the floating city a little better.

Sue and I aren't trying to tell anyone how to vacation.

If your perfect cruise is spending all day by the pool with a frozen drink, go for it.

If you'd rather explore every port from sunrise to sunset, that's great too.

We wrote this because we love cruising.

We love the people we've met.

We love the places we've seen.

And we love the memories we've brought home.

We're just hoping that, somewhere in these stories, maybe one person decides to hold an elevator, thank a crew member, or wash their hands before grabbing the buffet tongs.

If that happens...

Then this article was worth writing.

And if you're disappointed because this wasn't a checklist of cruise tips, don't worry.

My next article will have plenty of practical advice about packing, cabins, embarkation day, shore excursions, and all the little tricks we've learned over the years.

But before you read that one...

Think about this one.

The most important thing you bring on a cruise isn't in your suitcase.

It's the attitude you carry up the gangway.

Oh...

And one more thing.

Wash your damn hands.

About the Authors

Joe and Sue Valente are the travelers behind Travel With Sue & Joe. As travel advisors, they believe the best vacations aren't measured by how many ports you visit or how many passport stamps you collect—they're measured by the stories you bring home, the people you meet along the way, and the memories that stay with you long after you've unpacked your suitcase.

Travel has taught them that the destinations are only part of the journey. Sometimes the most memorable moments come from a conversation with a waiter, a quiet sunrise at sea, or simply paying attention to the little things that most people walk right past.