Although I frequently travel solo, I still get plenty of anxiety thinking about new situations. This is especially true for scenarios where I have limited control, like on a cruise ship.
In 2024, I made it a goal to test the cruise waters. I landed on a 4 day cruise to the Bahamas out of Orlando/Port Canaveral on the MSC Seashore. I reminded myself that cruising is for old people. If elderly passengers with limited technical literacy and physical mobility could successfully get on a cruise ship and have fun, certainly I could as well.
My anxiety began as soon as I arrived at the rental car drop off near the cruise terminal on embarkation day. Panic swept through my body the moment I saw the cruise port shuttle sitting at the entrance. I forgot to get cash for tips. *face palm*
I knew the driver of the complimentary shuttle from the rental car drop off to the cruise port, as well as the baggage handlers who load the larger luggage onto the ship, were likely expecting a small monetary token of appreciation. While getting cash for tips had been on my mental to-do list, it slipped my mind in the trauma of dealing with last-minute attempts to charge my electric rental car. I had zero cash, and there was nothing I could do about it now. I resigned to just be a shmuck and not tip, but vowed to myself I’d pay it forward to these types of service providers on a future trip.
After dropping off my rental car, the shuttle valet loaded my suitcase into the back of the van with a smile. I sat in the front seat, and he made pleasant chit-chat with me. While amping me up with tips and tricks for my first cruise experience, we made the short drive to the Cape Canaveral port area.
Two other passengers joined my shuttle and chatted in Italian the entire short shuttle ride. Because MSC is an Italian-based cruise line and the only one in port that day, I speculated these were cruise ship workers that got a few days off and used their free time to rent a car and explore Florida. I filed away “cruise ship employee” as one of my many employment ideas for semi-retirement. Seems like a sweet gig to travel the world if you have low expenses and high tolerance of the public.
The shuttle valet noted my ship, the MSC Seashore, was the only one in port today, but warned me on Sunday when we returned it would be quite a different scene. The largest cruise ship in the world, Royal Caribbean’s Icon of the Seas, would be in port, as well as several other massive ships. We could expect tens of thousands of cruise passengers to be humming around the port, scrambling to get on, or off, their ship as quickly as possible. Great.
He went on to rave about the onboard food selections, cautioning me to pace myself to avoid overeating and waddling back to my cabin in regret after a day of non-stop indulgences. He had taken 7 cruises himself and assured me I would love the experience. I found myself wondering if he is just the chatty type, or if he was trying to butter me up for a hefty tip that would not be manifesting.
The shuttle dropped us off right at our terminal, where several baggage handlers awaited. The valet removed my bag from the back of the shuttle and, mercifully, quickly returned to his driver’s seat with just a smile and “thank you”. Awkward tipping interaction #1 averted.
Throngs of baggage handlers were immediately on site as we exited the shuttle. Their job was to take the bags from the back of the shuttle and place them on a luggage cart approximately 3 feet away. The luggage would then be transported to the ship on my behalf. Relying on the porters and a detailed yet flimsy paper luggage tag, my suitcase was supposed to be waiting for me outside my cabin door later that evening.
The bag drop off area was placarded with signs indicating gratuities were optional and should be based on the level of service provided. I was flooded with a wave of relief at the reassurance that tipping was truly optional, but this reprieve was short lived. As my gaze shifted from the signs to the rows of awaiting porters, a gruff, squat man came into focus in front of me.
Without any acknowledgement or pleasantries, he took my suitcase from my hand and then stood there with his hand out, expectantly. Cue mortification.
I could have politely apologized that I didn’t have any cash on me, but in the moment of panic, of course that is not what I did. I peered down at the open, outstretched palm, and back up to the dour, anticipative face. We both knew what was expected of me. Oozing awkwardness, I prepared to drop my end of the societal bargain.
Avoiding eye contact, I blurt out a quick “Thank you!” and dart away. I didn’t know where I was supposed to be headed, but walked briskly and purposely in a random direction in an attempt to get as far away from this humiliation as possible. As I’m escaping, I hear the man grumble behind me, “What? No tip for me?”.
Initially, I felt guilty for not tipping him. However, this comment was the magical salve that released me from all sense of obligation. I immediately thought to myself, as I continued scurrying away, “Tipping is based on the quality of service provided, I mean the sign even said so. This guy was not friendly at all. What happened to service with a smile? This is the very beginning of my cruise experience and I want to be greeted by happy employees. This guy shoving his hand in my face as soon I step out of the shuttle is not the type of experience that merits tipping for exceptional service. This is a huge cruise hub and he must see hundreds of passengers a day, my single bag without a tip is not going to bankrupt him.”
Did I mention my name is, in fact, Karen?
Embracing the stereotype of my name, my justification game was strong. I contemplated all the lines of logical defense for why this man really did not even deserve a tip. This of course was all an attempt to assuage my own underlying guilt. Those couple of dollars for a tip would have been a fraction of a percent of my overall trip budget. The societal expectations on me to part with them was the source of my indignation rather than their actual monetary value.
Jokes aside, I am not a total cheapskate. The cruise included automatic, mandatory gratuities at a rate of $16 per passenger, per night. The pot of money is split across all servers, bartenders, housekeepers, etc., so I did tip the crew a total of $48.
I milled around the baggage drop off area, feigning purpose, as I looked for the cruise terminal entrance. On the walk from the shuttle, up the escalators to the terminal security check, through the passport and ticket verification queue, and for the first few hours on-board, I pondered if my bag would arrive at all. I knew the bag handler was disgruntled with his lack of tip, so what kind of retribution might I suffer?
Obviously, he was definitely going to “forget” to put my bag on the ship at all. I’d be spending the next 4 days in MSC-branded shorts and tank tops from the over-priced onboard store, but I’d survive.
If he did put it on the ship, then surely he’d at least steal something of value out if first, right? His comments made it clear he felt he was owed a tip, so maybe he’d take matters into his own hands to see that he was compensated.
My suitcase was mostly lady clothes and toiletries, with the exception of my cheap binoculars for birding. He was a middle-aged man, which puts him right in the prime birding demographic, but he did not really strike me as an aviphile. There were also many other passengers and employees around, so it might be difficult for him to find a place to safely open the bag and rummage through it. Perhaps my binocs were safe.
If he wasn’t able to easily steal something from the bag, maybe he’d mess with my bag in another way, to teach me a lesson. I did a lot of extended family camping trips in my childhood. One year in particular, my actions miffed a younger male cousin. I can’t recall the exact offense, but I do distinctly recall waking up in my tent enveloped in the very distinct smell of urine. He peed on my tent to punish me, and that nugget of trauma was forever lodged in my brain.
Might this bag handler pee on my suitcase? Perhaps he could open the zipper just a tad and urinate on the contents without making the bag obviously wet. My mind was clearly descending down a path of increasingly unlikely, but seemingly very plausible scenarios.
In need of a coping mechanism, I headed to the first pool bar I could find and ordered a gin and tonic. I did not purchase a drink package beforehand, and had read several blog posts about pushy employees trying to coax passengers into signing up for one onboard. When the bartender scanned my cruise card and immediately flagged a colleague with an iPad to come over, I knew I was in for a sales pitch.
Although I was told I’d have to tip well to get my server to ‘forget’ to charge me, I found that tipping was not actually required for complimentary cocktails. Whether through laziness, incompetence, or technical glitches, I received multiple cocktails each day that did not appear on my final invoice. I definitely made the right choice not to purchase the drink package.
The cruise employee promptly brought up my tab with the cost of my single cocktail ($12, plus tax). He delivered a prepared speech about how I’d “only” have to order a dozen more cocktails over the next 2.5 days to make the drink package a more economical choice. As a solo traveler more interested in birds and hiking than getting sloshed, I politely declined. However, I could understand how my 12 pm hard liquor cocktail may have given him a different idea of my intentions for this vacation. He then informed me, “You know, if you give the bartenders a cash tip, you’ll get better service and they might forget to charge your account for your drinks. That really happens,” he assured me.
Now I was spiraling. Not only is my suitcase going to arrive pee soaked, if at all, I’m not even going to able to drink about it because I have no cash to get bar service. The tipping culture was inescapable. I took my $12 cocktail and sat poolside, waiting for the ship to sail away, ruminating about the fate of my suitcase.
After about 2 hours in the sun, a garbled voice broke over the loudspeaker, announcing that the safety drill would begin shortly. All passengers needed to head to their cabin to watch a mandatory safety video. I relinquished the poolside lounge chair I had been fiercely guarding and wove my way through the labyrinthian cruise ship up to my deck – lucky #13. My bag was not supposed to be delivered until later in the day, so I vowed not to panic if had not yet arrived.
For Italians, the number 17 is considered unlucky., so the MSC Seashore does not have a 17th deck. Well, it does, but they just call it the 18th deck to avoid superstitions. On other cruise lines, you’ll often find the 13th deck missing, based on similar superstitions.
Cruise ships are not particularly intuitive to navigate, but following the series of room number signs I maneuvered my way through turns, elevator bays, and corridors until I was nearly at my assigned cabin. I turned a final corner, and there she was. That glorious mauve rectangle, speckled with random dirt smears from years of travel, waiting patiently for me. My suitcase arrived safe and sound at my cabin door, just as promised.
My pace increased as I closed the gap to my cabin door to truly confirm my bag arrived safely. The momentary glee was shattered as – gasp – the zipper was slightly unzipped. It was certainly not like that when I dropped it off. The only possibilities were 1) full of pee, or 2) missing critical items.
I burst into my room, bumbling through the narrow corridor as I dragged my ajar suitcase behind me. Heaving the bag onto the MSC-branded luggage mat across the bed, I prepared for undesirable bodily fluids to begin seeping out. I undid the rest of the zipper, flopped the cover open, and beheld my fate.
Everything was fine. It looked exactly as it had when I packed it. No unexpected moisture, undies still neatly folded, binoculars in place.
With a sigh of relief, I thought back to all my unkind thoughts over the course of the day. The porter acted as a professional and delivered my suitcase in good order despite the lack of tip. I hope he spent less time brooding over the interaction than I did.
In retrospect, the fact that there were numerous signs indicating tipping was optional is likely because the bag handlers tend to be a bit blunt about demanding tips. The cruise line does not want guests to feel like they are getting the shakedown until they are actually onboard the ship. My bag was probably slightly open due to security checks for contraband, not malicious vengeance.
Despite my mental efforts to manifest the worst possible outcomes, I had an awesome cruise experience. So much so, that upon my return I immediately booked a 8-day cruise with MSC through the Norwegian Fjords for May of 2025. Now I am wondering, what are the tipping expectations for cruises in Europe?
Oh my god, I had second hand trauma from reading this! It is honestly one of my fears when I travel. I’m Norwegian and the tipping culture just doesn’t really exist here. I’m always worried about needing small change on me when I travel or even having to second guess if someone is nice because they want to be helpful or if they expect a tip. I completely understand how you must’ve been feeling! To answer your question – tipping isn’t that big of a thing here. It’s appreciated for sure but I wouldn’t say it’s mandatory. I know in the USA it’s customary to tip 20%+ but my max is either rounding up or 10% at the most.
Thanks Caroline for assuaging some of my fears about tipping culture on my upcoming Norwegian cruise! I will still try to have some small denominations on me, but if people grumble at me for not tipping hopefully they do it in Norwegian so I can’t understand their insult 🙂
Tipping while traveling is such a challenge to begin with–knowing the expectations in each country and each situation is tough. I don’t like to tip for poor service, but in the US at least, I still tip something for waiters at least.
Tipping stresses me out. I tipped in Mexico what I would tip in the US. So, if I’d give a tour guide a US $10 tip here, I often did the equivalent in Mexico. I’m not sure if overtipped or not, but I figured I could afford a US $10 either way. I recently forgot small bills to tip housekeeping on a trip. I felt so bad because I know they were really short staffed.
Ugh, yes! My “ability” to tip also weighs heavily on my mind. An extra $10 is trivial to me in the grand scheme, but could make an actual difference to someone working in a lower income country. Kudos to you for tipping the same regardless!
Haha I can totally relate to this! We don’t really tip here in the UK so when I’m travelling it doesn’t always cross my mind 🤦♀️ I’ve had several encounters similar to yours! I loved reading about your experience and laughed along with you!