The Girlfriends’ Un-Getaway
I spent four days aboard Margaritaville at Sea Paradise, sailing to Freeport and Nassau in the Bahamas.
This was a girlfriends’ getaway with my friend Bernadette to help her ease into solo travel.
Despite having cabins next to each other, we had a surprisingly difficult time finding one another. We became two ships occasionally passing in the night.
Bernadette had opted against onboard Wi-Fi so coordinating meant relying on chance encounters around the ship.
Every so often our paths would cross. We would sit down, compare adventures, laugh and wander off again.
Complete strangers seemed to have no difficulty locating me.
And that became the unexpected lesson of this cruise.
Solo Is Wonderful. Vulnerable Is Different.
I love solo travel.
There is something wonderfully liberating about deciding when to eat, where to go, what to see and when you’ve had enough excitement for the day and want to disappear with a book.
But solo travel works beautifully until something doesn’t.
A lot of people begin traveling alone after years—sometimes decades—of traveling with a spouse or partner. Suddenly, the person who always sat beside you isn’t there.
You are navigating airports, hotels, cruise ships, restaurants and unfamiliar cities entirely on your own.
Most of the time, that is empowering. But being alone can also make you more visible.
This was a particularly lightly booked cruise. On a full sailing, a woman sitting alone can disappear into the crowd.
On this cruise, there were empty chairs everywhere. A solo woman sitting by herself in a lounge was like a lighthouse beacon visible from space.
Meeting people while traveling is one of the best parts of traveling alone.
And ladies, if you’re interested in a vacation romance or one-night hookup, go for it. No judgment here.
The important thing is that everyone gets to decide what they are comfortable with—and everyone else respects the answer.
Because travel can create a subtle illusion:
Companionship begins to feel like familiarity.
Familiarity begins to feel like trust.
And trust should never be issued on an expedited basis.
Especially when alcohol joins the itinerary.
Enter the Floating Lounge Lizard
It began innocently enough on the first evening.
I was sitting alone in Euphoria Lounge listening to the band when a man approached and asked whether he could have the empty chair beside me.
Cruise lounges are usually crowded. People share tables all the time. Without even looking around, I automatically said yes.
Mistake number one.
I looked over as he sat down.
He resembled Drew Carey, the comedian. I never learned his name, so we’ll call him Drew.
Within minutes, Drew was consuming bourbon at an impressive rate.
Then came the chatty compliments. More bourbon. And a brief departure to his stateroom before karaoke.
When he returned, I could smell the mouthwash a good ten seconds before the rest of him arrived. He must have doused himself with an entire bottle.
At that point the red flag went up—and it had a name tag.
When the band finished, I walked upstairs toward karaoke.
Drew followed.
Walking down the hallway, he awkwardly asked: “Can I kiss you?”
We had barely met.
I stopped walking.
“NO. There will be no kissing. There will be NO touching. And you need to stop following me.”
His response? “Okay…but can we still hang out?”
“No. We’re done here.”
A reasonable person might interpret this as the conclusion of the evening.
Phase Two: Karaoke Serenade.
I joined a table of women near the stage. They figured out what was happening almost immediately.
“GIRL! He is serenading you!”
“We just met,” I told them. “I don’t know this man.”
They burst out laughing.
Drew returned to the microphone again and again, replenishing his bourbon between performances.
By then, my table had become a live commentary booth.
“OMG! He’s back up there? Girl?!”
To be fair, several genuinely fabulous singers performed that evening and made sitting through the spectacle almost worthwhile.
Almost.
I left midway through song four.
When Familiarity Moves Too Fast
The next evening Drew spotted me again. “Have you been evading me all day?”
“No evading,” I said. “Just disinterest.”
On another day he took a seat across from me at lunch and admitted he had come on too strongly.
“Well,” I said, “alcohol will do that.”
Without bourbon running the operation, he seemed less like a Lounge Lizard and more like an awkward man who had spectacularly overshot the runway.
But he continued trying to maintain contact, even managing to work his cabin number into conversation more than once.
I declined to transmit my coordinates.
But then, Bernadette finally supplied one additional bit of information. She had encountered him at dinner.
“He told me he’s married!”
I had originally interpreted his awkward mating ritual as a man spectacularly out of practice. Being married would certainly explain the rust.
The problem wasn’t that a man approached me. It wasn’t that he expressed interest. It was the speed at which a stranger tried to manufacture a sense of closeness.
Within minutes, casual conversation had become heavy drinking, followed by a request for physical intimacy and an attempt to continue the interaction after I had clearly said no.
Excessive alcohol can lead to impulsive behavior very quickly.
He is still a stranger.
At home, if someone makes you uncomfortable, you can leave the restaurant, get in your car, and put distance between you.
At sea, you’re still floating together—and likely to cross paths again.
That’s why boundaries matter early.
Predators Don’t Care Which Side of the Table You’re Sitting On
Men like Drew can also make themselves vulnerable. Someone who is extremely eager for a stranger to say yes may stop asking an equally important question:
Who just said yes to me?
Predators aren’t interested only in women traveling alone. They look for vulnerability—fear, loneliness, too much alcohol, or someone so eager for companionship that they miscalculate who they can trust.
I learned that lesson long before I ever cruised alone.
A Lesson From New York
When I was a single woman in my twenties living in Delaware, I met Lily at a women’s conference at the University of Delaware.
Lily was a travel agent. We shared a passion for travel. We became casual friends—occasional Friday happy hours, dinner or a movie.
One day Lily invited me to New York. She had been offered a complimentary room at a beautiful five-star hotel in Manhattan.
We took the train from Wilmington and checked in. Later that afternoon a third young woman arrived named Susie.
Lily had met her somehow through the travel business. Susie lived in the Midwest, wanted to become a travel agent, and Lily had been mentoring her long distance.
Almost immediately, something felt wrong to me. It wasn’t simply how Susie looked.
It was what she did.
She repeatedly went into the closet, examining Lily’s clothes and jewelry and commenting on how pretty everything was.
Then she picked up a pair of my leather gloves and started to try them on.
“Those are mine,” I said.
Then, rather directly: “You steal anything from me and I’ll track you down.”
Bold for a 23 year-old, but obviously the product of growing up street-wise in the City.
Susie glared at me, but she put the gloves back on the table.
Later, the three of us went to the Empire State Building. While waiting in line, Susie announced that she needed the restroom and would catch up with us.
An hour passed and no Susie. Finally, I looked at Lily.
“Call the hotel. Have them check the room.”
She stared at me with a blank look on her face.
“Do it.”
About fifteen minutes later, the hotel called. We needed to return immediately.
What followed was a nightmare.
Virtually everything that wasn’t nailed down had been taken from the room—Lily’s clothes, jewelry and suitcase, along with hotel property.
My belongings were untouched. Including the leather gloves still sitting on the table.
The hotel’s surveillance footage showed a male accomplice leaving the hotel with Susie.
Lily’s misplaced trust cost her far more than possessions. There was the financial restitution to the hotel for damages.
And because the complimentary room had been extended through her professional relationship, damage to a business connection she had worked to build. Lily’s privileges at the hotel were immediately revoked and we were on the next train home to Delaware.
That experience stayed with me. Not because I believe everyone is suspicious. But because trust can expose more than your wallet.
It can expose your safety. Your reputation. Your professional relationships. Even opportunities you never expected to put at risk.
The lesson was not: Don’t trust anyone.
It was: Don’t confuse friendliness with knowing someone.
Not Every Man Was a Lounge Lizard
This distinction matters. Another gentleman approached me in Euphoria Lounge and asked me to dance.
I declined.
Later I moved to the Hemisphere Piano Bar, where the fabulous Valerie was playing and singing.
A man slipped onto the bar stool beside me and introduced himself as Daniel.
“I saw you in Euphoria,” he said. “That guy—what did he ask you? Did he ask you to go for sushi?”
“No. He asked me to dance.”
“And you declined?”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “I saw him get declined. I was heading your way, so I aborted.”
Now that was a man who could read a room.
Daniel and I ended up having a fascinating conversation.
He was an engineer who had spent years on the West Coast before relocating to Florida. He talked about growing up in a large family with a mother he remembered as extremely strict. Yet, all of the children had become successful professionals.
“What did she do right?” I asked him. “Look at all of you.”
He became quiet. Later he came back specifically to tell me I had made him think about his mother differently.
Hours after that, we happened to cross paths over late-night pizza.
“Hey, how are you?”
We laughed. And kept moving. That is one of the wonderful connections travel can create.
You talk. You laugh. You exchange ideas. You go your separate ways.
No barnacles attached.
Nobody requires an evacuation plan.
Nassau: Sometimes a Line Isn’t a Line
After several days of unusually active Lounge Lizard migration, my radar may have become a little oversensitive.
Wandering Nassau port shops, I was overheated and ready for something cold to drink. I stopped to read a waterfront restaurant menu board.
A local man approached from behind. “Were you a model?”
I laughed. “No.”
“You walk like a model.”
Oh, good grief. Here we go again. What the hell is in the water here?!
After several days of maritime mating rituals, I had begun interpreting every compliment as a bad opening line.
He introduced himself as James, the owner of the restaurant, and asked if I wanted lunch.
When I explained that I was dehydrated, he invited me inside, poured me an iced tea and turned the fan toward me.
And that was it. No pitch. No maneuvering. No attempt to convert kindness into an invitation.
We talked. I thanked him for the cold drink.
He wished me well, and I continued down the boardwalk.
Not every compliment is a pickup line.
Sometimes, respectful communication is simply a pleasant exchange with no expectations attached.
The Travel Tribe
Somewhere amid the Nassau heat and humidity, I wandered into Da Bee Hive Shop and met Bee.
Her family is involved in local beekeeping, but what I remember most is her.
She has one of those infectious smiles and laughs that makes you want to stay and talk.
I wandered away. Then wandered back.
Every time she spotted me nearby, she laughed.
“I see you over there!”
I bought one of her handmade shell Christmas ornaments but will definitely sample the honey products on my next visit.
I asked whether I could take her photograph and explained that I sometimes feature memorable people I meet while traveling.
She lit up.
Then I told her: “You’re part of my travel tribe now.”
She responded with a beaming smile that told me she was officially in.
The People Who Make the Cruise
Thankfully, the cruise wasn’t all wildlife.
There was Priscilla at the St. Somewhere Spa.
I opted to stay on the ship in Freeport and booked a full-body massage.
I returned to my cabin and promptly fell into what can only be described as a massage coma.
I woke hours later wondering what had happened to the afternoon.
That may be the finest review of Priscilla’s work I could possibly give.
There was Vlad at the Hemisphere piano bar who entertained me with a smoky cocktail creation that looked less like bartending and more like a science exhibit involving alcohol.
There was Mario in Euphoria, who spotted me on the first evening and laughed:
“Weren’t you just here last week?”
Close enough to make me feel like a regular.
And there was Tyo, my cabin steward, who quietly made my trip easier every day. When my eyes were irritated – possibly from mouthwash fumes — I asked for ice to make cold compresses.
From then on, he kept the bucket full.
And because excellent cabin service always includes whimsy, he also left adorable towel animals behind.
Cruises may be built around ships, ports and itineraries.
But the experience comes from the people working onboard.
And Then We Tried to Go Home
You might think stepping off the ship ended the field research.
Bernadette and I shared an Uber to the West Palm Beach Brightline station.
I went to the Premium lounge. She went to the regular lounge.
Then my phone lit up.
“OMG SECURITY! I was pulled over by security!!”
Well. That gets your attention.
Apparently, Bernadette had put a blue buffet napkin containing a fork and knife into her purse that morning so she could carry her breakfast and coffee.
Then she forgot about it. Until Brightline security found it.
“You can’t carry a knife onboard.”
Bernadette was genuinely confused. “I don’t have a knife.”
Security produced the evidence: Blue napkin. Fork. Knife.
Bernadette studied it. “I’m a turkey head.”
Security confiscated the knife and returned the fork.
Bernadette looked at the fork.
Then at security.
“You don’t think I could stab someone with a fork?”
Oh, Bernadette. This would be an excellent time to stop helping security with hypothetical scenarios. 😂
The excitement didn’t end there. A short while later my phone pinged with another message:
“Oh my God, Jeanie. I’m on the wrong train.”
She had followed the crowd onto an earlier train and discovered, after departure, that she wasn’t merely on the wrong train.
She was going in the wrong direction. Toward Miami. We were going to Orlando.
The travel chaos never ends. Some people attract it. I apparently travel with it.
Final Thoughts
Solo travel should expand your world.
It should introduce you to people you never would have met, conversations you never would have had and places you might never have seen.
It should make you more confident, not more fearful.
Talk to strangers. Accept the kindness. Make the new friend. Laugh with the person at the bar.
Just do it with your eyes wide open.
By the end of the cruise, I had stopped wondering why the Lounge Lizards kept finding me.
Then it occurred to me.
Maybe I wasn’t attracting the wildlife.
Maybe I was the watering hole.
Enjoy the scenery. Know the wildlife. Trust your instincts.
And when necessary—
Return him to the wild. 🦎
Part of the Coastal Cowgirl Series
