Arguing that American homes should be more like cruise ship staterooms

What if American housing was more like staterooms on cruise ships rather than large single-family homes?

Photo by Banu Acar on Pexels.com

My family went on a cruise last year over Christmas, and our week aboard the ship convinced me that we’ve got our ideals around home all wrong. The ideal American house shouldn’t be a single-family home with a big yard out in the suburbs. It should be a stateroom on a cruise ship.

Staterooms on cruise ships are famously compact and likely smaller than the bedroom you’ve left behind. But here’s what you get instead: a top deck with multiple pools, hot tubs, and a splash pad, layered atop a mall food court, stacked on top of entertainment venues ranging from a piano bar and a pub with live music to a comedy club and theaters with multiple performances a night. If you want to relax, you can grab a seat by the pool or hot tub. If you want activity, there’s a track, a gym, rock-climbing walls, and a basketball court that transforms into a bumper-car track a couple of hours a day. If you’re hungry, or if a small person is pestering you for a snack, there’s pizza, tacos, soft serve, and just about anything else you might want available nearly all day long. Whatever you and your family enjoy in a vacation, chances are you can find it on board.

Royal Caribbean’s new Oasis class of ships labels its different zones “neighborhoods,” as if to invoke the longing so many of us have for distinct, walkable communities. The “Central Park” neighborhood, for example, really does provide a kind of uncanny valley version of an urban street scene, where you and your spouse can sit outside at a wine bar while your kids wander freely. The “Boardwalk” neighborhood calls up nostalgic memories of festivals and ocean-front piers…

And that’s the lesson of a cruise, I think: A dream home doesn’t need a spacious primary bath or walk-in pantry. What matters even more than a grand entryway or a two-car garage is space and time to gather with people we love, and people we haven’t met yet.

This argument would resonate with those who like denser, walkable neighborhoods and communities. Residents can still have private settings they find comfortable but they have easy access to social and entertainment options.

But I wonder how many people would find this model attractive when single-family homes are an option many like. Is a stateroom big enough for household members to have their own space? It may not need to be a lot of private space but I also recall the conversations during COVID when all the people stuck at home tried to carve out spaces in their residences. Where would households store all their stuff? Does that stateroom come with a garage, basement, or storage facility? Some may not like shared walls or the homeowner’s association that comes with the stateroom or the parking issues they fear in denser settings. This may all work for a vacation when people have a short-term commitment but how many American residents would adopt this for years.

I wonder if there is a developer who would simply plop a cruise ship model into an existing American community. This version might not be able to sail for interesting locales but the idea of having many options nearby for a price would appeal to some. Imagine the Royal Caribbean development in a suburb.

Equating the population of a good sized American small town and the world’s new largest cruise ship

Americans like small towns. What if a small town was always on the water? The world’s new biggest cruise ship will carry a sizable number of people:

Photo by Shawnna Donop on Pexels.com

Royal Caribbean’s luxurious new vessel Icon of the Seas is nearing completion in the Turku shipyard on Finland’s southwestern coast, its maiden voyage scheduled for January 2024…

Resembling a village more than a ship, the mammoth vessel boasts colourful waterparks, more than 20 decks and can carry nearly 10,000 people…

Papathanassis noted that “there are obvious economic benefits” to mega-sized ships, reducing the cost of individual passengers.

With its seven pools, a park, waterslides, shopping promenades, ice skating rink and “more venues than any other ship”, larger vessels like the Icon of the Seas also offer more options for spending money on board.

Here is a breakdown of who will on the ship/floating village:

Royal Caribbean International’s Icon of the Seas is a mammoth 365 meters long (nearly 1,200 feet) and will weigh a projected 250,800 tonnes. For comparison, that’s like trying to keep two CN Towers afloat.

When it sets sail on Caribbean waters in January 2024, it will comfortably hold some 5,610 passengers and 2,350 crew.

Imagine a large American small town or a small suburb floating on the ocean around the world. What might take up several square miles on the American landscape can be packaged on one boat. The density is a lot higher and it has a lot of recreational amenities in a small space. Besides space, what else is missing?

I am reminded of the ideas of floating communities outside of international waters and/or apocalyptic scenarios where humans do not have access to land. Could a ship this sized be turned into a permanent settlement and how would this alter what is on board?