Two years ago, my bestie Laura took me on a Star Trek cruise (Cruise VI) to celebrate our being 40 (even though it sailed the year we both turned 41). It was amazing – if a little overwhelming and also exhausting. We thought it would be a “once in a lifetime” experience—and it was, sort of. Apparently, a lot of Star Trek cruisegoers say the same thing… and then rebook for the next year before they even get off the ship! I didn’t do that, but I did follow a Facebook group for the next year’s cruise and enjoyed the excitement of everyone who did rebook. I lived vicariously through their fabulous adventures on Cruise VII. And as soon as booking opened for Cruise VIII, I signed up. It was reckless and foolhardy and fiscally irresponsible, I admit. But I did it.
And I have no regrets. I booked the cheapest cabin available, hoping that Laura could go with me but knowing in reality it was very unlikely due to her work duties. After a few weeks, I saw a post in the Facebook group advertising a Zoom meeting for anyone who wanted to join, to just ask questions or get to know other people who would be on Cruise VIII. I joined, a little reluctantly, one Sunday afternoon in late spring, and I was greeted by a bunch of random, friendly people. Most of them didn’t know each other, so we did lots of introductions. People who hadn’t been on a cruise before asked questions, and those of us who had been before got to answer. This Zoom meeting happened once a month through the summer, then every other week through the end of the year, and finally it met weekly after the new year until the cruise.
At first, this had been a random group of people who popped in to say hello and ask questions, give recommendations for packing lists, cosplay ideas, input on the shore excursions, helpful hints on door decorations, the works. But over time, the group took on a life of its own and became a crew. No, seriously, one of our Zoom members decided to create a ship, and we were all going to be crew members on the ship. It was named after the person who initiated the Zoom calls (much to her embarrassment—sorry, Martyna!), and we decided Ron had to be our captain since he was the leader on this project. Other Zoom members created artistic designs for the ship, both the exterior and the bridge, and another person started writing our story. Over the months between the first Zoom call and the cruise, a core crew showed up more often than not, always welcoming new members and still continuing to answer questions and generally hype up the cruise. While I only spoke in the Zoom calls when directly addressed (Ron always asks what I’m crocheting), I got to know the other crew members, and we became friends. The crew grew to about 50 people, with a core of maybe 25 who were consistently on the Zoom calls.
We started messaging each other during the week between Zoom calls, at first about things we planned to do on the cruise. It came up that some of us really enjoyed tea, so a few of the crew offered to put together tea kits for anyone interested. We also chatted about shore excursions and cosplay plans. But the chats were not limited to cruise plans, and they, too, took on a life of their own. We chatted about life and politics and funny memes and food, whatever.
Many of us had planned to arrive in our departure city, Miami, a couple days before the cruise (always a good idea when traveling in winter), so we planned an in-person meetup at one of our hotels and then a dinner together the night before sailing. One of our crewmates who lives in Miami put in a reservation at a Cuban restaurant for 30 people, but we ended up exceeding our space! Ron presented Martyna with a plaque for the ship’s ready room and presented our author, Britt, with a hand-bound book of our crew’s story; and we celebrated with cake. It was amazing to see these amazing humans in person whom I’d been getting to know slowly over months via Zoom and WhatsApp. They were every bit as lively and kind as I’d come to expect.
The next day, we sailed. Getting to the ship was a headache due to the tunnel closure and unexpected traffic (what should have been a 20-minute drive took over 2 hours), which meant I was not able to meet up with my crewmates as early as I’d hoped. But meet up we did, at the sail-away party. Ron had handmade magnetic badges just for our crew, and the Dutchies brought crew uniform shirts with them all the way from the Netherlands. We got a lovely photo together—as many of us as could make it—up on deck.
The rest of the cruise is a bit of a blur—lots of running around, waiting in line for photo ops, and giggling. The Star Trek cruise is just incredible. Obviously, a huge part of it is getting to see the actors in real life, hear their stories, see their talents (besides acting), and rub shoulders with them in the turbolifts and at the dining hall. But the other huge part of what makes the cruise incredible is the fandom. If you’re not a Star Trek fan, you might not know much about their ideology and value system, so let me give you the briefest explanation: Trekkies are open-minded, compassionate, inclusive thinkers with a shared vision of a future Earth that is inclusive and equitable. One of the fundamental values of Star Trek fans is diversity and inclusion. From its inception, Star Trek was designed to broaden horizons and cross social boundaries. Gene Roddenberry was very clear about the vision. While The Original Series aired during the height of the Civil Rights movement, each series that followed has continued to push boundaries and demand its viewers actively think about deep ethical issues. Sure, it’s entertainment, and on some level, it’s out there to make some big bucks. But on a deeper level, the fans (and many of the actors) truly believe in the values of Star Trek and strive to make the world a better place.
So in this political climate, being on a cruise with 2500+ likeminded people was so soothing. You could strike up a conversation with a stranger while waiting in line and know that not only did they love Star Trek, but they also loved democracy and human rights. You knew they were also tired of the new U.S. regime and would fight for something better. For that one week, even though the schedule was tiring, it was also the most relaxed and seen I’ve felt in years. Of course, not only was I surrounded by thousands of likeminded fans, but I was also a member of a tight-knit crew who accepted and appreciated me as I am. I would always have someone to eat meals with if I wanted company. If I wanted to go to a show or seminar, I just had to reach out in our chat group to find out who was going and had maybe already gotten us seats. Even on my excursion in Mexico, I was adopted by a crewmember and random stranger we met on the shuttle bus to the Mayan ruins. I was not alone. And even though my companion that day was tall and gorgeous and smart and funny, she made me feel special and appreciated instead of fat and ugly. (Thank you, Masha!)
My crew is amazing. It has been a month since the cruise, and we’re still active in our chats, still doing regular Zoom calls. The others are mostly getting ready for the next cruise (XI), which will be celebrating Star Trek’s 60th birthday. Even though I won’t be joining them, it’s still fun to be part of the crew, part of something special. Yes, these friends may be thousands of miles away and on different continents, but we are a family. It sounds crazy and idyllic and maybe like I’m romanticizing something that was just a fun cruise, but I’m really not. It was that powerful an experience. I’ve literally never in my life wanted to visit Europe because I am monolingual and terrified of being the dumb American who can’t speak French or Spanish, but now I hope that someday I get to visit my new friends in Czechia, Norway, Spain, Belgium, and the Netherlands (and someday Croatia). I’ve never been able to make local friends here, but these are real friends even from far away, and they see me.
I may not be going on the cruise next year, or maybe ever again, but I’m thankful for this magical group of people, my crew. I’m sure the high cannot last, and we will grow apart, but I’m still grateful for the time that we’ve had and the joy that we’ve all shared. It has truly been an awesome experience.
(Cruise X in 2027 will be celebrating 40 years of The Next Generation if anyone wants to plan way ahead…)