In the world of cruising, new ships are launched with much pomp and circumstance. The ceremony you’re likely to read about, and even more likely to remember, is the christening, or naming. That’s the moment when a ship, all gussied up for a gala night of celebration and the onset (traditionally) of its maiden voyage, welcomes the industry’s elite to a big party. The event is centered on a luminary (actress, political figure, model, actress, member of royal family, actress) who as godmother attempts to break a bottle of Champagne against the ship’s hull. A successful smash (and it doesn’t always work on the first try) signifies good luck for the ship in the years to come.

It’s usually a great time. There are speeches (sometimes too many speeches), offbeat dance performances and confetti snowstorms to mark the moment before all head inside the ship for a celebratory dinner. But for some reason I usually feel let down afterward. I’ve never been able to figure out why.