Cabin Review

Pretty much matched my expectations; not amazing, yet not to the extent where it was a dump.

Everything in the cabin was fairly old and you can tell from the strange pinkish stain in the drawers (after you get past the spine-tingling, ear-drum tearing, deafening creaky metal-against-metal scraping sound that drawers can make after lack of proper maintenance).

I've been on numerous cruises already (I sailed RCI over 10 years ago, but I've been a loyal NCL potato for the past few years), so i obviously expected the interior stateroom to be 1) tiny. 2) musty (ya know. its a cabin after all. Can't expect too much about ventilation) 3) just a place to sleep.

About Expectation #1 - Reality was that it was even more tiny than the Norwegian cabins (Interior stateroom also, and also of smaller ships). Don't even get me started on the bathrooms (but I already am aren't I?). That tiny sad excuse for a shower is like 2.5 feet wide (cylindrical, so the sliding doors obviously form an even smaller crack for you to sleep through). There were many "large" people (vertical, horizontal - your pick) and I think it will forever be an enigma: how in the world do they shower?! Do they use the tiles on the walls to exfoliate their backs every time they turn???

Anyhow. The bathroom. Million Dollar Question: Do you, human, eject feces, gaseous matter, and urine? Do such objects smell because you eat and you talk and you breathe? Wow. You said yes. A million for you, and you, and you. *ultimate eye roll*

On the Norwegian ships, very logically the light turns on automatically when the door to the bathroom is opened and so does the ventilation system *out goes the smells* On the Liberty of the Seas. oh boy. the light switch is on the wall outside of the bathroom (+1) BUT BEHIND THE DOOR (- A GAZILLION) and no wonderful whirring will commence to save you from lethal fumes trapped in your airtight bathroom in your airtight cabin. Yay.

SPOILER ALERT:

If you wish to feel overly uncomfortable on top on the lack of comfort you are already suffering from due to constipation (hey cruise food ya know. meat. shunned veggies. it happens), you get to see your scrunched up face up close numerous times from different angles in close proximity while you are battling life and death on the seat of glory. Yep. And then the fumes come. *Cheers*

The steward did a fairly good job considering how messy we were (hey. Don’t judge yet. There was hardly any space to put our stuff), but still the room itself was a bummer.

Yes it had a sofa, but it also had a TV with creepy RCI-sponsored channels on it. Yes it ad a vanity table, but bro. The lighting system in the cabin *grabs blindfolds*

If you have ever cruised, you know that after the excitement-filled day, your cabin provides a bed, an adequate amount of light, and a fair amount of sound-proof goodness for your beauty sleep. Nope. Nope. Nope. The Main switch turns on everything (duh), but I mean “everything” - as in the majority of the lights in the tiny cabin and these are the brightest lights ever. Can’t sleep with those on can you? But you still need to have a light on so you don’t kill yourself trekking to the bathroom or the light switch in those 3 steps since light and day do not exist in a dark, air tight room. Oh no. So you attempt to turn on the wall-mounted bedside lamps. Nope. Still too bright and besides too close for comfort. You turn on the lights by the vanity table. Oh god. you just turned into a ball of yellow fire as the mirror truthfully reveals. Nope. You can only settle on leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar. Except. That angle at which the rays of light are projects…DARN OLD PHYSICS. Datatatatatata (that was evidently a drumroll) CURTAINS that divide the bed(s) from the rest of the room and light. Yay.

By the way we were on Deck 9 (Very quiet :) except for the fellow roommates' snoring... >-