by “Like a sore thumb” is not quite the same. Nothing about the Icon of the Seas looks particularly painful, or as if it is trapped in a door that has suddenly been slammed. But as I approach it from mainland Florida – gliding over the water on the Port of Miami Bridge, passing the other marine giants docked at the city’s various cruise terminals – one thing is certain. That’s where Royal Caribbean’s newest ship leaves, at the far end of the road.
It also represents – funnels flowing towards heaven; a colored tangle of water slides can be seen on the upper deck. But mostly – to the point where I wonder how the “smaller” ships that are anchored will get back up the channel around it – it goes away.
Also it could. Although it is only now launching, at the end of January, Icon of the Seas seems to have been in the water for months, maybe even years, and has generated so much publicity.
Mostly because of its size. After all, this is now the largest cruise ship in the world. And the statistics are amazing. For all the self-deprecating comments on social media about a “human lasagne” – inspired by early renderings of the vessel, showing its 20 decks stacked like (if you will) sheets of pasta – its scale depends on actions great engineering.
If you were to stand it directly in the soil of London, you would see its length of 1,197 feet (365m) that it leaves the Shard to height. If you opened its doors there on the banks of the Thames, it could almost accommodate a Premier League football crowd. With space for a maximum of 7,600 passengers and 2,350 staff, it is just short of the capacity of AFC Bournemouth’s Live Stadium (11,307). The intended cost? It’s only $1.65 billion (£1.3 billion).
Stepping on board only increases the sense of size. Icon of the Seas is so big that its name can be seen above the door at the Royal Caribbean terminal – like a movie star at a red carpet premiere.
Inside, guests subject themselves to airport-standard check-in procedures – all passport checks, X-ray machines and security scans. It is not a careless and quick process. But the queue grows with a recognizable buzz.
“We booked this eight months ago,” comes one excited voice behind me; giddy conversation of an American family with teenage children. “We absolutely cannot wait.” He adjusts his designer sunglasses, which, in his excitement, have fallen down his nose. Dad is speaking.
And yet, once we’re on the ship, this humor seems to evaporate. Everything is signposted. An army of staff, in branded orange T-shirts, are on hand to give instructions. The lifters are hardly as helpful, arranged in clusters of nine. Ask for your deck via one of the various touchscreens, and the screen immediately responds with the letter of the threshold you should take, from A to I. Although I’m up on the 14th deck, I’m in my stateroom only five minutes away after the crossing. the threshold of the ship. Big doesn’t have to mean baffling.
Interestingly, Royal Caribbean was keen to, if not downplay Icon’s unprecedented size, then shy away from emphasizing it as its sole defining feature. Much has been made of the ship’s facilities – the seven separate swimming pools (claimed as a record); of the 40-plus restaurants (serving everything from sushi and steak to sandwiches and snacks), bars and dining areas; the vessel’s ability to recycle “waste” heat from the engines, and convert it into electricity on board.
But there is also bullishness in the air, brought to light (and, no doubt, a dose of post-pandemic relief) by a major project being completed. “When we launched Icon of the Seas into Miami a week ago, we came in – unapologetically – very loud,” says Royal Caribbean president Michael Bayley to a small media gathering. “We put $100,000 worth of speakers on the side of the ship, and we woke up the city. We stopped the traffic.”
Even allowing for hyperbole, the obvious confidence does not stop here. Back in December, football superstar Lionel Messi – not coincidentally, now playing in the United States for Inter Miami, after captaining Argentina to World Cup victory in 2022 – was announced as which could be called “godmother” of the ship once, but, in this. case, is pithily described as “the icon for the Icon”.
This spirit of self-determination affects the departure of the ship; a complete 10-minute display of fireworks, set off on a barge off the coast of Miami; gunpowder extravaganza that is only slightly reduced by the fact that it begins in before sunset, the various bursts of red, green and explosive gold slightly lost against the orange sky.
The spectacle provokes a “too busy sadness” disturbance from the forklift drivers moving between the shipping containers on the nearby docks, but does draw a large crowd to the promenade on the other side of the harbour. When Icon finally inches into the Atlantic at night – en route to CocoCay, the Royal Caribbean’s “private island” in the Bahamas – it does so to audible cheers and applause from an appreciative audience in South Pointe Park.
As for the signs on board, it’s easy to get lost – or, at least, lose yourself – in the ship and its eight different “neighborhoods”. Even if, in theory, you know the layout. Last May, I had a brief glimpse of Icon of the Seas, traveling to Finland to see it, still under construction, at the Meyer shipyard in Turku. The flashback is a bit unnerving. Even though I’m on the same recognizable vessel, its transition from a forested Nordic backdrop to the Florida daylight somehow gets me – as does being able to explore fully varnished spaces that were, no doubt, held eight months ago. .
So I wander, rather agog at just how much is crammed into Icon of the Seas without it ever feeling cramped. Central Park is a case in point: an al-fresco oasis that, although deep in the heart of the ship on Deck 8, is open to the Skies, its restaurants and bars sheltered in the shade of trees and foliage.
Elsewhere on the shopping thoroughfare of the Royal Promenade (on Deck 5), “the Pearl” serves as a technological wizard; a giant ball of white light and soft sounds – part walk-in art installation, part sizzling comfort blanket – covered in 3,600 “kinetic tiles”.
Above all, the Aquadome is a very competent entertainment area. The “AquaTheater” is no simple stage inside, but a small area full of water, where, in the evening show Aqua Action, acrobats, gymnasts and daredevils – some of them former Olympians – dive from high boards, or swoop and swirl in harness. , as a cascade pours from the ceiling.
Most impressive, however, is how smooth it rides. Cocooned in my cabin, I barely notice the January swell of the Atlantic during my first night’s sleep. By morning, the ocean is in an unpleasant mood, but it seems unable to trouble the beast gliding across it any more.
The white horses are especially visible from the best seat in the house, the bridge. Above, Henrik Loy, who has worked for the cruise line since 1997, surveys the scene with all the calm and stoicism you’d expect from a seasoned Norwegian sailor. “I’m very proud to be the captain of Icon of the Seas,” he says, barely taking his eyes off the empty horizon ahead. Beyond that, through the reinforced glass, the Atlantic continues to roar – but, for now, it looks like Royal Caribbean’s latest and greatest baby is about to make a smooth entrance into the world.
