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Essay on School Playground

Students are often asked to write an essay on School Playground in their schools and colleges. And if you’re also looking for the same, we have created 100-word, 250-word, and 500-word essays on the topic.

Let’s take a look…

100 Words Essay on School Playground

The importance of a school playground.

A school playground is a vital part of a student’s life. It is not just a place to play, but also a space for learning and development.

Playground as a Learning Space

The playground is where students learn about teamwork, leadership, and fair play. It is also where they develop physical strength and coordination.

Playground and Mental Health

Playing in the playground helps students relieve stress and improve their mood. It is a place where they can freely express themselves and enjoy their childhood.

In conclusion, a school playground plays an essential role in shaping a student’s overall development.

Also check:

  • 10 Lines on School Playground
  • Paragraph on School Playground

250 Words Essay on School Playground

The importance of school playgrounds.

School playgrounds, often overlooked, play a critical role in the holistic development of students. They serve as a physical and emotional release for children, providing a venue for spontaneous play, which is essential for cultivating social skills, physical health, and emotional well-being.

Playgrounds as a Social Hub

Playgrounds act as a microcosm of society, where students learn to interact, negotiate, and build relationships. They learn the principles of cooperation, teamwork, and leadership, skills that are not easily taught in the confines of a classroom.

Physical and Mental Health Benefits

Physically, playgrounds provide the necessary space for students to engage in physical activities, promoting fitness and overall health. They help combat the sedentary lifestyle that is increasingly prevalent among children today. On the mental front, playgrounds can serve as a stress-buster, providing a much-needed break from academic rigors.

Encouraging Creativity and Imagination

Playgrounds also foster creativity and imagination. The unstructured nature of playground activities allows students to invent games, solve problems creatively, and explore new ideas, promoting cognitive development.

Challenges and Opportunities

Despite their benefits, school playgrounds often face challenges such as safety concerns and lack of resources. However, these challenges present opportunities for innovation, such as designing safer, more engaging playgrounds, and incorporating technology to enhance the playground experience.

In conclusion, school playgrounds are much more than just physical spaces for play; they are crucial for students’ social, physical, and cognitive development. As such, they warrant more attention and investment from educators, parents, and policymakers.

500 Words Essay on School Playground

The essence of a school playground.

A school playground is more than just a place for students to run around during recess. It is a vibrant hub of activity, a place where children can exercise, socialize, and learn valuable life skills. It serves as a microcosm of the larger world, providing students with a safe and controlled environment in which they can explore, experiment, and grow.

The Role of Playgrounds in Physical Development

Playgrounds are essential for the physical development of students. They provide a space for various forms of physical activities such as running, jumping, climbing, and playing games. These activities not only contribute to the physical well-being of students but also help them develop motor skills, coordination, and balance.

Playgrounds as Social Arenas

The playground is also a social arena where students learn to interact with their peers. It’s here where they learn the art of negotiation, cooperation, and conflict resolution. They learn to share, take turns, and work as a team. These are critical skills that will serve them well in their future personal and professional lives.

The Educational Value of Playgrounds

Playgrounds also hold significant educational value. They offer a different kind of learning environment, one that is more hands-on and experiential. Through play, students can learn about basic physics principles such as gravity and motion. They can also learn about cause and effect, problem-solving, and creativity.

The Psychological Impact of Playgrounds

From a psychological perspective, playgrounds play a vital role in the mental health of students. They provide a much-needed break from the structured classroom environment, allowing students to relax, unwind, and reduce stress. This is particularly important in today’s high-pressure academic environment, where students often face significant stress and anxiety.

Playgrounds as Spaces for Inclusion

Inclusion is another important aspect of school playgrounds. They are spaces where all students, regardless of their abilities, can come together to play and interact. This promotes a sense of belonging and acceptance among students, which is crucial for their self-esteem and overall well-being.

The Future of School Playgrounds

In the future, school playgrounds will likely continue to evolve to meet the changing needs of students. They may incorporate more technology, offer more diverse play options, and be designed with a greater focus on inclusivity and accessibility. Despite these changes, the fundamental role of the playground as a place for physical activity, social interaction, and experiential learning will undoubtedly remain the same.

In conclusion, the school playground is an indispensable part of the educational landscape. It is a place that fosters physical, social, intellectual, and emotional development in students. It is a testament to the fact that learning is not confined to the four walls of a classroom but can occur in any environment that stimulates curiosity, interaction, and growth.

That’s it! I hope the essay helped you.

If you’re looking for more, here are essays on other interesting topics:

  • Essay on Safety in School
  • Essay on My Best Day at School
  • Essay on Last Day of School

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Student Essays

Essay on My School Playground

Essay on My School Playground For Children & Students

This essay talks about our School Playground, its description, Purpose of its use, how it is the best playground to play every game etc. This essay is written in simple English and is very helpful for children and students.

Essay on Playground  For Students

A playground is a special place for children to play. It is a place where they can be active and have fun. playgrounds are usually located in parks, schools, or other public areas. Playgrounds usually have a variety of equipment such as slides, swings, and monkey bars. This equipment is designed to help children develop their physical skills.

>>>>> Read Also:   ” Essay On Amusement Park “

My School Playground

Our school playground is the best playground in our locality. It is well maintained by the school authorities and it is very clean too. It is well equipped with all the facilities that are required for a good playground. The equipment include a see-saw, a swing, a slide, a jungle gym and many more. We also have a sandpit where we can play games like volleyball, badminton and cricket.

The playground is very spacious and it is surrounded by a fence so that we can play without any fear. We also have a big garden in our school where we can sit and relax during the breaks. The playground is very well lit and there are no sharp objects lying around. It is the best place to play and have fun.

School playground is used for other purposes as well. We organize seminars and workshops in the playground. We also have our annual sports day in the playground. The ground is also used for scout and guide camping

We enjoy our recess and lunch breaks in the playground. We also have many competitions in the playground like races, lemon-spoon race, three-legged race, etc. We also have a mini marathon every year which is conducted by the school authorities. The playground is the best place to play and have fun. It is the best place to stay active and healthy.

Essay on Why Playground is Important in School:

Playgrounds have been a staple in schools for decades, providing children with a space to run, play and be active. However, with the rise of technology and an increasing focus on academics, playgrounds are often overlooked and considered less important than other aspects of school life. In this essay, we will explore why playgrounds are crucial in the development of children and why they should remain an integral part of schools.

First and foremost, playgrounds provide children with a much-needed break from the structured and often sedentary nature of classroom learning. Recess time allows students to release pent-up energy, socialize with their peers, and engage in physical activities that promote gross motor skills development. This is crucial for their overall well-being as studies have shown that regular physical activity can improve mental health and academic performance. By providing children with a designated space to play, schools are not only promoting healthy habits but also allowing students to recharge their minds and bodies for the next lesson.

In addition to physical benefits, playgrounds also play a significant role in social development. Through unstructured play, children learn how to interact with each other, negotiate, and solve conflicts. This is especially important in today’s digital age, where children are often more comfortable communicating through screens rather than face-to-face interactions. On the playground, they learn valuable skills such as empathy, teamwork, and leadership that are essential for their personal growth. Moreover, playgrounds also offer opportunities for students of different ages to interact and learn from each other, fostering a sense of community and inclusivity within the school.

Playgrounds also serve as a natural learning environment for children. Whether it’s through imaginative play or organized games, children use their creativity and problem-solving skills to navigate and make sense of the world around them. They learn about cause and effect, spatial awareness, and develop critical thinking abilities.

Furthermore, playgrounds can also be used for outdoor lessons, where students can apply what they have learned in the classroom to real-life situations. This not only reinforces academic concepts but also allows for a more hands-on and engaging learning experience.

Lastly, playgrounds provide a sense of joy and happiness for children. Play is essential for their emotional well-being, allowing them to express themselves freely and explore their interests and passions.

It is a crucial outlet for stress relief, which can be especially beneficial for children who may be dealing with difficult personal or academic challenges. By providing a safe and fun environment to play in, schools are promoting a positive school culture and enhancing the overall student experience.

In conclusion, playgrounds are an essential part of schools and should not be overlooked or undervalued. They offer numerous physical, social, academic, and emotional benefits that contribute to the holistic development of children. As educators and parents, it is our responsibility to recognize the importance of play and ensure that playgrounds remain a fundamental aspect of school life for generations to come.

Short Essay on My School Playground For Class 1-2-3 Students:

Playgrounds are a place where children can have fun, learn new things, and make friends. I am fortunate to study in a school that has a big playground for us to play and enjoy ourselves.

My school playground is my favorite place in the entire school. It is located right behind my school building and covers a large area. The ground is covered with lush green grass, and there are many trees planted all around. The playground also has a huge sandpit where we build sandcastles and play games.

My friends and I spend most of our recess time on the playground. We love to play various outdoor games like football, basketball, badminton, and cricket. Our school even holds annual sports competitions in which we participate and showcase our skills.

Apart from playing sports, the playground is also a place where we learn important lessons in life. We learn to work as a team, overcome challenges, and respect rules while playing games on the playground. Furthermore, it is a great way for us to stay active and healthy.

The school authorities ensure that the playground is well-maintained and safe for us to play. They have also installed various play equipment like slides, swings, see-saws, and monkey bars which we love to use during our free time.

>>>>> Read Also:   ” Essay On Cartoons “

In conclusion, my school playground is not just a place for recreation but also a place where I have made unforgettable memories with my friends. I am grateful to have such a fantastic playground in my school, and I will always cherish the time spent there. So, for all children out there, make sure to take advantage of your school playground and have a great time! Keep playing, keep learning! Happy Playing!

  • Promotes physical activity and exercise.
  • Enhances social and emotional development.
  • Fosters teamwork and cooperation.
  • Provides a break from academic studies.
  • Encourages creativity and imagination.
  • Four Square
  • Monkey bars
  • Soccer field

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The Park – 10 Lines, Short & Long Essay For Children

Shraddha Mishra

Key Points To Note: Essay On The Park For Lower Primary Classes

10 lines on the park in english for kids, a paragraph on the park for children, short essay on the park in english for kids, long essay on the park for children.

  • What Will Your Child Learn From This Essay?

A park is where children can run, walk, play, and just be themselves. It’s meant for enjoyment, and there are all sorts of swings, see-saws, and other playground equipment to double the fun. If it’s your first time writing an essay on The Park, you’ll be glad to know that you’re covered. Parks are green spaces and feature various amenities that keep children occupied. A park opens a connection with the outside world and makes kids socially available as they meet and interact with other children. Here is how to write an essay on a park for classes 1, 2, and 3.

Writing about a park is all about describing the location and giving your readers a good overview of the attractions available. Here are some tips to keep in mind when writing an essay on parks for kids:

  • Describe the size, shape, and location of the park in the introductory paragraph.
  • Talk about the unique selling points of the park.
  • Mention nearby alternative parks for those who want to explore more than just one.
  • Summarise with a conclusion paragraph and mention what to look for when visiting these parks.

Essay On The Park For Lower Primary Classes

Some people go to the park in the mornings for a jog, while others meditate. Your kids will likely go there to play and make new friends. You can write a few lines on the park attractions and add notes on how to play safely. Here is how to write an essay for classes 1 and 2:

  • Parks help kids stay healthy and ensure they get enough exercise.
  • They are a creative way to stay mentally fit and alert.
  • Parks have many attractions like swings, slides, etc.
  • Parks come in different sizes; some are large and spacious, while others may be compact.
  • Trees are planted around parks to make the areas more environment-friendly.
  • There are no vehicles and pets allowed in certain parks.
  • A park is a safe place to play for kids.
  • Parks keep our environment clean and make us very happy.
  • People visit the park for cycling, walking, and enjoying leisurely picnics.
  • Some parks are designed smartly, keeping all age groups in mind, and even have benches so that people who get tired can sit. 

A park features running tracks, many types of swings and slides, etc. Some parks have an open gym and special fitness equipment for adults. Here is a   short paragraph on the park   for kids:

My parents take me to the park every day, and I love it. It helps me clear my mind, spend time with my friends, and feel good. I love checking out the basketball court and look forward to using the swings. Sometimes we go boating together since my park has a beautiful lake. A lot of grownups come here to do birdwatching and catch the sunrise. My day would be so dull if parks didn’t exist. The park I visit adds colours, fun, and meaning and gives me something to look forward to in the evenings. Parks make me forget any stress and relax my mind, and I feel rejuvenated when I reach home.

Parks play a huge role in society and encourage everyone to take better care of their surroundings. One can become free and have a good time visiting a nearby park. Here is a short essay for classes 1, 2, and 3 on parks:

A day at the park is like spending a day filled with fun and games. There’s nothing but tons of entertainment and recreation! Some parks host creative workshops, as I saw several artists sketching in public last summer. My mom took me to the park yesterday, and I saw an old man painting pictures. I felt so inspired. I made a few new friends, and we used the see-saws together. No vehicles are allowed in the park; the best part is that it is always so clean. The cotton candy seller is nice and gives me great discounts whenever I visit. I regularly visit the park nearby and bring plenty of snacks from home to share with my friends. Sometimes, I go for an after-meal walk with my parents. It is so satisfying and calming. Playing in the park is so much fun!

The primary purpose of visiting a park is to take the time to unwind and relax. Here is a long   essay for class 3 kids on parks:

Parks are an essential component of town planning. The neighbourhoods look amazing when there are several parks found nearby. My grandparents go to the park with me and enjoy the early mornings by taking walks. It is an excellent way to get healthy and make memories with loved ones. We love watching the sunrise, and the red glow is magical.

We once had a picnic at the park last summer. It was great, and I enjoyed the food while exploring all the different paths. I think parks set an example for society and teach us how to look after the earth. Life would be dull if parks didn’t exist. After studying for hours at home, all I want to do is play at the park. I see many vendors come here and sell snacks, and my parents sometimes give me pocket money to enjoy them. My favourite snacks at the park are popcorn, cotton candy, and gummy bears. I love using the hanging bars at the park and hanging on for as long as I can! It’s a great exercise and it helps me stretch. Sometimes I walk to the park with my parents at night, which is fun because I get to spend quality time with my family. 

What is a park?

A park is a green space with playgrounds, see-saws, swings, jogging tracks, and other facilities that help people de-stress, relax, and have a good time.

What are the different types of parks?

The different types of parks are:

  • Neighbourhood parks
  • Town city square parks
  • Children’s parks
  • Pocket parks
  • Cultural parks

Why does everyone love to visit the park? 

Everyone loves to visit the park because it’s fun, cool, and a safe place to be themselves. It gives some time from the daily hustle and bustle of life.

What Will Your Child Learn From This Essay? 

Your child will learn a lot about how to take better care of the environment. This essay will show them the importance of visiting parks. The kids will be able to explore their inner connection with the park and learn vocabulary to express themselves.

Now that you know about parks, you can work on that essay. Remember, have fun and make happy memories!!

Essay On My Garden for Children School and Family Picnic Essay for Lower Primary Class Kids How to Write An essay On Morning Walk for Children

  • Essays for Class 1
  • Essays for Class 2
  • Essays for Class 3

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Anyways, after being locked in a locker, put headfirst into a toilet, punched and pushed around, called names, played jokes on, and other abuse, I finally had enough. I cracked. I could not psychologically take anymore hurt and punctures to my self-esteem.

A day or two after my birthday, I was on the school basketball court, shooting hoops. My mother had given me a basketball as a gift, and I was reveling in the fun of this new sport. But as expected (though I did not think about it at the time), another child started to bother me. He came up to me, and without a word, took the basketball out of my hands as I was dribbling. I was so shocked and emotionally tied to that gift that without a moment’s notice, I punched the kid in the face. I knocked him down and he immediately ran away crying. I never asked if he was playfully taking the ball from me, but I had had enough bullying in my day to react strongly to such an action.

Apparently, the boy went to the principal and reported my violence. I was called to the principal’s office during my next class, and walked in with my own form of ethics. The boy had been a bully, and he deserved a repercussion. However, the principal and I did not see eye to eye, naturally. He called my mother about the incident, and she was surprised that I would do such a thing. I had always been the quiet kid, playing with toys by himself, or tagging along with other children as more of a witness than a major participant. No one’s mother expects their child to punch someone, but it happens for certain reasons. In my case, I had been dominated by my classmates for years, and that pent-up anger and shame resulted in a violent action.

From then on, I figured out that I did not need to be bullied. I could take action. I found that my anger and resentment gave me a wild strength, which was unmatched by the usual fighting powers of a calm kid. In a way, I went to the dark side (in reference to Star Wars). I found a way to combat my enemies, but not in the healthiest of avenues.

In middle school, I dug my nails into a boy’s arm and restrained him after he made several verbal attacks towards me. He was much bigger and taller than me, but my anger guided me towards illogic and throwing estimating my chances to the wind.

In high school, a junior beat up my twin brother. My brother and I were both freshmen at the time. When I saw him next, I choked him and even dragged him up to a light post, where I banged his head on a metal pole. His girlfriend was watching and was terrified. I do not know exactly what I had come over me, but from that time in elementary school where I first used my fists to resolve an issue, I did not look back. I had found a solution that made me feel strong, confident, and able to take on the world. However, there was one problem: it put holes in my bedroom door, it led to unnecessary attacks on my family, and I found that the sensation of not being able to control my anger troubling.

Thank heavens I started to meditate. By the time I was 19 years old, bullies were not a problem anymore, and I had no use for my boiling anger. When I started to meditate every day, I found that the person beyond the anger was much more agreeable to be around. I wanted to be more like that person every day. So, I continued to meditate daily, and eventually I became the person that I wanted to be. I learned that anger was a temporary solution, but I did not need to drag it on throughout the years. Now, I am much more satisfied to be peaceful inside.

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Essay on Outdoor Games

Introduction.

Children love playing outdoors. It is good for children to stretch their arms and legs instead of sitting in front of the television all day. Through this essay on outdoor games, we will understand the importance of playing outdoors for children.

Outdoor games mainly refer to those games which we play outside in the open air. Since it is played outside, several factors like weather and time must be taken into consideration. It is not possible to play outdoor games when it is raining heavily or when it gets dark as children may fall sick or injure themselves. In this short essay on outdoor games, we will look at the benefits and types of outdoor games so that it will be effortless for children to write an essay on outdoor games in English.

Essay on Outdoor Games

Benefits of Outdoor Games

Just like the way children get to warm up themselves by playing outdoors, there are many advantages associated with outdoor games. We will discuss them here in this essay on outdoor games. The greatest benefit is to their physical health. While playing outdoors, they will be exposed to sunlight which is a rich source of vitamin D. This naturally improves their stamina and strengthens their bones and muscles.

As much as outdoor games help children to stay physically fit, they also keep them emotionally happy, free from tension or stress. We don’t have to worry about their lifestyle as outdoor games are meant to keep all problems at bay. This short essay on outdoor games also emphasises that outdoor games and activities help in the overall development of children. Along with learning to work in a team, these games build confidence in them.

Besides, outdoor games are a way for them to connect with their surroundings and nature, which will enable them to be conscious of protecting our environment . So, let us make our children admire the beauty of nature and help them attain mental peace and happiness through outdoor games.

Varieties of Outdoor Games

Any game or activity done in a group outside a house or in a large playground can be considered an outdoor game. The essay on outdoor games in English will discuss some of the favoured outdoor games of children.

Cricket, Badminton, Football, Marco Polo, Kabaddi , and Catch the Thief are widely played by children of all ages. These games keep them refreshed and relaxed, and they will be able to better focus and retain what they have learnt in class. So, let us make them aware of the significance of outdoor games through this essay on outdoor games. In this way, they will be able to write a simple paragraph about my favourite game.

By making them play outdoor games, we can develop their personality. For more such essays for kids, visit our website.

Frequently Asked Questions on Essay on Outdoor Games

What is the importance of outdoor games.

Outdoor games are essential for the holistic growth of our children. They must make it a routine to engage in outdoor activities and games to build their physical stamina and keep their minds stress-free.

How will this essay on outdoor games be useful for children?

With the help of this essay, children will be able to understand the different types of outdoor games and the benefits of playing them. This will also help them to write an essay on the topic.

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How to use OpenAI Playground, the ChatGPT alternative that can write nearly anything for you

  • The OpenAI Playground lets you ask an AI bot to write nearly anything for you.
  • You can ask the AI questions, start a conversation with it, use it to write short stories, and more.
  • To use the Playground AI, you'll need to make an account on OpenAI's website.

The internet is filled with fun artificial intelligence tools, and the research lab OpenAI is behind a lot of them. OpenAI is responsible for everything from DALL-E , the AI tool that can produce detailed art with a simple prompt, to ChatGPT , the AI bot that can answer questions, have conversations, and even write basic code for developers. 

The technology has made such big waves that companies like Amazon and the Chinese tech firm Baidu are hoping to pump out their own versions of AI chatbots, and Google's leadership declared a "code red" over the technology as its employees were lured into OpenAI's ranks.

If you've never heard of any of these, or if you've been hoping to try them out but haven't had the chance, you can try out another AI tool right now to get a sense of what they can do: OpenAI Playground.

Here's how Playground works, and how to use it.

What is OpenAI Playground? 

Playground, or GPT-3, is a predictive language tool. In other words, it features AIs that are trained to complete or respond to whatever you type in the most authentic, "human" way possible. Bots like this have been around for years (remember Cleverbot?) but the Playground gives you a trial run with some of OpenAI's best tools.

It comes with a few different templates you can use to spark your inspiration. For example, you can pick Chat to have a conversation with the bot, or Q&A to set up a question and answer session with it. But users have had the most fun just asking it to write stories for them, or imagine ideas for new TV shows.

There are other modes that let you input text someone has already written, and have the AI insert new text inside of it, or edit it. You can also change its "temperature" (how logical the response it gives is), its "frequency" (how much it repeats itself), and more.

Playground is mostly free, but has a time limit

When you make your OpenAI account, you're given a credit of $18 to start with. Using the most expensive model, that allows the AI to produce around 650,000 words for you. 

After around four months, the free credits will expire. Once you hit that time limit (or if you use them all up before then), you'll have to buy more.

How to sign up for OpenAI Playground

Before you can use Playground, you'll need to make an OpenAI account. You can do this on a computer or phone.

1. Head to OpenAI's API page and click Sign Up in the top-right. You can log in with your Google or Microsoft account, or sign up with a separate email address. If you use a separate email, you'll need to enter a code they send to you.

2. Enter your name and (if you want) organization, then verify your phone number.

3. When you're asked How will you primarily use OpenAI , choose the option that says I'm exploring personal use .

4. After a moment, you'll be brought to your OpenAI account's landing page. Click Playground at the top of the screen.

You've now got access to the Playground.

Submitting a prompt

When you start, you'll just have a blank text box. Type anything you want into this box and click Submit at the bottom, and the AI will respond to it after a few seconds. Anything the AI gives you will be highlighted in green.

You can experiment to your heart's content with any prompt you can think of. Some examples are:

  • Tell me about the world from the perspective of a deer.
  • Write a poem in the style of Baudelaire.
  • Write a list of ten terms to know the definitions of for the LSAT.
  • Give five random cards (value and suit) from a standard deck of cards.
  • How is speech pathology different from linguistics?

If you're still having trouble coming up with an idea, look to the Load a preset drop-down menu in the top-right corner. These options will insert a prompt you can use to get started.

Regardless of which preset you use, there are many times the AI will shy away from giving a definitive answer or responding to a prompt, especially if questions are opinion-seeking (e.g., "Is green or purple better?") or too broad (e.g., "How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?"). 

Changing models and choosing a plan

To the right of the dialog box, you can find settings you can change, including Model options to choose which AI you want to talk with. OpenAI offers four base language models: Ada, Babbage, Curie, or Davinci. Ada is the fastest, while Davinci provides the most sophisticated responses. 

There are also "fine-tuned" versions of each model that are slightly more expensive and allow you to use your own training data if you have experience with AI. However, you likely won't be able (or need) to use these during your free credit period.

The default option, text-davinci-003 , is the most advanced. The other AIs aren't as smart, but also don't spend as many credits when you generate text with them.

Adjusting advanced settings

Additionally, you'll be able to change how the AI responds in this menu. The most direct way you can do this is by selecting one of the three Mode options:

  • Complete: This is the default mode, which encourages the AI to pick up on your conversation where your input leaves off.
  • Insert: This mode uses the [insert] tag to fill in a blank spot of your choice.
  • Edit: This mode, instead of providing entirely new content, revises existing content to your specifications (e.g., "Rewrite this in a pirate voice" or "Remove 'like' and other filler words.")

There are also the following settings you can change, which are more technical in nature and can be harder to see the direct effects of. A lot of these features exist across OpenAI's tools, so understanding them in one context will likely go a long way as similar AI tools become more mainstream.

  • Maximum length: How long the AI's response can be.
  • Temperature: This affects the "randomness" of the response you get.
  • Show Probabilities: This will highlight various words to show you how the AI is considering and choosing them, based on likelihood.
  • Frequency/Presence penalty: Changes the AI's likelihood of reusing words or discussing the same topics over and over again

Once the settings are to your liking, you can click the Save button in the top right of the page to keep it as a preset for future experiments or projects.

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Axel Springer, Business Insider's parent company, has a global deal to allow OpenAI to train its models on its media brands' reporting.

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  • Main content

My Neighborhood Essay

500 words my neighborhood essay.

As humans , all of us live in a society are bound to a neighbourhood. It is an essential place which has a great impact on our lives. So much so that it does determine where we are in life and how we are doing. It is a fact that if we are not happy in our neighbourhood, we will not live peacefully. Through my neighborhood essay, I will explain about my neighbourhood and the reasons why I love it.

my neighborhood essay

All About My Neighbourhood

I live in a great neighbourhood. It is wonderful because it offers us a lot of facilities. The green park near my house makes the area much more beautiful. Similarly, the swings in the park ensure the kids get to play cheerfully all day long.

Moreover, my neighbourhood also has many other bonuses. A grocery store adjacent to the park makes sure people get all their needs fulfilled without having to go far. All my neighbours buy their things from that grocery store only.

The owner also lives in the same area so he is very cordial with everyone. The grocery store saves everyone a long trip to the market and also their time. The park in my neighbourhood remains clean at all times.

The maintenance team makes sure they clean and sanitize it from time to time. It allows my neighbours to sit and relax in the evenings and take walks in the morning. The clean and fresh air gives everyone a great experience.

Why I Love My Neighbourhood

Apart from the top-notch facilities available in my neighbourhood, we also have amazing neighbours who make our lives better. A good neighbourhood is not made of facilities only but good people as well.

I got lucky in this case because my neighbours are very sweet. They help in maintaining the peace of the area so everyone lives in harmony. I have seen very often that if there is an emergency at anyone’s place, everyone rushes to help.

Similarly, we also organize events from time to time so that the whole neighbourhood gathers and enjoy themselves. I have a lot of friends in my neighbourhood with whom I play.

Most of them are my age so we meet every evening to cycle together and play on swings. We also go to each other’s birthday parties and sing and dance. The most favourite thing about my neighbourhood is definitely the residents.

I always notice how we never let any poor person go back empty-handed. My neighbourhood also organizes a donation drive every year. In this, each family donates clothes, toys and other useful commodities for the needy.

Thus, we all live together as a large family. Even though we live in different houses, our hearts are bounded by the same love and respect for each other.

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Conclusion of My Neighbourhood Essay

All in all, a great neighbourhood is important to have a good life. In fact, our neighbours prove to be more helpful than our relatives sometimes. It is because they live nearby so they are most likely to offer help in emergency situations. Similarly, my neighbourhood is very clean and helpful, thereby making my life happy and content.

FAQ on My Neighborhood Essay

Question 1: What is the importance of a good neighbourhood?

Answer 1: A good neighbourhood is important because it helps in providing a safe and secure atmosphere . When people live in good neighbourhoods, they lead happy lives and spread joy around.

Question 2: Why must we keep our neighbourhood clean?

Answer 2: It is important to keep our neighbourhood clean because it will create a hygienic and serene environment. This way, everyone will be able to enjoy outdoors and it will also prevent any diseases.

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Essay On What Makes Me Happy for Students in English

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  • Updated on  
  • May 30, 2024

essay on what makes me happy

What makes you happy? A normal person is happy when he/ she is surrounded by his/ her loved ones. Family, friends, success in life, and personal interests are the main factors determining our happiness. However, feeling happy is a subjective view that differs from person to person. Here are some samples of how to write an essay on what makes me happy for school students.

Table of Contents

  • 1 Short Essay On What Makes Me Happy
  • 2 Essay On What Makes Me Happy For Class 6 
  • 3 10 Things That Makes Me Happy

Short Essay On What Makes Me Happy

Also Read: National Science Day

Essay On What Makes Me Happy For Class 6 

Also Read: Digital India for Students

10 Things That Makes Me Happy

  • Spending time with my family and friends- Spending time with my loved ones makes me very happy. Whether it’s doing an activity together or simply enjoying each other’s company in silence, these simple moments are worth sharing with your friends and family.
  • Connecting with nature – Nature provides a sense of relaxation and calm. The sound of birds and a calm breeze might bring you joy along with peace.
  • Engaging in hobbies – Doing something you enjoy can connect you to your creative side, which can provide a sense of relaxation and happiness.
  • Helping others – Helping others, even in simple ways like being nice or offering a listening ear, can give you a sense of purpose and fulfilment. 
  • Learning new things – Learning something new can provide a sense of satisfaction, which promotes growth. This might be a great opportunity to grow in a variety of ways.
  • Achieving goals – Achieving your goal after a lot of effort can provide a sense of accomplishment and fulfilment, bringing peace to one’s mind.
  • Enjoying a good meal – A good meal can improve your mood. So, whether you’re making or eating meal, it will give you a lot of joy.
  • Expressing Gratitude- Acknowledging and appreciating the things around us reflects blessings in our life, which promotes a sense of contentment.
  • Relax – Relaxing does not just mean sleeping or taking a nap; it also includes ways that recover your body from tiredness. It could be a relaxing bath, meditation, or anything else that reduces stress.
  • Laughter – Laughing for a few seconds can instantly improve your mood. Have a good laugh whenever you get the chance. It can be an inside joke or watching a comedy scene; just a few seconds can re-energize you.

A.1 True and lasting happiness comes from deeper sources like meaningful relationships, personal fulfilment, and a sense of life satisfaction.

A.2 Being in nature brings peace, which reduces anger, anxiety, and stress. Spending a few minutes in nature can improve your emotional well-being.

A.3 Happiness differs from person to person because everyone has a different sense of what makes them happy. Their pleasure is determined by their life expectations, cultural and societal impact, and purpose in life.

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I want to keep my child safe from abuse − but research tells me I’m doing it wrong

write an essay about your playground

Founder and Executive Director, Center for Violence Prevention Research; Affiliate Faculty with the Crimes Against Children Research Center, University of New Hampshire

Disclosure statement

Melissa Bright receives funding from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the World Childhood Foundation (via work with Stop it Now!).

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Child sexual abuse is uncomfortable to think about, much less talk about. The idea of an adult engaging in sexual behaviors with a child feels sickening. It’s easiest to believe that it rarely happens, and when it does, that it’s only to children whose parents aren’t protecting them.

This belief stayed with me during my early days as a parent. I kept an eye out for creepy men at the playground and was skeptical of men who worked with young children, such as teachers and coaches. When my kids were old enough, I taught them what a “good touch” was, like a hug from a family member, and what a “bad touch” was, like someone touching their private parts.

But after nearly a quarter-century of conducting research – 15 years on family violence, another eight on child abuse prevention, including sexual abuse – I realized that many people, including me, were using antiquated strategies to protect our children .

As the founder of the Center for Violence Prevention Research , I work with organizations that educate their communities and provide direct services to survivors of child sexual abuse. From them, I have learned much about the everyday actions all of us can take to help keep our children safe. Some of it may surprise you.

Wrong assumptions

First, my view of what constitutes child sexual abuse was too narrow. Certainly, all sexual activities between adults and children are a form of abuse.

But child sexual abuse also includes nonconsensual sexual contact between two children. It includes noncontact offenses such as sexual harassment, exhibitionism and using children to produce imagery of sexual abuse. Technology-based child sexual abuse is rising quickly with the rapid evolution of internet-based games, social media, and content generated by artificial intelligence. Reports to the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children of online enticements increased 300% from 2021 to 2023 .

My assumption that child sexual abuse didn’t happen in my community was wrong too. The latest data shows that at least 1 in 10 children, but likely closer to 1 in 5, experience sexual abuse . Statistically, that’s at least two children in my son’s kindergarten class.

Child sexual abuse happens across all ethnoracial groups, socioeconomic statuses and all gender identities. Reports of female victims outnumber males , but male victimization is likely underreported because of stigma and cultural norms about masculinity .

I’ve learned that identifying the “creepy man” at the playground is not an effective strategy. At least 90% of child sexual abusers know their victims or the victims’ family prior to offending. Usually, the abuser is a trusted member of the community; sometimes, it’s a family member .

In other words, rather than search for a predator in the park, parents need to look at the circle of people they invite into their home.

To be clear, abuse by strangers does happen, and teaching our kids to be wary of strangers is necessary. But it’s the exception, not the norm , for child sexual abuse offenses.

Most of the time, it’s not even adults causing the harm. The latest data shows more than 70% of self-reported child sexual abuse is committed by other juveniles . Nearly 1 in 10 young people say they caused some type of sexual harm to another child . Their average age at the time of causing harm is between 14 and 16.

Now for a bit of good news: The belief that people who sexually abuse children are innately evil is an oversimplification. In reality, only about 13% of adults and approximately 5% of adolescents who sexually harm children commit another sexual offense after five years . The recidivism rate is even lower for those who receive therapeutic help .

By contrast, approximately 44% of adults who commit a felony of any kind will commit another offense within a year of prison release .

What parents can do

The latest research says uncomfortable conversations are necessary to keep kids safe. Here are some recommended strategies:

Avoid confusing language. “Good touches” and “bad touches” are no longer appropriate descriptors of abuse . Harmful touches can feel physically good, rather than painful or “bad.” Abusers can also manipulate children to believe their touches are acts of love.

The research shows that it’s better to talk to children about touches that are “OK” or “not OK,” based on who does the touching and where they touch. This dissipates the confusion of something being bad but feeling good.

These conversations require clear identification of all body parts, from head and shoulders to penis and vagina. Using accurate anatomical labels teaches children that all body parts can be discussed openly with safe adults. Also, when children use accurate labels to disclose abuse, they are more likely to be understood and believed.

Encourage bodily autonomy. Telling my children that hugs from family members were universally good touches was also wrong . If children think they have to give hugs on demand, it conveys the message they do not have authority over their body.

Instead, I watch when my child is asked for a hug at family gatherings – if he hesitates, I advocate for him. I tell family members that physical touch is not mandatory and explain why – something like: “He prefers a bit more personal space, and we’re working on teaching him that he can decide who touches him and when. He really likes to give high-fives to show affection.” A heads-up: Often, the adults are put off, at least initially.

In my family, we also don’t allow the use of guilt to encourage affection. That includes phrases like: “You’ll make me sad if you don’t give me a hug.”

Promote empowerment. Research on adult sexual offenders found the greatest deterrence to completing the act was a vocal child – one who expressed their desire to stop, or said they would tell others.

Monitor your child’s social media. Multiple studies show that monitoring guards against sexting or viewing of pornography , both of which are risk factors for child sexual abuse. Monitoring can also reveal permissive or dangerous sexual attitudes the child might have.

Talk to the adults in your circle. Ask those watching your child how they plan to keep your child safe when in their care. Admittedly, this can be an awkward conversation. I might say, “Hey, I have a few questions that might sound weird, but I think they’re important for parents to ask. I’m sure my child will be safe with you, but I’m trying to talk about these things regularly, so this is good practice for me.” You may need to educate them on what the research shows.

Ask your child’s school what they’re doing to educate students and staff about child sexual abuse. Many states require schools to provide prevention education; recent research suggests these programs help children protect themselves from sexual abuse .

Talk to your child’s sports or activity organization. Ask what procedures are in place to keep children safe . This includes their screening and hiring practices, how they train and educate staff, and their guidelines for reporting abuse. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention provides a guide for organizations on keeping children safe .

Rely on updated research. Finally, when searching online for information, look for research that’s relatively recent – dated within the past five years. These studies should be published in peer-reviewed journals .

And then be prepared for a jolt. You may discover the conventional wisdom you’ve clung to all these years may be based on outdated – and even harmful – information.

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  • Child safety

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Alfonso Cuarón Assigned His ‘Harry Potter’ Cast Homework: Write an Essay About Your Character

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Alfonso Cuarón knew he wanted franchise installment “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” to be different from the other “Potter” films. So the professor assigned his Hogwarts, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff students some homework.

The director wanted the 2004 “Harry Potter” feature to have a “noir” tone, which Cuarón believed would best present the coming-of-age moment for both the trio of characters played by Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Rupert Grint, as well as for the film series itself.

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Cuarón was the first new director to step in after Chris Columbus directed the first two films.

“Chris [Columbus] would help them with intonation and get them excited; Alfonso was treating them as young adults: what are you feeling?” the franchise’s producer David Heyman recalled to Total Film for a 20th-anniversary retrospective interview.

Part of getting the core cast to grow up onscreen was to have each actor meditate on their respective characters’ motivations. Cuarón went so far as to assign each a writing task.

“Alfonso also had the three kids write essays about their characters,” Heyman said. “Dan wrote a page, Emma wrote 10 or 12, and Rupert didn’t give in anything. Just perfect.”

As Cuarón himself told Total Film, “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” was a risky move for his own career.

“The first two ‘Potters’ deal with children’s experience,” Cuarón said. “Characters who are 11 and 12. Innocence. A purity even in the way they see the danger. We were dealing with the first sting of questioning everything, particularly who you are. Suddenly you are not part of the whole; there is a teenage separation.”

Cuarón added that working with Radcliffe, Watson, and Grint especially marked a turning point in the rising actors’ careers.

“They were becoming more aware of the craft of acting and they wanted to go to the next stage,” Cuarón said. “From the get-go we talked about how we wanted to ground everything, to make it about a normal human experience in this world. [We wanted to explore] the internal life of each one of these characters. They were incredibly intuitive about this, and very receptive.”

Yet as Cuarón previously admitted, he was skeptical of taking the gig from the beginning. Heyman explained that other directors M. Night Shyamalan, Callie Khouri, Marc Forster, Kenneth Branagh, and Guillermo del Toro were discussed for the third “Potter” feature before Cuarón was approached.

In fact, del Toro even helped convince Cuarón to agree to direct “The Prisoner of Azkaban.”

“I speak often with Guillermo [del Toro], and a couple of days after, I said, ‘You know, they offered me this “Harry Potter” film, but it’s really weird they offer me this,'” Cuarón told Total Film. “He said, ‘Wait, wait, wait, you said you haven’t read “Harry Potter”?’ I said, ‘I don’t think it’s for me.’ In very florid lexicon, in Spanish, he said, ‘You are an arrogant asshole.'”

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photo of Icon of the Seas, taken on a long railed path approaching the stern of the ship, with people walking along dock

Crying Myself to Sleep on the Biggest Cruise Ship Ever

Seven agonizing nights aboard the Icon of the Seas

photo of Icon of the Seas, taken on a long railed path approaching the stern of the ship, with people walking along dock

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Updated at 2:44 p.m. ET on April 6, 2024.

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MY FIRST GLIMPSE of Royal Caribbean’s Icon of the Seas, from the window of an approaching Miami cab, brings on a feeling of vertigo, nausea, amazement, and distress. I shut my eyes in defense, as my brain tells my optic nerve to try again.

The ship makes no sense, vertically or horizontally. It makes no sense on sea, or on land, or in outer space. It looks like a hodgepodge of domes and minarets, tubes and canopies, like Istanbul had it been designed by idiots. Vibrant, oversignifying colors are stacked upon other such colors, decks perched over still more decks; the only comfort is a row of lifeboats ringing its perimeter. There is no imposed order, no cogent thought, and, for those who do not harbor a totalitarian sense of gigantomania, no visual mercy. This is the biggest cruise ship ever built, and I have been tasked with witnessing its inaugural voyage.

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“Author embarks on their first cruise-ship voyage” has been a staple of American essay writing for almost three decades, beginning with David Foster Wallace’s “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again,” which was first published in 1996 under the title “Shipping Out.” Since then, many admirable writers have widened and diversified the genre. Usually the essayist commissioned to take to the sea is in their first or second flush of youth and is ready to sharpen their wit against the hull of the offending vessel. I am 51, old and tired, having seen much of the world as a former travel journalist, and mostly what I do in both life and prose is shrug while muttering to my imaginary dachshund, “This too shall pass.” But the Icon of the Seas will not countenance a shrug. The Icon of the Seas is the Linda Loman of cruise ships, exclaiming that attention must be paid. And here I am in late January with my one piece of luggage and useless gray winter jacket and passport, zipping through the Port of Miami en route to the gangway that will separate me from the bulk of North America for more than seven days, ready to pay it in full.

The aforementioned gangway opens up directly onto a thriving mall (I will soon learn it is imperiously called the “Royal Promenade”), presently filled with yapping passengers beneath a ceiling studded with balloons ready to drop. Crew members from every part of the global South, as well as a few Balkans, are shepherding us along while pressing flutes of champagne into our hands. By a humming Starbucks, I drink as many of these as I can and prepare to find my cabin. I show my blue Suite Sky SeaPass Card (more on this later, much more) to a smiling woman from the Philippines, and she tells me to go “aft.” Which is where, now? As someone who has rarely sailed on a vessel grander than the Staten Island Ferry, I am confused. It turns out that the aft is the stern of the ship, or, for those of us who don’t know what a stern or an aft are, its ass. The nose of the ship, responsible for separating the waves before it, is also called a bow, and is marked for passengers as the FWD , or forward. The part of the contemporary sailing vessel where the malls are clustered is called the midship. I trust that you have enjoyed this nautical lesson.

I ascend via elevator to my suite on Deck 11. This is where I encounter my first terrible surprise. My suite windows and balcony do not face the ocean. Instead, they look out onto another shopping mall. This mall is the one that’s called Central Park, perhaps in homage to the Olmsted-designed bit of greenery in the middle of my hometown. Although on land I would be delighted to own a suite with Central Park views, here I am deeply depressed. To sail on a ship and not wake up to a vast blue carpet of ocean? Unthinkable.

Allow me a brief preamble here. The story you are reading was commissioned at a moment when most staterooms on the Icon were sold out. In fact, so enthralled by the prospect of this voyage were hard-core mariners that the ship’s entire inventory of guest rooms (the Icon can accommodate up to 7,600 passengers, but its inaugural journey was reduced to 5,000 or so for a less crowded experience) was almost immediately sold out. Hence, this publication was faced with the shocking prospect of paying nearly $19,000 to procure for this solitary passenger an entire suite—not including drinking expenses—all for the privilege of bringing you this article. But the suite in question doesn’t even have a view of the ocean! I sit down hard on my soft bed. Nineteen thousand dollars for this .

selfie photo of man with glasses, in background is swim-up bar with two women facing away

The viewless suite does have its pluses. In addition to all the Malin+Goetz products in my dual bathrooms, I am granted use of a dedicated Suite Deck lounge; access to Coastal Kitchen, a superior restaurant for Suites passengers; complimentary VOOM SM Surf & Stream (“the fastest Internet at Sea”) “for one device per person for the whole cruise duration”; a pair of bathrobes (one of which comes prestained with what looks like a large expectoration by the greenest lizard on Earth); and use of the Grove Suite Sun, an area on Decks 18 and 19 with food and deck chairs reserved exclusively for Suite passengers. I also get reserved seating for a performance of The Wizard of Oz , an ice-skating tribute to the periodic table, and similar provocations. The very color of my Suite Sky SeaPass Card, an oceanic blue as opposed to the cloying royal purple of the standard non-Suite passenger, will soon provoke envy and admiration. But as high as my status may be, there are those on board who have much higher status still, and I will soon learn to bow before them.

In preparation for sailing, I have “priced in,” as they say on Wall Street, the possibility that I may come from a somewhat different monde than many of the other cruisers. Without falling into stereotypes or preconceptions, I prepare myself for a friendly outspokenness on the part of my fellow seafarers that may not comply with modern DEI standards. I believe in meeting people halfway, and so the day before flying down to Miami, I visited what remains of Little Italy to purchase a popular T-shirt that reads DADDY’S LITTLE MEATBALL across the breast in the colors of the Italian flag. My wife recommended that I bring one of my many T-shirts featuring Snoopy and the Peanuts gang, as all Americans love the beagle and his friends. But I naively thought that my meatball T-shirt would be more suitable for conversation-starting. “Oh, and who is your ‘daddy’?” some might ask upon seeing it. “And how long have you been his ‘little meatball’?” And so on.

I put on my meatball T-shirt and head for one of the dining rooms to get a late lunch. In the elevator, I stick out my chest for all to read the funny legend upon it, but soon I realize that despite its burnished tricolor letters, no one takes note. More to the point, no one takes note of me. Despite my attempts at bridge building, the very sight of me (small, ethnic, without a cap bearing the name of a football team) elicits no reaction from other passengers. Most often, they will small-talk over me as if I don’t exist. This brings to mind the travails of David Foster Wallace , who felt so ostracized by his fellow passengers that he retreated to his cabin for much of his voyage. And Wallace was raised primarily in the Midwest and was a much larger, more American-looking meatball than I am. If he couldn’t talk to these people, how will I? What if I leave this ship without making any friends at all, despite my T-shirt? I am a social creature, and the prospect of seven days alone and apart is saddening. Wallace’s stateroom, at least, had a view of the ocean, a kind of cheap eternity.

Worse awaits me in the dining room. This is a large, multichandeliered room where I attended my safety training (I was shown how to put on a flotation vest; it is a very simple procedure). But the maître d’ politely refuses me entry in an English that seems to verge on another language. “I’m sorry, this is only for pendejos ,” he seems to be saying. I push back politely and he repeats himself. Pendejos ? Piranhas? There’s some kind of P-word to which I am not attuned. Meanwhile elderly passengers stream right past, powered by their limbs, walkers, and electric wheelchairs. “It is only pendejo dining today, sir.” “But I have a suite!” I say, already starting to catch on to the ship’s class system. He examines my card again. “But you are not a pendejo ,” he confirms. I am wearing a DADDY’S LITTLE MEATBALL T-shirt, I want to say to him. I am the essence of pendejo .

Eventually, I give up and head to the plebeian buffet on Deck 15, which has an aquatic-styled name I have now forgotten. Before gaining entry to this endless cornucopia of reheated food, one passes a washing station of many sinks and soap dispensers, and perhaps the most intriguing character on the entire ship. He is Mr. Washy Washy—or, according to his name tag, Nielbert of the Philippines—and he is dressed as a taco (on other occasions, I’ll see him dressed as a burger). Mr. Washy Washy performs an eponymous song in spirited, indeed flamboyant English: “Washy, washy, wash your hands, WASHY WASHY!” The dangers of norovirus and COVID on a cruise ship this size (a giant fellow ship was stricken with the former right after my voyage) makes Mr. Washy Washy an essential member of the crew. The problem lies with the food at the end of Washy’s rainbow. The buffet is groaning with what sounds like sophisticated dishes—marinated octopus, boiled egg with anchovy, chorizo, lobster claws—but every animal tastes tragically the same, as if there was only one creature available at the market, a “cruisipus” bred specifically for Royal Caribbean dining. The “vegetables” are no better. I pick up a tomato slice and look right through it. It tastes like cellophane. I sit alone, apart from the couples and parents with gaggles of children, as “We Are Family” echoes across the buffet space.

I may have failed to mention that all this time, the Icon of the Seas has not left port. As the fiery mango of the subtropical setting sun makes Miami’s condo skyline even more apocalyptic, the ship shoves off beneath a perfunctory display of fireworks. After the sun sets, in the far, dark distance, another circus-lit cruise ship ruptures the waves before us. We glance at it with pity, because it is by definition a smaller ship than our own. I am on Deck 15, outside the buffet and overlooking a bunch of pools (the Icon has seven of them), drinking a frilly drink that I got from one of the bars (the Icon has 15 of them), still too shy to speak to anyone, despite Sister Sledge’s assertion that all on the ship are somehow related.

Kim Brooks: On failing the family vacation

The ship’s passage away from Ron DeSantis’s Florida provides no frisson, no sense of developing “sea legs,” as the ship is too large to register the presence of waves unless a mighty wind adds significant chop. It is time for me to register the presence of the 5,000 passengers around me, even if they refuse to register mine. My fellow travelers have prepared for this trip with personally decorated T-shirts celebrating the importance of this voyage. The simplest ones say ICON INAUGURAL ’24 on the back and the family name on the front. Others attest to an over-the-top love of cruise ships: WARNING! MAY START TALKING ABOUT CRUISING . Still others are artisanally designed and celebrate lifetimes spent married while cruising (on ships, of course). A couple possibly in their 90s are wearing shirts whose backs feature a drawing of a cruise liner, two flamingos with ostensibly male and female characteristics, and the legend “ HUSBAND AND WIFE Cruising Partners FOR LIFE WE MAY NOT HAVE IT All Together BUT TOGETHER WE HAVE IT ALL .” (The words not in all caps have been written in cursive.) A real journalist or a more intrepid conversationalist would have gone up to the couple and asked them to explain the longevity of their marriage vis-à-vis their love of cruising. But instead I head to my mall suite, take off my meatball T-shirt, and allow the first tears of the cruise to roll down my cheeks slowly enough that I briefly fall asleep amid the moisture and salt.

photo of elaborate twisting multicolored waterslides with long stairwell to platform

I WAKE UP with a hangover. Oh God. Right. I cannot believe all of that happened last night. A name floats into my cobwebbed, nauseated brain: “Ayn Rand.” Jesus Christ.

I breakfast alone at the Coastal Kitchen. The coffee tastes fine and the eggs came out of a bird. The ship rolls slightly this morning; I can feel it in my thighs and my schlong, the parts of me that are most receptive to danger.

I had a dangerous conversation last night. After the sun set and we were at least 50 miles from shore (most modern cruise ships sail at about 23 miles an hour), I lay in bed softly hiccupping, my arms stretched out exactly like Jesus on the cross, the sound of the distant waves missing from my mall-facing suite, replaced by the hum of air-conditioning and children shouting in Spanish through the vents of my two bathrooms. I decided this passivity was unacceptable. As an immigrant, I feel duty-bound to complete the tasks I am paid for, which means reaching out and trying to understand my fellow cruisers. So I put on a normal James Perse T-shirt and headed for one of the bars on the Royal Promenade—the Schooner Bar, it was called, if memory serves correctly.

I sat at the bar for a martini and two Negronis. An old man with thick, hairy forearms drank next to me, very silent and Hemingwaylike, while a dreadlocked piano player tinkled out a series of excellent Elton John covers. To my right, a young white couple—he in floral shorts, she in a light, summery miniskirt with a fearsome diamond ring, neither of them in football regalia—chatted with an elderly couple. Do it , I commanded myself. Open your mouth. Speak! Speak without being spoken to. Initiate. A sentence fragment caught my ear from the young woman, “Cherry Hill.” This is a suburb of Philadelphia in New Jersey, and I had once been there for a reading at a synagogue. “Excuse me,” I said gently to her. “Did you just mention Cherry Hill? It’s a lovely place.”

As it turned out, the couple now lived in Fort Lauderdale (the number of Floridians on the cruise surprised me, given that Southern Florida is itself a kind of cruise ship, albeit one slowly sinking), but soon they were talking with me exclusively—the man potbellied, with a chin like a hard-boiled egg; the woman as svelte as if she were one of the many Ukrainian members of the crew—the elderly couple next to them forgotten. This felt as groundbreaking as the first time I dared to address an American in his native tongue, as a child on a bus in Queens (“On my foot you are standing, Mister”).

“I don’t want to talk politics,” the man said. “But they’re going to eighty-six Biden and put Michelle in.”

I considered the contradictions of his opening conversational gambit, but decided to play along. “People like Michelle,” I said, testing the waters. The husband sneered, but the wife charitably put forward that the former first lady was “more personable” than Joe Biden. “They’re gonna eighty-six Biden,” the husband repeated. “He can’t put a sentence together.”

After I mentioned that I was a writer—though I presented myself as a writer of teleplays instead of novels and articles such as this one—the husband told me his favorite writer was Ayn Rand. “Ayn Rand, she came here with nothing,” the husband said. “I work with a lot of Cubans, so …” I wondered if I should mention what I usually do to ingratiate myself with Republicans or libertarians: the fact that my finances improved after pass-through corporations were taxed differently under Donald Trump. Instead, I ordered another drink and the couple did the same, and I told him that Rand and I were born in the same city, St. Petersburg/Leningrad, and that my family also came here with nothing. Now the bonding and drinking began in earnest, and several more rounds appeared. Until it all fell apart.

Read: Gary Shteyngart on watching Russian television for five days straight

My new friend, whom I will refer to as Ayn, called out to a buddy of his across the bar, and suddenly a young couple, both covered in tattoos, appeared next to us. “He fucking punked me,” Ayn’s frat-boy-like friend called out as he put his arm around Ayn, while his sizable partner sizzled up to Mrs. Rand. Both of them had a look I have never seen on land—their eyes projecting absence and enmity in equal measure. In the ’90s, I drank with Russian soldiers fresh from Chechnya and wandered the streets of wartime Zagreb, but I have never seen such undisguised hostility toward both me and perhaps the universe at large. I was briefly introduced to this psychopathic pair, but neither of them wanted to have anything to do with me, and the tattooed woman would not even reveal her Christian name to me (she pretended to have the same first name as Mrs. Rand). To impress his tattooed friends, Ayn made fun of the fact that as a television writer, I’d worked on the series Succession (which, it would turn out, practically nobody on the ship had watched), instead of the far more palatable, in his eyes, zombie drama of last year. And then my new friends drifted away from me into an angry private conversation—“He punked me!”—as I ordered another drink for myself, scared of the dead-eyed arrivals whose gaze never registered in the dim wattage of the Schooner Bar, whose terrifying voices and hollow laughs grated like unoiled gears against the crooning of “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.”

But today is a new day for me and my hangover. After breakfast, I explore the ship’s so-called neighborhoods . There’s the AquaDome, where one can find a food hall and an acrobatic sound-and-light aquatic show. Central Park has a premium steak house, a sushi joint, and a used Rolex that can be bought for $8,000 on land here proudly offered at $17,000. There’s the aforementioned Royal Promenade, where I had drunk with the Rands, and where a pair of dueling pianos duel well into the night. There’s Surfside, a kids’ neighborhood full of sugary garbage, which looks out onto the frothy trail that the behemoth leaves behind itself. Thrill Island refers to the collection of tubes that clutter the ass of the ship and offer passengers six waterslides and a surfing simulation. There’s the Hideaway, an adult zone that plays music from a vomit-slathered, Brit-filled Alicante nightclub circa 1996 and proves a big favorite with groups of young Latin American customers. And, most hurtfully, there’s the Suite Neighborhood.

2 photos: a ship's foamy white wake stretches to the horizon; a man at reailing with water and two large ships docked behind

I say hurtfully because as a Suite passenger I should be here, though my particular suite is far from the others. Whereas I am stuck amid the riffraff of Deck 11, this section is on the highborn Decks 16 and 17, and in passing, I peek into the spacious, tall-ceilinged staterooms from the hallway, dazzled by the glint of the waves and sun. For $75,000, one multifloor suite even comes with its own slide between floors, so that a family may enjoy this particular terror in private. There is a quiet splendor to the Suite Neighborhood. I see fewer stickers and signs and drawings than in my own neighborhood—for example, MIKE AND DIANA PROUDLY SERVED U.S. MARINE CORPS RETIRED . No one here needs to announce their branch of service or rank; they are simply Suites, and this is where they belong. Once again, despite my hard work and perseverance, I have been disallowed from the true American elite. Once again, I am “Not our class, dear.” I am reminded of watching The Love Boat on my grandmother’s Zenith, which either was given to her or we found in the trash (I get our many malfunctioning Zeniths confused) and whose tube got so hot, I would put little chunks of government cheese on a thin tissue atop it to give our welfare treat a pleasant, Reagan-era gooeyness. I could not understand English well enough then to catch the nuances of that seafaring program, but I knew that there were differences in the status of the passengers, and that sometimes those differences made them sad. Still, this ship, this plenty—every few steps, there are complimentary nachos or milkshakes or gyros on offer—was the fatty fuel of my childhood dreams. If only I had remained a child.

I walk around the outdoor decks looking for company. There is a middle-aged African American couple who always seem to be asleep in each other’s arms, probably exhausted from the late capitalism they regularly encounter on land. There is far more diversity on this ship than I expected. Many couples are a testament to Loving v. Virginia , and there is a large group of folks whose T-shirts read MELANIN AT SEA / IT’S THE MELANIN FOR ME . I smile when I see them, but then some young kids from the group makes Mr. Washy Washy do a cruel, caricatured “Burger Dance” (today he is in his burger getup), and I think, Well, so much for intersectionality .

At the infinity pool on Deck 17, I spot some elderly women who could be ethnic and from my part of the world, and so I jump in. I am proved correct! Many of them seem to be originally from Queens (“Corona was still great when it was all Italian”), though they are now spread across the tristate area. We bond over the way “Ron-kon-koma” sounds when announced in Penn Station.

“Everyone is here for a different reason,” one of them tells me. She and her ex-husband last sailed together four years ago to prove to themselves that their marriage was truly over. Her 15-year-old son lost his virginity to “an Irish young lady” while their ship was moored in Ravenna, Italy. The gaggle of old-timers competes to tell me their favorite cruising stories and tips. “A guy proposed in Central Park a couple of years ago”—many Royal Caribbean ships apparently have this ridiculous communal area—“and she ran away screaming!” “If you’re diamond-class, you get four drinks for free.” “A different kind of passenger sails out of Bayonne.” (This, perhaps, is racially coded.) “Sometimes, if you tip the bartender $5, your next drink will be free.”

“Everyone’s here for a different reason,” the woman whose marriage ended on a cruise tells me again. “Some people are here for bad reasons—the drinkers and the gamblers. Some people are here for medical reasons.” I have seen more than a few oxygen tanks and at least one woman clearly undergoing very serious chemo. Some T-shirts celebrate good news about a cancer diagnosis. This might be someone’s last cruise or week on Earth. For these women, who have spent months, if not years, at sea, cruising is a ritual as well as a life cycle: first love, last love, marriage, divorce, death.

Read: The last place on Earth any tourist should go

I have talked with these women for so long, tonight I promise myself that after a sad solitary dinner I will not try to seek out company at the bars in the mall or the adult-themed Hideaway. I have enough material to fulfill my duties to this publication. As I approach my orphaned suite, I run into the aggro young people who stole Mr. and Mrs. Rand away from me the night before. The tattooed apparitions pass me without a glance. She is singing something violent about “Stuttering Stanley” (a character in a popular horror movie, as I discover with my complimentary VOOM SM Surf & Stream Internet at Sea) and he’s loudly shouting about “all the money I’ve lost,” presumably at the casino in the bowels of the ship.

So these bent psychos out of a Cormac McCarthy novel are angrily inhabiting my deck. As I mewl myself to sleep, I envision a limited series for HBO or some other streamer, a kind of low-rent White Lotus , where several aggressive couples conspire to throw a shy intellectual interloper overboard. I type the scenario into my phone. As I fall asleep, I think of what the woman who recently divorced her husband and whose son became a man through the good offices of the Irish Republic told me while I was hoisting myself out of the infinity pool. “I’m here because I’m an explorer. I’m here because I’m trying something new.” What if I allowed myself to believe in her fantasy?

2 photos: 2 slices of pizza on plate; man in "Daddy's Little Meatball" shirt and shorts standing in outdoor dining area with ship's exhaust stacks in background

“YOU REALLY STARTED AT THE TOP,” they tell me. I’m at the Coastal Kitchen for my eggs and corned-beef hash, and the maître d’ has slotted me in between two couples. Fueled by coffee or perhaps intrigued by my relative youth, they strike up a conversation with me. As always, people are shocked that this is my first cruise. They contrast the Icon favorably with all the preceding liners in the Royal Caribbean fleet, usually commenting on the efficiency of the elevators that hurl us from deck to deck (as in many large corporate buildings, the elevators ask you to choose a floor and then direct you to one of many lifts). The couple to my right, from Palo Alto—he refers to his “porn mustache” and calls his wife “my cougar” because she is two years older—tell me they are “Pandemic Pinnacles.”

This is the day that my eyes will be opened. Pinnacles , it is explained to me over translucent cantaloupe, have sailed with Royal Caribbean for 700 ungodly nights. Pandemic Pinnacles took advantage of the two-for-one accrual rate of Pinnacle points during the pandemic, when sailing on a cruise ship was even more ill-advised, to catapult themselves into Pinnacle status.

Because of the importance of the inaugural voyage of the world’s largest cruise liner, more than 200 Pinnacles are on this ship, a startling number, it seems. Mrs. Palo Alto takes out a golden badge that I have seen affixed over many a breast, which reads CROWN AND ANCHOR SOCIETY along with her name. This is the coveted badge of the Pinnacle. “You should hear all the whining in Guest Services,” her husband tells me. Apparently, the Pinnacles who are not also Suites like us are all trying to use their status to get into Coastal Kitchen, our elite restaurant. Even a Pinnacle needs to be a Suite to access this level of corned-beef hash.

“We’re just baby Pinnacles,” Mrs. Palo Alto tells me, describing a kind of internal class struggle among the Pinnacle elite for ever higher status.

And now I understand what the maître d’ was saying to me on the first day of my cruise. He wasn’t saying “ pendejo .” He was saying “Pinnacle.” The dining room was for Pinnacles only, all those older people rolling in like the tide on their motorized scooters.

And now I understand something else: This whole thing is a cult. And like most cults, it can’t help but mirror the endless American fight for status. Like Keith Raniere’s NXIVM, where different-colored sashes were given out to connote rank among Raniere’s branded acolytes, this is an endless competition among Pinnacles, Suites, Diamond-Plusers, and facing-the-mall, no-balcony purple SeaPass Card peasants, not to mention the many distinctions within each category. The more you cruise, the higher your status. No wonder a section of the Royal Promenade is devoted to getting passengers to book their next cruise during the one they should be enjoying now. No wonder desperate Royal Caribbean offers (“FINAL HOURS”) crowded my email account weeks before I set sail. No wonder the ship’s jewelry store, the Royal Bling, is selling a $100,000 golden chalice that will entitle its owner to drink free on Royal Caribbean cruises for life. (One passenger was already gaming out whether her 28-year-old son was young enough to “just about earn out” on the chalice or if that ship had sailed.) No wonder this ship was sold out months before departure , and we had to pay $19,000 for a horrid suite away from the Suite Neighborhood. No wonder the most mythical hero of Royal Caribbean lore is someone named Super Mario, who has cruised so often, he now has his own working desk on many ships. This whole experience is part cult, part nautical pyramid scheme.

From the June 2014 issue: Ship of wonks

“The toilets are amazing,” the Palo Altos are telling me. “One flush and you’re done.” “They don’t understand how energy-efficient these ships are,” the husband of the other couple is telling me. “They got the LNG”—liquefied natural gas, which is supposed to make the Icon a boon to the environment (a concept widely disputed and sometimes ridiculed by environmentalists).

But I’m thinking along a different line of attack as I spear my last pallid slice of melon. For my streaming limited series, a Pinnacle would have to get killed by either an outright peasant or a Suite without an ocean view. I tell my breakfast companions my idea.

“Oh, for sure a Pinnacle would have to be killed,” Mr. Palo Alto, the Pandemic Pinnacle, says, touching his porn mustache thoughtfully as his wife nods.

“THAT’S RIGHT, IT’S your time, buddy!” Hubert, my fun-loving Panamanian cabin attendant, shouts as I step out of my suite in a robe. “Take it easy, buddy!”

I have come up with a new dressing strategy. Instead of trying to impress with my choice of T-shirts, I have decided to start wearing a robe, as one does at a resort property on land, with a proper spa and hammam. The response among my fellow cruisers has been ecstatic. “Look at you in the robe!” Mr. Rand cries out as we pass each other by the Thrill Island aqua park. “You’re living the cruise life! You know, you really drank me under the table that night.” I laugh as we part ways, but my soul cries out, Please spend more time with me, Mr. and Mrs. Rand; I so need the company .

In my white robe, I am a stately presence, a refugee from a better limited series, a one-man crossover episode. (Only Suites are granted these robes to begin with.) Today, I will try many of the activities these ships have on offer to provide their clientele with a sense of never-ceasing motion. Because I am already at Thrill Island, I decide to climb the staircase to what looks like a mast on an old-fashioned ship (terrified, because I am afraid of heights) to try a ride called “Storm Chasers,” which is part of the “Category 6” water park, named in honor of one of the storms that may someday do away with the Port of Miami entirely. Storm Chasers consists of falling from the “mast” down a long, twisting neon tube filled with water, like being the camera inside your own colonoscopy, as you hold on to the handles of a mat, hoping not to die. The tube then flops you down headfirst into a trough of water, a Royal Caribbean baptism. It both knocks my breath out and makes me sad.

In keeping with the aquatic theme, I attend a show at the AquaDome. To the sound of “Live and Let Die,” a man in a harness gyrates to and fro in the sultry air. I saw something very similar in the back rooms of the famed Berghain club in early-aughts Berlin. Soon another harnessed man is gyrating next to the first. Ja , I think to myself, I know how this ends. Now will come the fisting , natürlich . But the show soon devolves into the usual Marvel-film-grade nonsense, with too much light and sound signifying nichts . If any fisting is happening, it is probably in the Suite Neighborhood, inside a cabin marked with an upside-down pineapple, which I understand means a couple are ready to swing, and I will see none of it.

I go to the ice show, which is a kind of homage—if that’s possible—to the periodic table, done with the style and pomp and masterful precision that would please the likes of Kim Jong Un, if only he could afford Royal Caribbean talent. At one point, the dancers skate to the theme song of Succession . “See that!” I want to say to my fellow Suites—at “cultural” events, we have a special section reserved for us away from the commoners—“ Succession ! It’s even better than the zombie show! Open your minds!”

Finally, I visit a comedy revue in an enormous and too brightly lit version of an “intimate,” per Royal Caribbean literature, “Manhattan comedy club.” Many of the jokes are about the cruising life. “I’ve lived on ships for 20 years,” one of the middle-aged comedians says. “I can only see so many Filipino homosexuals dressed as a taco.” He pauses while the audience laughs. “I am so fired tonight,” he says. He segues into a Trump impression and then Biden falling asleep at the microphone, which gets the most laughs. “Anyone here from Fort Leonard Wood?” another comedian asks. Half the crowd seems to cheer. As I fall asleep that night, I realize another connection I have failed to make, and one that may explain some of the diversity on this vessel—many of its passengers have served in the military.

As a coddled passenger with a suite, I feel like I am starting to understand what it means to have a rank and be constantly reminded of it. There are many espresso makers , I think as I look across the expanse of my officer-grade quarters before closing my eyes, but this one is mine .

photo of sheltered sandy beach with palms, umbrellas, and chairs with two large docked cruise ships in background

A shocking sight greets me beyond the pools of Deck 17 as I saunter over to the Coastal Kitchen for my morning intake of slightly sour Americanos. A tiny city beneath a series of perfectly pressed green mountains. Land! We have docked for a brief respite in Basseterre, the capital of St. Kitts and Nevis. I wolf down my egg scramble to be one of the first passengers off the ship. Once past the gangway, I barely refrain from kissing the ground. I rush into the sights and sounds of this scruffy island city, sampling incredible conch curry and buckets of non-Starbucks coffee. How wonderful it is to be where God intended humans to be: on land. After all, I am neither a fish nor a mall rat. This is my natural environment. Basseterre may not be Havana, but there are signs of human ingenuity and desire everywhere you look. The Black Table Grill Has been Relocated to Soho Village, Market Street, Directly Behind of, Gary’s Fruits and Flower Shop. Signed. THE PORK MAN reads a sign stuck to a wall. Now, that is how you write a sign. A real sign, not the come-ons for overpriced Rolexes that blink across the screens of the Royal Promenade.

“Hey, tie your shoestring!” a pair of laughing ladies shout to me across the street.

“Thank you!” I shout back. Shoestring! “Thank you very much.”

A man in Independence Square Park comes by and asks if I want to play with his monkey. I haven’t heard that pickup line since the Penn Station of the 1980s. But then he pulls a real monkey out of a bag. The monkey is wearing a diaper and looks insane. Wonderful , I think, just wonderful! There is so much life here. I email my editor asking if I can remain on St. Kitts and allow the Icon to sail off into the horizon without me. I have even priced a flight home at less than $300, and I have enough material from the first four days on the cruise to write the entire story. “It would be funny …” my editor replies. “Now get on the boat.”

As I slink back to the ship after my brief jailbreak, the locals stand under umbrellas to gaze at and photograph the boat that towers over their small capital city. The limousines of the prime minister and his lackeys are parked beside the gangway. St. Kitts, I’ve been told, is one of the few islands that would allow a ship of this size to dock.

“We hear about all the waterslides,” a sweet young server in one of the cafés told me. “We wish we could go on the ship, but we have to work.”

“I want to stay on your island,” I replied. “I love it here.”

But she didn’t understand how I could possibly mean that.

“WASHY, WASHY, so you don’t get stinky, stinky!” kids are singing outside the AquaDome, while their adult minders look on in disapproval, perhaps worried that Mr. Washy Washy is grooming them into a life of gayness. I heard a southern couple skip the buffet entirely out of fear of Mr. Washy Washy.

Meanwhile, I have found a new watering hole for myself, the Swim & Tonic, the biggest swim-up bar on any cruise ship in the world. Drinking next to full-size, nearly naked Americans takes away one’s own self-consciousness. The men have curvaceous mom bodies. The women are equally un-shy about their sprawling physiques.

Today I’ve befriended a bald man with many children who tells me that all of the little trinkets that Royal Caribbean has left us in our staterooms and suites are worth a fortune on eBay. “Eighty dollars for the water bottle, 60 for the lanyard,” the man says. “This is a cult.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. There is, however, a clientele for whom this cruise makes perfect sense. For a large middle-class family (he works in “supply chains”), seven days in a lower-tier cabin—which starts at $1,800 a person—allow the parents to drop off their children in Surfside, where I imagine many young Filipina crew members will take care of them, while the parents are free to get drunk at a swim-up bar and maybe even get intimate in their cabin. Cruise ships have become, for a certain kind of hardworking family, a form of subsidized child care.

There is another man I would like to befriend at the Swim & Tonic, a tall, bald fellow who is perpetually inebriated and who wears a necklace studded with little rubber duckies in sunglasses, which, I am told, is a sort of secret handshake for cruise aficionados. Tomorrow, I will spend more time with him, but first the ship docks at St. Thomas, in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Charlotte Amalie, the capital, is more charming in name than in presence, but I still all but jump off the ship to score a juicy oxtail and plantains at the well-known Petite Pump Room, overlooking the harbor. From one of the highest points in the small city, the Icon of the Seas appears bigger than the surrounding hills.

I usually tan very evenly, but something about the discombobulation of life at sea makes me forget the regular application of sunscreen. As I walk down the streets of Charlotte Amalie in my fluorescent Icon of the Seas cap, an old Rastafarian stares me down. “Redneck,” he hisses.

“No,” I want to tell him, as I bring a hand up to my red neck, “that’s not who I am at all. On my island, Mannahatta, as Whitman would have it, I am an interesting person living within an engaging artistic milieu. I do not wish to use the Caribbean as a dumping ground for the cruise-ship industry. I love the work of Derek Walcott. You don’t understand. I am not a redneck. And if I am, they did this to me.” They meaning Royal Caribbean? Its passengers? The Rands?

“They did this to me!”

Back on the Icon, some older matrons are muttering about a run-in with passengers from the Celebrity cruise ship docked next to us, the Celebrity Apex. Although Celebrity Cruises is also owned by Royal Caribbean, I am made to understand that there is a deep fratricidal beef between passengers of the two lines. “We met a woman from the Apex,” one matron says, “and she says it was a small ship and there was nothing to do. Her face was as tight as a 19-year-old’s, she had so much surgery.” With those words, and beneath a cloudy sky, humidity shrouding our weathered faces and red necks, we set sail once again, hopefully in the direction of home.

photo from inside of spacious geodesic-style glass dome facing ocean, with stairwells and seating areas

THERE ARE BARELY 48 HOURS LEFT to the cruise, and the Icon of the Seas’ passengers are salty. They know how to work the elevators. They know the Washy Washy song by heart. They understand that the chicken gyro at “Feta Mediterranean,” in the AquaDome Market, is the least problematic form of chicken on the ship.

The passengers have shed their INAUGURAL CRUISE T-shirts and are now starting to evince political opinions. There are caps pledging to make America great again and T-shirts that celebrate words sometimes attributed to Patrick Henry: “The Constitution is not an instrument for the government to restrain the people; it is an instrument for the people to restrain the government.” With their preponderance of FAMILY FLAG FAITH FRIENDS FIREARMS T-shirts, the tables by the crepe station sometimes resemble the Capitol Rotunda on January 6. The Real Anthony Fauci , by Robert F. Kennedy Jr., appears to be a popular form of literature, especially among young men with very complicated versions of the American flag on their T-shirts. Other opinions blend the personal and the political. “Someone needs to kill Washy guy, right?” a well-dressed man in the elevator tells me, his gray eyes radiating nothing. “Just beat him to death. Am I right?” I overhear the male member of a young couple whisper, “There goes that freak” as I saunter by in my white spa robe, and I decide to retire it for the rest of the cruise.

I visit the Royal Bling to see up close the $100,000 golden chalice that entitles you to free drinks on Royal Caribbean forever. The pleasant Serbian saleslady explains that the chalice is actually gold-plated and covered in white zirconia instead of diamonds, as it would otherwise cost $1 million. “If you already have everything,” she explains, “this is one more thing you can get.”

I believe that anyone who works for Royal Caribbean should be entitled to immediate American citizenship. They already speak English better than most of the passengers and, per the Serbian lady’s sales pitch above, better understand what America is as well. Crew members like my Panamanian cabin attendant seem to work 24 hours a day. A waiter from New Delhi tells me that his contract is six months and three weeks long. After a cruise ends, he says, “in a few hours, we start again for the next cruise.” At the end of the half a year at sea, he is allowed a two-to-three-month stay at home with his family. As of 2019, the median income for crew members was somewhere in the vicinity of $20,000, according to a major business publication. Royal Caribbean would not share the current median salary for its crew members, but I am certain that it amounts to a fraction of the cost of a Royal Bling gold-plated, zirconia-studded chalice.

And because most of the Icon’s hyper-sanitized spaces are just a frittata away from being a Delta lounge, one forgets that there are actual sailors on this ship, charged with the herculean task of docking it in port. “Having driven 100,000-ton aircraft carriers throughout my career,” retired Admiral James G. Stavridis, the former NATO Supreme Allied Commander Europe, writes to me, “I’m not sure I would even know where to begin with trying to control a sea monster like this one nearly three times the size.” (I first met Stavridis while touring Army bases in Germany more than a decade ago.)

Today, I decide to head to the hot tub near Swim & Tonic, where some of the ship’s drunkest reprobates seem to gather (the other tubs are filled with families and couples). The talk here, like everywhere else on the ship, concerns football, a sport about which I know nothing. It is apparent that four teams have recently competed in some kind of finals for the year, and that two of them will now face off in the championship. Often when people on the Icon speak, I will try to repeat the last thing they said with a laugh or a nod of disbelief. “Yes, 20-yard line! Ha!” “Oh my God, of course, scrimmage.”

Soon we are joined in the hot tub by the late-middle-age drunk guy with the duck necklace. He is wearing a bucket hat with the legend HAWKEYES , which, I soon gather, is yet another football team. “All right, who turned me in?” Duck Necklace says as he plops into the tub beside us. “I get a call in the morning,” he says. “It’s security. Can you come down to the dining room by 10 a.m.? You need to stay away from the members of this religious family.” Apparently, the gregarious Duck Necklace had photobombed the wrong people. There are several families who present as evangelical Christians or practicing Muslims on the ship. One man, evidently, was not happy that Duck Necklace had made contact with his relatives. “It’s because of religious stuff; he was offended. I put my arm around 20 people a day.”

Everyone laughs. “They asked me three times if I needed medication,” he says of the security people who apparently interrogated him in full view of others having breakfast.

Another hot-tub denizen suggests that he should have asked for fentanyl. After a few more drinks, Duck Necklace begins to muse about what it would be like to fall off the ship. “I’m 62 and I’m ready to go,” he says. “I just don’t want a shark to eat me. I’m a huge God guy. I’m a Bible guy. There’s some Mayan theory squaring science stuff with religion. There is so much more to life on Earth.” We all nod into our Red Stripes.

“I never get off the ship when we dock,” he says. He tells us he lost $6,000 in the casino the other day. Later, I look him up, and it appears that on land, he’s a financial adviser in a crisp gray suit, probably a pillar of his North Chicago community.

photo of author smiling and holding soft-serve ice-cream cone with outdoor seating area in background

THE OCEAN IS TEEMING with fascinating life, but on the surface it has little to teach us. The waves come and go. The horizon remains ever far away.

I am constantly told by my fellow passengers that “everybody here has a story.” Yes, I want to reply, but everybody everywhere has a story. You, the reader of this essay, have a story, and yet you’re not inclined to jump on a cruise ship and, like Duck Necklace, tell your story to others at great pitch and volume. Maybe what they’re saying is that everybody on this ship wants to have a bigger, more coherent, more interesting story than the one they’ve been given. Maybe that’s why there’s so much signage on the doors around me attesting to marriages spent on the sea. Maybe that’s why the Royal Caribbean newsletter slipped under my door tells me that “this isn’t a vacation day spent—it’s bragging rights earned.” Maybe that’s why I’m so lonely.

Today is a big day for Icon passengers. Today the ship docks at Royal Caribbean’s own Bahamian island, the Perfect Day at CocoCay. (This appears to be the actual name of the island.) A comedian at the nightclub opined on what his perfect day at CocoCay would look like—receiving oral sex while learning that his ex-wife had been killed in a car crash (big laughter). But the reality of the island is far less humorous than that.

One of the ethnic tristate ladies in the infinity pool told me that she loved CocoCay because it had exactly the same things that could be found on the ship itself. This proves to be correct. It is like the Icon, but with sand. The same tired burgers, the same colorful tubes conveying children and water from Point A to B. The same swim-up bar at its Hideaway ($140 for admittance, no children allowed; Royal Caribbean must be printing money off its clientele). “There was almost a fight at The Wizard of Oz ,” I overhear an elderly woman tell her companion on a chaise lounge. Apparently one of the passengers began recording Royal Caribbean’s intellectual property and “three guys came after him.”

I walk down a pathway to the center of the island, where a sign reads DO NOT ENTER: YOU HAVE REACHED THE BOUNDARY OF ADVENTURE . I hear an animal scampering in the bushes. A Royal Caribbean worker in an enormous golf cart soon chases me down and takes me back to the Hideaway, where I run into Mrs. Rand in a bikini. She becomes livid telling me about an altercation she had the other day with a woman over a towel and a deck chair. We Suites have special towel privileges; we do not have to hand over our SeaPass Card to score a towel. But the Rands are not Suites. “People are so entitled here,” Mrs. Rand says. “It’s like the airport with all its classes.” “You see,” I want to say, “this is where your husband’s love of Ayn Rand runs into the cruelties and arbitrary indignities of unbridled capitalism.” Instead we make plans to meet for a final drink in the Schooner Bar tonight (the Rands will stand me up).

Back on the ship, I try to do laps, but the pool (the largest on any cruise ship, naturally) is fully trashed with the detritus of American life: candy wrappers, a slowly dissolving tortilla chip, napkins. I take an extra-long shower in my suite, then walk around the perimeter of the ship on a kind of exercise track, past all the alluring lifeboats in their yellow-and-white livery. Maybe there is a dystopian angle to the HBO series that I will surely end up pitching, one with shades of WALL-E or Snowpiercer . In a collapsed world, a Royal Caribbean–like cruise liner sails from port to port, collecting new shipmates and supplies in exchange for the precious energy it has on board. (The actual Icon features a new technology that converts passengers’ poop into enough energy to power the waterslides . In the series, this shitty technology would be greatly expanded.) A very young woman (18? 19?), smart and lonely, who has only known life on the ship, walks along the same track as I do now, contemplating jumping off into the surf left by its wake. I picture reusing Duck Necklace’s words in the opening shot of the pilot. The girl is walking around the track, her eyes on the horizon; maybe she’s highborn—a Suite—and we hear the voice-over: “I’m 19 and I’m ready to go. I just don’t want a shark to eat me.”

Before the cruise is finished, I talk to Mr. Washy Washy, or Nielbert of the Philippines. He is a sweet, gentle man, and I thank him for the earworm of a song he has given me and for keeping us safe from the dreaded norovirus. “This is very important to me, getting people to wash their hands,” he tells me in his burger getup. He has dreams, as an artist and a performer, but they are limited in scope. One day he wants to dress up as a piece of bacon for the morning shift.

THE MAIDEN VOYAGE OF THE TITANIC (the Icon of the Seas is five times as large as that doomed vessel) at least offered its passengers an exciting ending to their cruise, but when I wake up on the eighth day, all I see are the gray ghosts that populate Miami’s condo skyline. Throughout my voyage, my writer friends wrote in to commiserate with me. Sloane Crosley, who once covered a three-day spa mini-cruise for Vogue , tells me she felt “so very alone … I found it very untethering.” Gideon Lewis-Kraus writes in an Instagram comment: “When Gary is done I think it’s time this genre was taken out back and shot.” And he is right. To badly paraphrase Adorno: After this, no more cruise stories. It is unfair to put a thinking person on a cruise ship. Writers typically have difficult childhoods, and it is cruel to remind them of the inherent loneliness that drove them to writing in the first place. It is also unseemly to write about the kind of people who go on cruises. Our country does not provide the education and upbringing that allow its citizens an interior life. For the creative class to point fingers at the large, breasty gentlemen adrift in tortilla-chip-laden pools of water is to gather a sour harvest of low-hanging fruit.

A day or two before I got off the ship, I decided to make use of my balcony, which I had avoided because I thought the view would only depress me further. What I found shocked me. My suite did not look out on Central Park after all. This entire time, I had been living in the ship’s Disneyland, Surfside, the neighborhood full of screaming toddlers consuming milkshakes and candy. And as I leaned out over my balcony, I beheld a slight vista of the sea and surf that I thought I had been missing. It had been there all along. The sea was frothy and infinite and blue-green beneath the span of a seagull’s wing. And though it had been trod hard by the world’s largest cruise ship, it remained.

This article appears in the May 2024 print edition with the headline “A Meatball at Sea.” When you buy a book using a link on this page, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.

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