In December, 2024, there came seven nights and six days spent crossing the Atlantic Ocean the old-fashioned way—on an ocean liner. Instead of hopping “The Pond” in a few hours by air, our ship, the Queen Mary 2, glided steadily to our destination, churning her way through the water in a passage which evoked the size and scope of our earth in a beautifully tangible way.

Some have wondered: what does one do with all that “empty” time? “Empty”? That isn’t the word I’d choose for it at all. To me, seven nights and six days of unstructured, uncommitted time is anything but empty! If I were to choose to regard it as empty, that would be my loss. To me, it spelled opportunity, a delicious circumstance that invited out-of-the-ordinary decisions about how to spend my minutes and hours.

It was divine.

For starters, I elected not to purchase the internet plan, a deliberate choice. I was seeking to know what it would be like not to be persistently tethered to the outside world. It was the freedom to stop reaching for my phone with every pause in the rhythm of the day to see what (if anything) I might have missed. It was liberation from the onslaught of emails with their own agendas. It was independence from texts about things over which I had no control, out there in the middle of all that water. It was a chance to ponder how I wanted to do whatever bubbled up next. Unplugged, I call it.

From my journal: “This is so magical...”

It’s not that there wasn’t plenty to do! One could fill the day to the gills with programs and activities and entertainment. Each evening, the “Daily Programme” was delivered to our cabin. We pored over the possibilities. There was no way to do everything—and I was mindful that I did not need or want non-stop distraction.

I loved following my whims as they arose. Always eager to find hidden nooks and crannies, I investigated the ship top to bottom. On my own, I made great discoveries, such as the special scenic elevator and the observation room behind the bridge where it was possible to watch the crew at work. It was easy to be mesmerized by simply staring out the window in any number of places, high and low—and then seek out a different vantage point, just for fun.

There was plenty of time for a morning beverage or afternoon glass of port wine on our comfortable balcony. To read, or write, or just contemplate things while watching the ocean through the windows of the world’s largest floating library on the Level 8 bow. To find fresh air (weather permitting) on the lookouts on Level 11 and the topmost deck, or on Level 7 where it was possible to circumnavigate the ship out of doors. There were excellent lectures on various topics, and ample opportunities to join all sorts of activities or gatherings. There were the spa, the health & fitness center, the art gallery, the shops—even a casino. No, the days (and nights) were anything but “empty.”

And the meals! At the entryway, the maitre’d would ask our preference: sit alone? or with others? Open table seating was a chance to meet cool people, such as the couple moving from Mexico to Paris in their career of animal sitting, and the down-to-earth couple from Nantucket who were descended from that famous island’s original settlers. At the first dinner, my travel companion and I were fortunate to sit with two fun women, one of them the ship’s literary lecturer. We hit it off so well that we reserved a table together for all the remaining dinners. The food? Delicious, and well-proportioned. The service? Five-star all the way. And of course, there was proper English tea at 3:30pm daily in the Queen’s Room, complete with an impressive entry parade by the servers.

Entertainment was non-stop. At various times of day and locations, musicians offered everything from classical piano, harp, folk, jazz, guitar, and more. Our dining group went together to the evening entertainment in the Royal Court Theatre. After that was the ballroom dancing in the Queen’s Room (most evenings), avidly pursued by couples of all ages. I read about the late-night disco at the G32 Lounge...but preferred my cozy bed to that scene.

From my journal: “I have continued to meet really nice people, overall, on this trip, and you have good conversations, and then never see them again! It’s an interesting sociological thing, this sense of camaraderie that just doesn’t happen elsewhere. We are truly all in this together.” Perhaps this was especially so because no one was having diverse off-ship experiences, as happens with ports-of-call cruises.

Every day at noon, a Nautical Update from the bridge marked our steady progress. It included information about the weather and more—such as when to set our watches ahead on five of the days. What a nice bonus, to arrive in England with minimal jetlag. We also heard fun facts, such as the origins of phrases like “put a sock in it,” “bite the bullet” and “show a leg,” as well as when, around 10:30pm on Day Two, we would pass 100 nautical miles north of where Titanic rests on the seafloor.

The trans-Atlantic passage met my every expectation: it was fun, and fulfilling, and anything but “empty.”