Written by Lauren Heavner

Behind the Glamour: Life Working on a Cruise Ship

I’m just here to sing and travel…

As a headline entertainer, I’m often the face of the ship—a role that comes with it’s share of perks and quirks. Guests love to chat, share a drink, or linger over dinner, soaking in a little of that spotlight magic. But there’s a darker side to the attention. The odd inappropriate comment from men is, unfortunately, part of the job. Over time, I’ve mastered the art of the quick counter—firm, humorous, respectful, but enough to remind them that it’s unwanted.

The real trick is navigating the daily barrage of inappropriate comments and unwanted advances from your fellow crew and superiors. It’s a stacked deck. The environment itself? Toxic in that perfectly polished way—smiles on the surface, rot underneath. The kind of place where misconduct isn’t just ignored, it’s practically baked into the culture.

Medical Facilities Onboard…

Over the years, I’ve seen my share of medical emergencies on cruise ships—too many falls ending in broken bones, a couple of heart attacks that claimed lives, and norovirus outbreaks that spread faster than gossip at the crew bar. I even had my own brush with disaster once. (If you’re out there Doc, I owe you a drink—or ten.) But nothing compares to the chaos of COVID-19. Being a crew member on a cruise ship during that time was like living a nightmare with no shore in sight. Isolation, fear, and uncertainty hung in the air as heavy as the ocean fog. It wasn’t just terrifying—it was the kind of terrible that leaves a mark, the kind you carry with you long after the seas have calmed. This topic calls for an entire blog. Medical emergencies onboard aren’t exactly an everyday occurrence, but they’re not rare either.

Certain cruises—or, more accurately, certain lines—tend to see more than their share, based on the demographics of their passengers. On a cruise ship, the size of the medical facility is a game of numbers—guest numbers, to be exact. For a behemoth carrying 4,000 guests, you’ll typically find two doctors and a small battalion of six or seven nurses, ready to handle everything from seasickness to something more sinister. But on the smaller, more intimate vessels—say, those hosting under 1,000 guests—you’re looking at a leaner operation: one doctor, a couple of nurses, and the hope that everyone’s sunscreen game is strong.

Dating on the cruise ship…

Fraternizing with passengers is strictly forbidden for crew members—a rule that comes with one of the harshest consequences: immediate termination. But rules, as we all know, are only as strong as the people following them. And let’s just say, not everyone on the ship is a fan of playing by the book. Relationships among crew members are as common as sunsets at sea—a natural byproduct of close quarters and long contracts. But beneath the surface lies a messier truth.

The real question isn’t whether they’re in a relationship; it’s whether their spouses back home know. Sure, there are genuine, monogamous relationship on ships, built on something real. But let’s not kid ourselves—those are the exceptions, not the rule. Crew members are free to date each other—it’s practically inevitable in the close-knit world of ship life. But there’s one hard-and-fast caveat: no relationships between a supervisor and their subordinates.

me performing

me boarding a ship during the pandemic

me in the medical center

Lauren Heavner