Discount air adventure cruise travel

Lazy days at sea. Lounging poolside, a cold drink in one hand, a hot read in the other. Deep-blue Caribbean waters all around. Prices dropping like a rusty anchor. Is your soul stirring yet?

If so, you could wind up among the 4.6 million people expected to take a cruise this year--three times as many as in 1980. And the cruise lines want more. They are adding 30 or so new ships by the end of the decade, like the largest vessel yet, the 100,000-ton Carnival Destiny, which made its debut last month. To fill the vessels, first timers must be molded into repeaters.

That means fabulous bargains. Even heading into Caribbean peak season later this month, you can find deals as low as $549 a person for seven-day cruises. Discounts of up to 75 percent off the official "brochure rate" are not unheard of in this hypercompetitive environment. But what do you get on a mass-market cruise? To find out, I took two voyages, with my employer paying all expenses. A short hop to Nassau on a Carnival megaliner represented the economy end of the spectrum. A weeklong cruise through the western Caribbean on a smaller, more traditional Holland America ship was more upscale.

CRUISE NO. 1: HYPER

Las Vegas meets Mall of America, with overtones of spring break. A supercharged party atmosphere, enhanced by miles of garish neon lighting, engulfed me as soon as I stepped aboard to find roving waiters stuffing tropical drinks into everyone's hands (for a price--$6 for the high-octane "Funship Special"). Nothing prepares you for the sensory assault, not even the wry, insightful Fielding's Worldwide Cruises 1997 by Shirley Slater and Harry Basch ($19.95).

The brochure rate for my three-day early-November cruise from Miami to Nassau and back on Carnival's 2,000-passenger, 70,000-ton Ecstasy, based on double occupancy in a lower-deck cabin, was $789 per person. But the going rate was $199. The Cruise Line, a Miami-based discount-cruise-only travel agency (800-777-0707), was even able to knock off an additional $26.50. I did have to pay 50 percent more to go as a single, and $84.50 in port charges and fees brought the fare to $356.50.

The Sail & Sign card issued to all passengers was good for charging suntan lotion, a half-day excursion to the Blue Lagoon in the Bahamas ($26) and drinks other than the free iced tea or coffee (at $3, Jamaican Red Stripe beer was cheaper than Evian). All shipboard purchases, in other words, and all settled before leaving the ship. Cash was legal tender only in the huge and constantly populated Crystal Palace Casino, with 226 slot machines alone. My final bill, including tips but not airfare--or an unlucky turn at the blackjack tables--was $525, or $175 per day.

Gambling and hard drinking seemed to be the major diversions, both activities rarely pursued within sight of the waves. I had the sense more than once that I was inside a high-rise hotel rather than on board a cruise ship.

No one seemed to mind. Twenty-something muscle-shirted guys and Spandexed women along with couples in their 30s and 40s, a fair number with kids in tow, outnumbered older couples. Around the pool on the Lido deck, oiled, beverage-consuming bodies lined up cheek to cheek to take in the men's hairy-chest contest, which blindfolded women judged by feel. It was one of the few activities that mixed drinking and an ocean view.

Nonstop chomping. The food was plentiful, of course. Nine meals a day included afternoon tea, a midnight buffet and a minibreakfast buffet at 1:30 a.m. for diehard disco-hounds with the munchies. Dinner entrees were on the small side; my tablemates happily ordered two.

A high point was docking in Nassau for 24 hours, a refreshingly lengthy stay as cruises go. Nassau can be a tourist trap. The cruise director handed out a detailed map of not-to-be-missed stores, all of which pay to be listed. But having the ship available as a base of operation let me go to the beach and shopping, return for dinner, go out for casino action and dance to a calypso band until the wee hours. The organized shore excursion to Blue Lagoon was too organized. We were herded to "secluded" beaches about as secluded as the Jersey shore over the Fourth of July. The canned music and crammed-together hammocks contributed to the contrived, touristy feel.

Overall reaction? I loved the pampering. Where else at this price can you get free room service at any hour and a steward who changes your towels twice a day? But the roofed-over, sprawling, climate-controlled environment was too evocative of the food court at a megamall. If I'm at sea, I want to know I'm at sea without having to go to the top deck.

CRUISE NO. 2: STORMY

I knew where I was on my second voyage, all right: on a very big boat trying to ride out 20-foot swells in 50-mph winds. My mid-November cruise on Holland America's Noordam from Tampa to Key West, Mexico, Jamaica and Grand Cayman was marred by a storm system that locked the entire Caribbean in a violent six-day embrace.

My deluxe outside cabin on an upper deck cost $935 per person, double occupancy, less than half the $2,012 brochure price. Again, I had to pay a 50 percent premium as a single, so the base price was $1,403. But the grand total was $1,818, or $260 per day, after port taxes ($120), a tour of the Mayan ruins at Tulum ($65), meals in Key West and Grand Cayman ($40), a massage ($70), beverages ($60) and tips ($60).

Bad weather is far worse on a cruise than on land. All fresh-air activities on the lovely, wide teak decks, from swimming to volleyball, were off-limits because of the wind. Working out in the fitness center was almost impossible when standing upright was a challenge. I began to sag with fatigue and headaches. Seasickness was the order of the day, with racks of plastic-lined white bags hung strategically near the elevators, at the entrance to the dining room and in just about every other public area.

The Noordam itself was an antidote to the all-out pace of my first trip. The ship is half the Ecstasy's size, with elegant but cozy lounges, antiques and a million-dollar collection of art, including model ships carved from ivory. The passengers were older and less uninhibited. And most were with a mate, not looking for one.

The crew did its spirited best to cope. The food was bland, perhaps just as well considering the state of our stomachs. Since I wasn't as incapacitated as many of my shipmates were, one of my favorite spots was the Crow's Nest, a lounge at the forwardmost top of the ship, with tall, skinny windows more than halfway around. I couldn't take it for long periods, but the bartenders were loquacious and the waves would crash against the windows nine decks up as the ship shuddered in protest.

We couldn't make Jamaica and bobbed at sea for an extra day instead. That was understandable. What was not was the line's token gesture of a $22 credit for our unused port taxes and a glass of champagne with dinner. Weather is weather, and each cruise contract has an acts-of-God exclusion. But a discount on a future cruise would have disposed passengers far more kindly toward Holland America. Ann Bollesen, the line's spokesperson, expressed apologies on my return from the high seas but stood firm. "It would have cost a fortune to compensate every passenger on every ship out there," she said.

Different policy. Other lines, such as Princess, are more willing to open their pockets after prolonged bad weather. Carnival is known for letting the liquor flow gratis. Even some Caribbean resorts feel that bad weather sours the good times they feel obligated to provide. "If guests tell us they didn't enjoy their stay, no matter what the cause, we'll invite them back on us," says Atef Mankarios, president of Rosewood Hotels, manager of posh Little Dix Bay and Caneel Bay in the Virgin Islands.

Cruise passengers who feel that any situation has been mishandled, from bad weather to surly service, should speak up. Upon returning, send off a letter to the cruise line, preferably signed by your travel agent as well. Don't write an emotional screed. State how you feel the line should compensate you. Demanding a full refund because you returned home without a suntan will fall on unsympathetic ears; suggesting a percentage refund equal to the time ruined, say, 15 percent for the missed day in Jamaica, is fair, but still not a sure thing. Most cruise lines say they will decide what is appropriate case by case but often opt for future discounts. In my situation, Bollesen's answer was simple: "When it's something we can't control, we can't provide compensation."