It had been a while since I’d been at the airport. And by “a while,” I mean late June.
Clearly, I had been home far too long.
This time, the plan was one day and night in New York City, followed by a seven-day cruise aboard the Norwegian Escape. A little city chaos, a lot of ocean, a couple of stops in Canada, and two new states toward my goal of visiting all 50 before I turn 50. Somewhere in there, I would presumably sleep.
But first, the customary airport beverage photo. It wasn’t my most glamorous beer photo, but this is Maybe A Weekend, not a beverage advertising agency. The drink was cold, the photo existed, and the adventure could officially begin.
After working a full day, I boarded an overnight flight to the East Coast under the wildly optimistic assumption that I would “just sleep on the plane.”
Narrator: He did not.
I managed maybe one hour of sleep on a four-and-a-half-hour flight. Apparently, sitting upright in a flying tube with strangers isn’t quite the restful experience my booking-day brain had promised.
Still, why waste a vacation day when you can simply sacrifice your entire nervous system instead?
New York on One Hour of Sleep
By Friday morning, I had landed, taken the subway to my hotel, dropped off my bag, and started wandering around Times Square.
The weekend had officially begun, and somehow I was standing in one of the loudest, brightest places imaginable. Because after a full workday and a red-eye across the country, my brain apparently decided that what I needed most was aggressive amounts of stimulation.
There’s something about arriving somewhere different that briefly convinces you exhaustion is somebody else’s problem. Arizona was behind me, New York was all around me, and I was determined to enjoy my short stay—even if my internal operating system was flashing several warning lights.
By some miracle, the hotel gave me an early check-in at noon. That meant a shower, a nap, and a temporary resurrection. Three essential components of pretending I’m good at this.
Once I had regained enough consciousness to pass for a functioning adult, I headed back out. First order of business: a cocktail. Second: something to eat. Third: see how long I could keep this whole “functioning adult” thing going.
Korean short rib sliders made a strong opening argument, but they weren’t quite enough. And when you’re in New York, a slice of pizza feels less like a choice and more like an obligation.
The slice was $3.
Not $8. Three dollars.
If you know, you know.
At that point, my evening was becoming less about exploring New York and more about finding out how many different foods I could justify before bedtime. Honestly, there are worse ways to spend one night in the city.
New York was a brief stop, but it did its job: a little wandering, a little eating, and a reminder that I was officially somewhere other than home. Eventually, I made it back to the hotel for some actual sleep before the next part of the adventure.
Trading Times Square for the Ocean
On Saturday, I boarded the Norwegian Escape for the week. New York had been the warm-up. Now it was time to unpack, settle in, and find out how much fun I could fit into seven days before society expected me to be responsible again.
This trip also marked a first for me: returning to a cruise ship I’d sailed on before. My previous time aboard the Norwegian Escape was in January 2020, the adventure behind Out to Sea 2. Now here I was, back on the same ship for a different itinerary. Apparently, my idea of trying something new occasionally involves returning to a very large boat I already know I like.
One of my favorite things about cruising is that the trip doesn’t have to be one continuous sprint. There are ports to explore, but there’s also room to sit with the ocean, have a drink, wander the ship, or disappear into a little solo time. I can be curious and lazy on the same vacation. That’s an arrangement I fully support.
Our sea day gave me a chance to ease into ship life, although I may or may not have stayed up most of the night in the casino. Frankly, that’s nobody’s business.
Outside, the clouds were thick, the wind was strong, and it was surprisingly cold. The photos looked like a cruise vacation; taking them felt like Mother Nature was reminding me we were headed north.
I also took the occasional selfie with the sea behind me, just to prove the account wasn’t entirely AI-generated travel propaganda. Mostly, though, I kept the camera pointed at the ocean. It’s considerably more cooperative, and nobody has ever asked it to smile naturally.
Halifax: The Knees Have Been Notified
Our first Canadian stop was Halifax, Nova Scotia. I’d been to Canada before, but this was my first visit to Nova Scotia, and I decided to explore on foot.
Over 14,000 steps and more than six miles later, I had certainly committed to that decision.
That’s probably about 37 kilometers or something. I’m aware that’s wrong, but Canada uses the metric system and I was on vacation. I hadn’t traveled all that way to complete a math assignment.
The weather was beautiful—around 73°F—and made spending the day outside easy. It was exactly the kind of day that encourages you to keep walking a little farther, until your knees remind you they weren’t consulted during the planning process.
I wanted to see as much as I could, and the time went quickly. Unfortunately, I didn’t leave myself time to eat or drink in Halifax, which is a fairly serious oversight for someone whose travel philosophy includes trying the local food.
A lovely first visit to Nova Scotia, a substantial contribution to my step count, and a clear assignment for the next port: feed Garrick.
Saint John: Cameras, Coastlines, and Lobster Mac
Next was Saint John, New Brunswick, where I went on a coastal photography excursion led by an actual photographer. That was a nice change from my usual method of wandering around, pointing my camera at things, and hoping for the best.
Photography has been part of my life for years, and getting to spend a port day focused on it was a highlight. There’s something satisfying about having time to look around and pay attention to what might make a photo, rather than just rushing to the next stop.
It also helped that this excursion didn’t require another 14,000-step inspection of my remaining knee warranty.
Naturally, I took an unreasonable number of photos. Somewhere back home, my future self would be responsible for sorting them. Vacation me considered that an excellent delegation strategy.
We had more time in Saint John than in Halifax, so after the excursion I wandered into town to explore and correct the previous day’s food situation. I ended up at Britt’s Pub & Eatery Uptown, where I ordered the Lobster Mac & Cheese and a Cracked Canoe from Moosehead Breweries.
That Lobster Mac & Cheese was incredible. There was far more lobster in it than I expected. No sad little ceremonial pieces hiding under the cheese—they had committed to the assignment.
I’m still not a food blogger, and my food photography remains questionable. Hunger tends to override composition, lighting, and basic artistic standards. But I can confidently report that this was a very good decision.
Coastal photography, some independent exploring, and an excellent meal. Saint John treated me well.
Boston: A Vacation from the Vacation
Back in the United States, our next stop was Boston.
“But Garrick, haven’t you already been to Boston?”
Yes. Which is precisely why it became my vacation-from-my-vacation day.
With only one sea day on this cruise, a familiar port gave me the perfect opportunity to slow down. I slept in, had a late lunch, and enjoyed the ship without feeling compelled to squeeze another full day of sightseeing into the itinerary.
Then I somehow ended up getting a hot stone massage.
I’m normally not much of a massage person, but the casino hosts kept offering me things, and eventually they found something that caught my attention: a little relaxation that didn’t require me to organize anything.
Sometimes the adventure is walking miles through a new city. Sometimes it’s letting someone put hot rocks on your back while you reconsider how much effort you want to put into the rest of the afternoon.
Both are valid vacation activities. My knees were especially supportive of the second option.
Maine: Another State off the List
Our stop in Portland meant I could officially add Maine to my quest to visit all 50 states before turning 50.
That deadline suddenly feels closer than it used to. My back hurt a little just thinking about it.
I took an excursion to Kennebunkport, which meant I didn’t have much time to explore Portland itself. That’s one of the trade-offs of cruising: you get a taste of a place, but you also have to make choices about how to spend the hours available. This time, Kennebunkport got most of mine.
Still, I enjoyed the visit and had another state to mark on the map when I got home.
As for the exact number of states visited at that point, the map was handling the accounting. I was handling vacation. We all have our responsibilities.
Between destinations, I also got some of the foggy ocean scenery I enjoy. Hearing the ship’s horn sound through the fog while the view fades into gray is oddly peaceful, despite the obvious horror-movie implications.
Very cinematic. Very mysterious. Very “hopefully somebody on the bridge has considerably more information than I do.”
Of course, too many atmospheric travel photos might accidentally make me seem mysterious and attractive, so another selfie was necessary to keep expectations reasonable.
Current DM status: extremely manageable. Crisis averted.
Newport: Coastline, a Mansion, and One More Lobster Decision
Our final port was Newport, Rhode Island, which meant another new state added to the list.
I took an excursion along the Cliff Walk before touring The Breakers, the famously understated Vanderbilt mansion. And by understated, I mean the kind of place that makes you look at your own home and wonder why you don’t have an enormous palace overlooking the Atlantic.
Clearly, I should have allocated less money to airfare and more to decorative ceilings.
The coastline and the mansion made for an enjoyable combination: time outside, a little history, and plenty to point the camera at. It was a good way to finish the port portion of the trip, with Rhode Island joining Maine as another step toward that 50-state goal.
After the excursion, I had time to wander around Newport on my own and address an important New England requirement: a lobster roll.
Naturally, a tasty beverage needed to accompany it.
A delicious lobster roll, a cold drink, and some time exploring without a schedule to follow for a little while. My decision-making skills were looking unusually strong.
Still not a food blogger. Still very committed to eating like one.
Back to Reality, with Coffee
And just like that, the week aboard the Norwegian Escape was over.
I’d explored new places in Canada, added Maine and Rhode Island to my map, taken an irresponsible number of photos, and found a reasonable balance between sightseeing and doing absolutely nothing. I’d also eaten extremely well and spent a week drinking like a pirate with a beverage package.
Then came the glamorous journey home.
After getting off the ship in New York, I made my way across the city by foot, subway, bus, and AirTrain to reach the airport. Nothing brings you back to reality quite like moving yourself and your luggage through several forms of transportation after a week of having your floating hotel take you places.
This time, I skipped the customary airport beer and raised a slightly shaky cup of coffee instead. It was time to return to normal life, where I’m a responsible adult who generally has a drink or two on the weekend and occasionally thinks about vegetables.
My suitcase, unfortunately, was also ready for a major life change. After seven years of airports, cruise terminals, questionable baggage handling, and my enthusiastic approach to overpacking, a ripped seam sent it into retirement.
It had served admirably. Apparently, this trip was its final notice.
I came home with new places to remember, photos to sort, a suitcase to replace, and plenty of material to make it look like I was still traveling while sitting at home in Arizona.
One day and night in New York, seven days on the Norwegian Escape, and another reminder of why I keep making time for these trips. I enjoy the big sights, but I also enjoy the smaller moments: a $3 slice, a foggy view, a good meal, or an afternoon when the only thing on the schedule is relaxing.
Will I learn my lesson about working all day before taking a red-eye?
Probably not.
But I will miss that suitcase.
