There are bad ideas, and then there’s the Seventh Annual Psychic Horizons Cruise Experience.
Five nights, four ports of call, and more aura readings than the Geneva Convention should legally allow.
When I booked my ticket — in the name of research, masochism, and poor impulse control — I was promised “enlightenment, empowerment, and ethereal entertainment.”
What I got was buffet food poisoning and an intense desire to jump overboard by Day Two.
The ship itself was an aging vessel that smelled faintly of mildew, freezer burn, and lost lawsuits.
Our spiritual adventure kicked off in the “Celestial Ballroom,” where a cracked PA system blasted pan flute covers of Fleetwood Mac while the ship’s “resident intuitives” paraded across the stage in flowing robes and suspiciously comfortable footwear.
First on the agenda: “Connecting with Your Starseed Heritage.” Attendees were divided into small groups based on which alien race their soul allegedly originated from. Options included Pleiadeans, Arcturians, Lyrans, and something called the Blue Avian Collective, which — if you were wondering — is apparently just interdimensional birds who care deeply about human ascension and also, presumably, breadcrumbs.
I sat through a two-hour seminar called “Manifesting Abundance Through Quantum Gratitude,” led by a woman named Lady Persephone (real name: Susan). It involved a lot of energetic clapping, chanting about “magnetizing prosperity,” and being strongly encouraged to buy her $249 “prosperity crystal grid” at the end.
Between workshops, the ship offered aura photography sessions on Deck 5, past-life regression circles by the miniature golf course, and emergency Reiki “energy clearing” stations set up outside the casino.
I witnessed one poor soul get dragged from a losing slot machine by two frantic empaths determined to “unstick his money energy.” He looked like he mostly wanted his drink back.
Meals were an adventure in themselves. The psychic cruise buffet was a battlefield of wilted kale, aggressively vegan lasagna, and color-coded juices designed to “balance your chakras.” The green one tasted like regret.
The purple one tasted like liquefied despair.
On the third night, they held a mass meditation on the Lido Deck, asking us to “send healing energy into the ocean to bless the dolphins.” I sent a silent prayer that the dolphins had the sense to swim far, far away.
If you go, bring sea-sickness pills, a fake name, and a strong personal commitment to keeping your wallet in your pocket.
And if enlightenment can be found aboard a budget cruise ship somewhere between Fort Lauderdale and a Bahamian tax shelter, then I’ll eat my own aura.