48 hours after disembarking Virgin Voyages’ Brilliant Lady, I found myself right back where I started – PortMiami. Clearly, I didn’t get enough time at sea because I’m trading in edgy entertainment and drag shows at sea for something a little more refined… or at least that’s what Cunard would like us to believe.
This time around I’m boarding Queen Elizabeth – yes, that Queen Elizabeth. But before you ask, no, it’s not the same one your grandparents crossed the Atlantic on, and no, she’s not the one docked permanently in Dubai as a floating hotel, that’s the QE2 which this Queen replaced. Cunard’s had a few ships named Queen Elizabeth over the years, and this one is the modern-day version that entered service back in 2010. She’s elegant and unmistakably British, but make no mistake – under all that polished wood and art deco decor, she’s a Carnival Corporation ship through and through.
If you’ve ever cruised with Holland America, Costa, or P&O, you’ve basically seen this ship before. Queen Elizabeth belongs to Carnival Corporation’s “Vista-class” family – not to be confused with Carnival Cruise Line’s Vista-class, which is an entirely different design. Carnival created this class as a way to “cut and paste” – cut costs on new builds, paste the design over and over again for multiple brands, and get their money’s worth out of a single design with slight modifications as each ship was built. (Corporate shipbuilding at it’s finest.) The first of these ships debuted back in 2002 with Holland America’s Zuiderdam — ironically, the next ship I’ll be boarding once this cruise wraps up. The final ship in the class was launched in 2024, Cunard’s newest ship, Queen Anne.
Cunard’s Queen Elizabeth weighs in at about 93,000 gross tons, stretches just shy of 965 feet, and carries a little over 2,000 passengers. She’s manned by a crew of roughly 900 who make sure everything from afternoon tea to ballroom dancing goes off without a hitch. And while she may not be a massive, resort-style floating city like the mega ships sailing out of Miami these days, she’s big enough to feel substantial but small enough to still have that classic “liner” charm. By the way, this is not a ship for kids, as they would be bored out of their minds due to the lack of things such as splashpads, water slides, etc.
Cunard carries a whole lot of history – and a fair amount of pride. Founded way back in 1840, they were the original pioneers of luxury sea travel, long before ships had roller coasters or robot bartenders. Over the decades, Cunard has operated some of the most famous ships in history – Lusitania, Mauretania, Aquitania, Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, QE2, and of course, the current Queen Mary 2. Some of their ships have made headlines for tragic reasons (looking at you, Lusitania), others for their sheer glamour, celebrity passengers, and all of them have carried the Cunard name with a sense pride.
Even today, sailing with Cunard feels a bit like stepping back in time – in a good way. There’s afternoon tea served by white-gloved waiters, a dress code that still means something, and a level of formality that’s completely foreign to most modern cruise lines. It’s less “poolside DJ” and more “ballroom dancing in the Queen’s Room after dinner.”
So here I am, ready to spend the next nine days seeing what life is like aboard this British beauty. I’ve always admired Cunard for keeping that classic ocean liner spirit alive, even if Queen Elizabeth isn’t an ocean liner like her big sister, Queen Mary 2 which I have sailed on several times in the past. This, however, is my first time sailing on Queen Elizabeth which is here in Miami for her very first Caribbean season. It’s a limited time engagement as she’s only here for a few months, before heading to Alaska. She’ll return again next winter for one more season from Florida and will not return.
Something tells me this voyage is going to be very different, so let’s get right into it.
Heading to PortMiami
Since Queen Elizabeth was sailing out of PortMiami, I did what I normall do, and skipped the stress of I-95 by hopping on the noon Brightline train from Boca Raton. For anyone who hasn’t tried Brightline yet, it’s the only way to travel between South Florida cities without losing your sanity. The train pulled into Miami about eight minutes early, and since it was a Tuesday, the usually chaotic Miami Central Station was eerily calm – no lines, no crowds, just smooth sailing… or, I guess, rolling.
Getting to the port from there couldn’t have been quicker. I fired up the Uber app, and two minutes later my ride pulled up. Ten minutes after that, I was standing outside Terminal D – the same one Carnival Cruise Line uses. Security was a complete tease. I walked right through without waiting in any kind of line, which made me think embarkation was going to be a quick process. That optimism lasted about thirty seconds, because once I reached the check-in area, it looked like all 2,000 of my fellow passengers decided to arrive at the exact same time.
What followed was 45 minutes of standing in line while slowly inching forward through a maze of retractable stanchions. When I finally reached a check-in rep, it was a quick process.
Once onboard, I half expected to see rows of Cunard’s famous bellboys lined up like something straight out of an old travel poster – red jackets, black pants, and those little bell caps perfectly placed on their heads. You know, that iconic “Welcome Aboard” kind of moment that makes you feel like you’re stepping back into the golden age of ocean travel. But no. That tradition, much like the midnight buffet, appears to have sailed into history. There were only a handful of those uniformed bellboys around, and they were clearly stationed there for one purpose – the paid photo op.
So much for old-world charm.
Instead, boarding went something like this: you’re immediately funneled toward your muster station to check in. No fanfare, no offer of a welcome glass of champage, just straight to business. The process itself is…. they scan your boarding pass, nod, and that’s it. No instructions, no “what to do in an emergency,” no “where to go if the ship starts leaning a little too far to one side.” You’re just cleared and sent on your way.
To complete the safety drill, you’re then expected to watch a video on the TV in your stateroom, which – let’s be honest —-about half the passengers probably never do. I still say, in the unlikely event another Costa Concordia-type situation happens and people need to abandon ship, it’s going to be absolute chaos. Every cruise line has done away with those in-person muster drills where you actually learned something, and now they just hope everyone’s paying attention from the comfort of their stateroom with a glass of prosecco in hand. Spoiler: they’re not.
With the formalities out of the way, I decided to wander a bit before heading to my stateroom. This was the perfect time to snap some photos while the public spaces were still quiet. My first impression? This ship is stunning. Elegant wood tones, rich carpeting, and that timeless art deco design that Cunard is known for – it’s like stepping back in time. You can tell Queen Elizabeth was built with a sense of class that’s hard to find these days. No flashy LED walls or bumper cars here just elegance.
Stateroom 2018 – Solo Oceanview
For this voyage, I booked one of Queen Elizabeth’s single oceanview staterooms – number 2018 on Deck 2. These nine solo cabins were added to the ship during a 2014 refit, tucked into space that once belonged to the casino. Somewhere, a row of slot machines gave up their spot so solo cruisers like me could have a cabin that doesn’t come with a ridiculous 200 percent single supplement. Honestly, that surcharge is the biggest rip-off in cruising.
Finding the room, though, was an adventure in itself. The entrance to these solo cabins is hidden behind a door that looks more like a “Crew Only” passage than passenger accommodations. After wandering the hallway a few times like I was looking for a speakeasy, I finally had to flag down a crew member for directions. When I did find the door, my keycard was waiting in an envelope. I held it to the reader – red light. Tried again. Red light. One more time for good measure – still red. So off I went to the Purser’s Desk (which Cunard still calls by its old-school name) where I waited about 15 minutes to get a replacement. The second card worked, but surprise! My stateroom turned out to be an accessible room – a fact that there’s no mention of that anywhere on Cunard’s official deck plan or even on their accessible deck plan.
The cabin itself is compact, with a single twin bed, a desk/vanity, a small table and chair, and a fridge stocked with water, soda, wine, and beer. Closet space is minimal – barely enough for one formal outfit, let alone two. And this is Cunard, where formal nights are still sacred with usually at least two per sailing. The hangers are the unstealable kind, too, which somehow makes the situation worse. Decor-wise, imagine your grandmother’s guest bedroom: dated gold-and-cream fabrics and a design that screams “vintage,” just not in the intentional way.
The room’s saving grace is the window – a massive one that nearly takes up the entire wall. It’s a reminder that this space used to belong to the casino, which probably explains why the view is excellent and the soundproofing… not so much. On one side of the cabin is a busy crew area, so there’s a steady rhythm of doors opening, closing, and muffled conversations. Above, the promenade deck ensures you’ll wake up to the slogging of early-morning joggers. They politely ask passengers not to run before 8 a.m., but that doesn’t mean everyone listens.
Oh, and did I mention there is a piece of carpet missing next to the bed were the nightstand is?
Now let’s talk about the bathroom. Since it’s accessible, there are no thresholds — just one big wet room with a drain. It has all the accessibility features you’d expect: handrails, a fold-down shower chair, and emergency pull cords everywhere. The water pressure, though? Dismal. Picture an old man with prostate issues trying to water the garden — that’s about the level of flow you’re dealing with. After the “we don’t care about water conservation” special edition rainshower head on Brilliant Lady, this one felt more like showering in a light mist at best.
Power options in the room are equally outdated. There isn’t a single USB port – none, zero, nada. I’ll repeat that for the folks in the back, there isn’t a single USB port in this stateroom. So, bring your power bricks and adaptors because you’ll need them. There are a few U.S. and U.K. outlets, but clearly this cabin was designed before charging a phone became a necessity of life.
And as for sleeping in? Good luck. The stateroom door doesn’t seal completely, so light pours in from the hallway, from the LED indicators on the power door, from the emergency call buttons, and from a blinding red lock light that could probably guide aircraft in fog. I tried covering it with paper and the bathrobe – didn’t help. Oh, and there’s a random chunk of missing carpet by the nightstand, just in case you thought things were going too well.
All in all, the room is… well, it exists. The giant window is wonderful, but everything else about it feels like an afterthought. Cunard selling this cabin and not being forthcoming about it being a handicapped stateroom is misleading at best. It’s very clearly an accessible stateroom, and that should be disclosed upfront. For what it is, it’s fine – but for a brand that prides itself on refined elegance, this one misses the mark completely.
Queen Elizabeth Stateroom 2018 Video Tour
Sail Away and the Case of the Missing Case
Sail away was scheduled for 5 p.m., with the festivities kicking off around 3:45 up on the Lido Deck. A live band was playing, the bartenders were already in full swing, and the crowd was pretty laid back and just standing or sitting around.
Everything was picture-perfect – until it wasn’t.
After the party, I headed back to my stateroom to unpack, only to find that my luggage was nowhere to be found. No suitcase outside the door, no stray bag down the hall. I waited, figuring it might just be running late, but by 6 p.m., I started to feel the panic all cruisers know too well. I finally called the Purser’s Desk and explained the situation.
The response wasn’t exactly reassuring. “We do have a bag that sort of matches your description,” they said. Sort of? That’s not what you want to hear when you’ve packed nine days’ worth of clothes. After a quick round of “is it blue?” “is it sofrt sided?” and “is does it say Nautica on it?” we confirmed – nope, not mine. They asked for a little more time to sort it out and promised to call me back.
About half an hour later, they did. “Good news,” they said, “your bag is definitely on the ship – we just need to locate it.” Comforting, but also… yeah. You know the feeling.
Finally, at around 6:45, just as evening activities were kicking off, I heard the thunk of a suitcase hitting the hallway carpet. My bag had arrived. I can’t imagine surviving nine days on one outfit, especially not on Cunard where you actually have to dress up.
Lesson learned: next time, I’m slapping an AirTag on that thing. Because “your bag is somewhere on the ship” is not the kind of mystery I ever want to solve again.
A Peek at the Buffet, Some Gin & Notes on the Drink Package
After finally unpacking and getting myself presentable for the evening, I decided to take a walk around the ship and see what Queen Elizabeth had to offer. First stop – the Lido Deck buffet. I wasn’t planning on eating there, just curious to see what dinner service looked like on a ship with this kind of pedigree.
Well… let’s just say my expectations were a bit higher than what greeted me. When the dinner lineup includes burgers and hot dogs, I start to wonder if I accidentally wandered onto the wrong ship. For a vessel that oozes elegance everywhere else, the buffet felt a little, well… Carnival-ized. You could practically see where the parent company’s cost-cutting pencil had been at work. There were salads, some cold cuts, and a general sense of confusion about where the line started and ended – people cutting in from every direction like it was a free-for-all at Golden Corral.
It was honestly a stark contrast to The Galley on Brilliant Lady last week, which was organized, elevated, and fresh.
So, I made my way down to Deck 3 and found a little redemption at the Gin & Fizz bar and yes, it’s as good as it sounds. They specialize in my drink of choice, and the gin selection was impressive – everything from classics like Hendrick’s to rare small-batch bottles I’d never heard of. They even offered a list of tonics and garnishes.
It was here, gin in hand, that I discovered a fun little detail about my drink package – specifically, that I didn’t read the fine print. Turns out, the package included in my fare only covers drinks up to $13.50. Anything above that? Full price, plus the full 15% service charge. You can’t even pay the difference – it’s all or nothing. So those lovely, fancy gins I was sipping? Yeah, not covered.
“Drinks retailing above US$13.50, some bottles of wine, Cunard Wine Academy, and Cocktail Master Class activities. This package also includes a 15% service charge for all included drinks. Alcoholic drinks are limited to 15 beverages per 24-hour period (6 a.m. to 5:59 a.m.) Any beverage priced above US$13.50 must be purchased at full price (along with a full 15% service charge); paying the difference between the threshold and the higher price is not permitted.”
Moral of the story: always read the fine print, because apparently, my gin tastes are too premium for my drink package.
After a few “technically not included” cocktails, it was time for dinner. I’ll be diving into Queen Elizabeth’s specialty dining in tomorrow’s report, but for tonight, I opted for the ship’s main dining room – Britannia. I have open seating, which means I can join the queue through Cunard’s My Voyage website (not an app, because Cunard doesn’t have one) and get notified when my table’s ready anytime between 5:30 and 8:30.
Dinner in the Britania Dining Room
Since dinner service on Queen Elizabeth wraps up at 8:30 p.m., I joined the queue on the My Voyage site a little after 8. Within three minutes, I got the notification that a table was ready, which felt almost suspiciously efficient. I made my way down to Deck 2 – where my assigned Britannia dining room was located – checked in, and was immediately asked, “Do you mind if we take you up to Deck 3 instead?”
Sure, fine by me. I’m not picky about which deck I’m eating dinner at. So up the grand staircase I went, along with another couple who had also been redirected. Once we got to Deck 3, we were met by another host who looked confused and promptly told both of us to go back down to Deck 2 because they had tables available there. The other couple, rightfully annoyed, said, “They just sent us up here.” The host waved someone over and saying, “Take them to a table number….” then called someone else over and said,” walk this gentleman (that’s me) through the dining room and just find an open table.”
At this point, it felt like the Britannia Dining Room had entered the “organized chaos” stage of dinner service. For a cruise line that prides itself on tradition and precision, it was baffling how unprepared they seemed for the dinner rush.
Once I was finally seated, my server came over, introduced herself, handed me a menu, and took my drink order. A few minutes later, she returned to take my food order as well.
And then… nothing. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty-five minutes later, I was still staring at an empty table and an empty water glass. I finally flagged her down and said, “Not sure what’s going on, but I haven’t had a thing come out yet.” She gave me the standard “let me check” and disappeared.
The couple at the table next to me leaned over and said, “It’s a bit bonkers in here tonight.” That was putting it mildly.
Eventually, food began to appear. My shrimp cocktail arrived first – identical in size and presentation to the ones served on Carnival, which, if you’ve had one, you know means “small but technically shrimp.” Next came a feta and watermelon salad, which was fine. You can’t really mess up cubed melon and cheese, so we’ll call it a win.
For my main, I went with butter-fried flounder and a side of ravioli. The flounder was crisp, nicely breaded, and – unfortunately – cold. The ravioli? Same story. The food tasted like it had been plated 30 minutes earlier and left under a lukewarm heat lamp, probably while I was still sitting there wondering if they forgot I existed.
For dessert, I opted for the cheese and crackers – hard to screw up – and thankfully, it wasn’t.
Overall, dinner was… rough. Service was painfully slow, disorganized, and nowhere near what Cunard likes to call its famous “White Star Service.” Waiting 35 minutes for a shrimp cocktail is unacceptable on any cruise line, but especially on one that markets itself as luxury. Food quality-wise, it was right on par with what you’d expect in the main dining room on a Carnival ship – and coming from Cunard, that’s not exactly a compliment.
It’s safe to say my first dining experience aboard Queen Elizabeth didn’t exactly start off on the royal side of things.
Be Our Guest (Disney? No.)
Dinner wrapped up just in time – about fifteen minutes before the second showing of Be Our Guest in the Royal Court Theatre, Queen Elizabeth’s main showroom. I grabbed a seat a few minutes before curtain, and the cruise director came out to give a quick introduction before the lights dimmed and the ship’s company of singers and dancers took the stage.
The first pleasant surprise? A live band. Yes, an actual band playing the music instead of the pre-recorded tracks that have sadly become the norm on most cruise lines. The show’s title number, of course, borrows from the Disney classic – but Cunard-style. They reworked the lyrics to reference the ship, Cunard traditions, and the guest experience. Think Be Our Guest meets British pomp.
Over the next 45 minutes, the cast worked their way through various song-and-dance routines, some stronger than others, but overall, it was a decent production – certainly not Broadway, but not a lounge act either. The live band made all the difference, though; without them, the show would’ve landed squarely in “cruise ship filler” territory.
After the curtain call, I took a stroll around the ship’s wraparound promenade deck – one of my favorite features on any classic-style vessel. Inside, the Queen’s Room ballroom had a few couples dancing as yet another live band played standards with a vocalist. It was a reminder of the demographic onboard.
Entertainment on Queen Elizabeth wraps up around 10:30 p.m., which says a lot about the average age of the passengers. Let’s just say this isn’t exactly a late-night crowd. Most of the guests seem to be from the UK, with just a handful of Americans sprinkled in. If you’ve ever sailed on Holland America, you’ll get the vibe – quiet, and winding down well before midnight.
As I mentioned earlier, there’s no Cunard app, which feels very “2008” of them, but you can access their My Voyage website for free to manage your onboard account and dining reservations. Internet access, however, comes with a price. The basic plan – which lets you browse the web and check email – costs $22 per day. The premium plan, which adds streaming and video calls, goes for $30 per day. You can also purchase multi-device or single-day passes if you just need a quick connection. I’ll dive deeper into that in future reports.
As we sail toward our first port of call, there’s already been a change of plans thanks to Hurricane Melissa. Our itinerary has been adjusted – instead of visiting Amber Cove, Montego Bay, Belize, and Cozumel, we’re now headed to Costa Maya, Roatán, Belize, and Cozumel.
So, how was Day 1 overall? Let’s call it… challenging. Between the surprise accessible stateroom, the non-functioning keycard, the missing luggage, and a disappointing dinner, it wasn’t exactly the royal welcome I was hoping for. But there’s no denying Queen Elizabeth herself is a stunning ship – beautifully designed, graceful, and full of old-world charm. Fingers crossed that the next nine days live up to the Cunard reputation, because after today, there’s nowhere to go but up.
Daily Schedule
