In Which There Is A Change Of Course

Reporting from Seattle, June 26, 2025

“You’re either on the bus or you’re off the bus,” Merry Prankster Ken Kesey, as quoted in Tom Wolfe’s “The Electric Acid Kool Aid Test.”

Many of you know that I’ve had a tough time lately deciding whether to be on the bus or off the bus, the bus in this particular case being Villa Vie Odyssey’s Never-Ending Perpetual “We Apologize For The Inconvenience” world tour.

My ambivalence, believe it or not, has nothing to do with the creature comforts or lack thereof on the Odyssey. I’ve made my peace with the reality that the small daily annoyances of being here — the inconsistent wi-fi, the non-existent hot tubs or satellite tv, the hot-water shower roulette, the clerical screw-ups too numerous to name, even the shitty beer — are never going to change. This is how life is going to be on this ship, for now and in the foreseeable future. I keep waiting for someone to say at one of our many lifeboat drills: “In the event of an actual emergency You may use our apologies as a flotation device.”

However, as another bespectacled gentleman once said, “ I used to be disgusted, now I try to be amused.” And mostly, I succeed

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I’m having, more often than not, a pretty great time. We just sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge, we docked at the Embarcadero. We’re dropping anchor at two of my favorite cities in the world — Seattle and Vancouver. And after that, we’re going to Alaska, to the Inside Passage and beyond, to Japan and South Korea and Taiwan, unless, you know, there’s a war going on when we get there. If that happens, even I won’t blame Villa Vie.

Passing under Golden Gate Bridge. Disappointed by lack of super-intelligent apes.

The concept behind Villa Vie Residences— giving people an affordable way to live on a cruise ship while seeing the whole damn world — was brilliant. It still is. That they’ve been able to pull off even this diminished version is an accomplishment worth noting. I had serious doubts as to whether we’d ever make it out of Belfast, across the Atlantic or into U.S. ports. But we did. This is not a small thing.

But, as I may have occasionally implied, it hasn’t always gone well. More often than not, Villa Vie’s management style has been, let’s say, somewhat short-sighted. Starting in Belfast — well, actually, long before Belfast — anticipating problems was not their strong suit.

Should they have known there were so many issues with the 30-year old ship before they agreed to buy it. Yeah, probably. And once they realized how many problems there were, should they have delayed the start of the cruise? Yeah, definitely.

The argument against waiting, apparently, was that after the very public failures of Life At Sea and other aborted attempts at launching residential cruise lines, Villa Vie couldn’t afford to delay its launch. They feared the bad publicity would endanger the entire enterprise and frighten off investors. So instead they announced a launch date that should have known they couldn’t meet and crossed their fingers that maybe, somehow, they’d figure it out in time. They didn’t.

The Odyssey in dry dock in Belfast.

And thus came the months-long Siege of Belfast, with all the even-worse publicity that inevitably resulted. Not to mention the angry and disappointed customers or the millions of dollars thrown down the dry-docked money pit that the Odyssey rapidly became. Instead of mea culpas, Villa Vie shrouded their explanations of ongoing problems with unattractive doses of scapegoating. Everything was always somebody else’s fault. It was not a good look.

When pressed for details about some of their decisions, Villa Vie tended to go immediately into a defensive crouch, as if questioning their explanations was a capital offense. This was their stance in public and in private, often sending pointed messages to Residents they thought were asking too many questions (or asking them too publicly,) trying to shame them into silence. Early on , when we were still in Befast, they threw two of them off the ship, with the rationale that their questions and complaints were “bad for morale.”

What was really bad for morale, though, was the chilling sense that it wasn’t safe for Residents to speak out —— or even ask questions — out of fear that they might also get the heave-ho. It was a notion reinforced by the Resident Cheerleaders, self-appointed Positivity Police, mostly Founders with huge investment stakes in The Company, who took it upon themselves to chastise anyone who didn’t sing the unequivocal praises of Villa Vie and its management team.

That sense that we’re always being watched and judged for our loyalty — although it’s certainly given me plenty to write about —has put a damper on many Residents’ ability to fully enjoy their journey. With a few notable exceptions, they whisper complaints instead of making them out loud. They look over their shoulders. And a few have left the Odyssey because of it. I was sad to see them go.

Actual photo of Cheerleader looking out for troublemakers.

So, I’ve been asking myself, is this really an environment in which I want to spend the next 3 years? It’s a tiny world here on the Odyssey, 250 people who have to live with each other whether we like it or not. I’ve written this before and it’s still true: This is like being in a small high school, in all the good ways and the bad. There are cliques and there are bullies, fast friendships and lots of gossip. It can be intense.

More than anything, I’ve long since lost confidence in Villa Vie management, their ability to anticipate problems and their lack of straightforwardness when they occur. To be fair, they have had some awful luck: storms that waylaid containers of supplies, medications and parts necessary for major repairs, the shipyard in Belfast that went bankrupt while were drydocked, exacerbating our delays. Not everything has been their fault.

But much of it has been. It feels like they’re in crisis mode most of the time, reacting to problems they should have seen coming, obfuscating when asked why they didn’t. This is not exactly a management style that engenders confidence. Or trust.

Actual photo of Villa Vie management answering questions.

Villa Vie — and the Cheerleaders — would tell you that everything’s fine now. That the logistical and mechanical issues were just bumps in the road, er, ocean. They would tell you that they’re in fine financial shape, with plenty of funding and even bigger plans on the horizon. Only good times lie ahead.

Maybe. But I’m not willing to bet on it. Which is why, in November when I won’t owe Villa Vie any more money and they won’t owe any to me, I’m leaving the Big Ass World Cruise. I’ll disembark in Cairns, Australia. If I were to leave any sooner, I’d have to ask them for a refund, which I’m not confident I’d receive. If I stayed any longer, I’d have to write them another check. Which I don’t want to do.

Fear not. I’ll still be here for another 5 months. Ridiculous things will happen and “Unmoored” will continue, even after I’m off the bus.