A new wave at sea
Cruises once meant buffets and rigid schedules — but Virgin Voyages has turned that on its head with a younger, freer, more inclusive way to sail, writes Tatyana Leonov
I’m staring down at a tabletop grill in Gunbae, the buzzy Korean barbecue restaurant at the back of the Valiant Lady, as laughter swells around me. I’m seated beside people I haven’t met — yet — but right now we’re perfect strangers playing the drinking game Sam-Yuk-Gu, or 3-6-9. At each turn you count upwards, clapping whenever you say a number with 3, 6 or 9 instead of speaking it. Mess up, and you take a complimentary shot of soju. It’s simple (sort of), a little chaotic as you pick up speed, and good fun. Somehow, six strangers navigating the game become a small, improvised community, bonded by laughter, shared mistakes and fleeting triumphs.
I came on this Miami, Key West, Bimini cruise alone, expecting a somewhat quiet escape — time reading in the sun and dipping into the pool between stops. Instead, I’ve found myself swept into moments like this, where the ship’s design nudges people together but never forces. That balance is what Richard Branson had in mind when Virgin Voyages launched in 2021. Cruises had long carried a reputation for buffet queues, rigid schedules and a clientele skewing older. Branson’s vision was to strip all that back and create an experience kind of holiday that felt freer, younger and above all, more inclusive.
That spirit shows up everywhere, but perhaps most vividly in the dining. Gunbae is raucous and communal, but elsewhere the tone shifts. At Pink Agave, I sip a mezcal cocktail over lightly seared mole-topped prawns, chatting with a couple who have slid into the seats next to mine. At Extra Virgin, a cosy trattoria, I linger quietly over handmade pasta without saying a word to anyone. The Wake offers grand steakhouse glamour with a staircase made for entrances, while Razzle Dazzle leans playful with its cheeky cocktails and colourful vegetarian dishes. And then there’s The Galley, a food-hall-style marketplace that replaces the dreaded buffet. Instead of ladling mystery stews from a line of chafing dishes, you can wander between ramen, sushi, tacos and all-day breakfast counters, ordering smaller plates at your own pace. Eating on board feels intentional, like it does on land, whether you want to graze, indulge or simply have a quiet dinner for one.
The same flexibility plays out across the decks. The main pool — called the Aquatic Club — is smaller than on some megaships, but it’s less about laps and more about energy. By day, DJs keep the beat going as Virgin’s Happenings Cast drift in and out, co-ordinating games, performances and spontaneous fun. At night, the space transforms. On Scarlet Night, Virgin’s signature themed party, the ship glows crimson and passengers show up in every shade of red imaginable. I find myself swept into a crowd of dancers, my clumsy moves no different from anyone else’s, because the whole point is to let loose. The atmosphere is more festival than cruise, a reminder that sometimes fun is most memorable when it’s least polished.
Yet it isn’t all high-octane. The Dock, a Mediterranean-inspired lounge tucked at the ship’s stern, offers shaded daybeds, live acoustic sets and mezze plates that arrive steadily as the afternoon drifts on. I spend hours here one afternoon with a book, the wake trailing behind like a silver thread. Later, I dip into the spa’s thermal suite, soaking in a hot pool and melting away time in a steam room.
The Manor nightclub tempts with mirrored corridors and pulsing beats, but it’s as easy to stop in for 10 minutes as it is to dance until dawn. Everywhere I go, the choice is mine — and every option feels equally valid.
Even on shore, the ethos holds. At Bimini in the Bahamas, Virgin’s private beach club hums with cocktails, cabanas and DJ sets, but beyond the gates lies a village of pastel houses and conch shacks where locals show me how they harvest the shellfish fresh from the sea. I spend the morning learning about the island’s traditions and the afternoon sitting poolside watching sunburnt revellers attempt dance moves while balancing on huge floaties.
The inclusivity is subtle, but constant. Solo cabins are priced fairly and designed smartly, so you don’t feel penalised for travelling alone. Dining reservations happen through an app, giving structure without rigidity. The Happenings Cast are less cruise directors than co-conspirators, weaving play and performance into the flow of the day, but always with the understanding that participation is a choice.
Even the little touches matter: menus where vegetarian and vegan options are standard rather than secondary, hammocks on every balcony and the option of gender-neutral bathrooms in common areas. None of it is shouted about, yet all of it adds up to an atmosphere where everyone feels considered.
By the end of the week, I’ve laughed over grilled short ribs with new friends, swapped stories poolside with a New Yorker, danced barefoot under scarlet lights with strangers who quickly felt like friends, and clinked espresso martinis with a fun couple at The Wake. None of these moments were on my agenda, but they’ve become the ones I’ll remember. I came on board seeking rest and found something better: a reminder that connection, when it’s allowed to happen naturally, can be the most restorative part of all.
The journalist travelled courtesy of Virgin Voyages.
