10 Types Of Cruise Passengers You’ll Meet On Every Single Sailing (I’ve Been Doing This For 20 Years So Trust Me On This)

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I’ve been cruising for over twenty years and I’m somewhere around seventy cruises now.

A big chunk of those have been with Disney Cruise Line – and I’ve sat on Serenity Bay many times wondering how on earth I got so lucky.

And look, I know what you’re thinking. “Twenty years of cruising, Alison? Surely you’ve seen it all.”

Well I’ve seen a lot.

Of human behavior on ships.

Some great. Some not so great.

Here’s what nobody tells you about cruising: when you take a few thousand people, put them in a floating building, hand them unlimited food and not quite enough deck chairs… human behaviour gets amplified.

And after a while, you start noticing that it’s not random. It’s the same characters. Every. Single. Sailing.

Different ship, different itinerary, different cruise line — same cast.

Now, I’m not here to be sanctimonious about this. I am sure I have not been the perfect cruiser all the time either.

But I do think the small stuff matters.

The tiny choices people make on board are the difference between “best week of my life” and “why is everyone so annoying.”

I actually just got back from a cruise which was the latter… (spoiler, it wasn’t Disney).

So here they are. Ten passenger types you will absolutely meet — and what I’ve learned about surviving them.

Related: Things Experienced Disney Cruisers Do and You Should Too

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1. The Dawn Towel General

This is number one for a reason.

It’s 6:40am. The sun’s barely up. And someone has already draped towels, a tote bag, a paperback, a pair of flip-flops and possibly a small child’s sun hat across four prime loungers by the pool.

Then they vanish. For four hours.

You’ll find them at breakfast. Then at trivia. And by the way they have reserved chairs for that too. You will see them later in the theatre reserving a row for 10 people.

Meanwhile those four pool chairs sit there like a tiny occupied territory while actual human beings walk past, look, sigh, and go stand somewhere in the sun without a chair.

Here’s the deal: there are two types of people here.

There’s the person who genuinely camps out all day and uses the chairs — fine, that’s just commitment.

And then there’s the absentee chair-claimer, who’s essentially playing defence on real estate they have no intention of using.

Disney’s actually pretty good about this compared to some lines.

I’ve watched Cast Members quietly move belongings from unattended charis and I have to admit it is deeply satisfying to witness.

My advice?

On Castaway Cay and Lookout Cay, take the tram further down the beach. Everyone crowds the first stretch. Walk five more minutes and the chair drama evaporates.

And if you see a “chair hogging incident” report it to a Cast Member so they can deal with it.

2. The Elevator Squeezer

The doors open. There are already eleven people, two strollers and a wheelchair inside.

And this person looks at that scene and thinks: yes, room for me.

They step in. They turn sideways. They cheerfully announce “we’ll all fit!” while you slowly become one with the wall and reconsider your life choices.

I get it.

Deck 11 to Deck 2 feels like a long walk when you’ve got kids melting down.

But honestly? I now just take the stairs 80% of the time, and I genuinely think it’s the single best thing I’ve ever done for my mood on a cruise.

No waiting.

No squeezing.

And you can eat an extra Mickey Bar guilt-free.

Let the doors close. Catch the next one. It’s thirty seconds of your holiday.

And please please please let people in wheelchairs go first. It’s just the right thing to do.

3. The Buffet Architect

Cabanas on a sea day. Watch closely and you’ll spot them.

This isn’t a person choosing lunch. This is a person building a structure. Every station represented. Carved meat leaning against a curry. Pasta forming a retaining wall. A bread roll balanced on top like a keystone.

And the plate is going to sit there while they go back for a second plate, because they’re not finished yet.

I just saw someone on the cruise I just disembarked from pile a plate 8 layers high. I am impressed it all stayed on the plate for the walk back to the table .

Here’s what always gets me: the buffet isn’t going anywhere.

You can go back.

That’s literally the entire point of a buffet.

But the Architect treats it like a one-shot heist, and then half of it gets scraped into a bin because nobody actually wants lukewarm curry-adjacent lasagne.

I’ve done it, by the way. Early in my cruising life, on a Med sailing, I built something on a plate that I can only describe as an insult to three separate cuisines.

Learn from me.

Small plates, multiple trips.

4. The All Aboard Optimist

This is the person who treats the “all aboard” time as a vibe rather than a deadline.

They’re strolling back from town at a leisurely pace, shopping bags swinging, absolutely convinced that a 144,000-tonne ship is going to hang about because they wanted one more look at a straw hat.

Sometimes they make it, red-faced, with two minutes to spare and a small crowd on Deck 11 cheering them on. Sometimes they don’t, and they’re the people you see on the pier in the videos, waving, while the ship pulls away.

Now I will never be that person. I am British and that means being early for everything!

Having now lived almost half my life in the US has cut this down a bit, but I am still early!

Here’s the rule I live by: be back an hour early. Sit on the ship. Have a drink. Watch everyone else panic. It’s the most relaxing forty-five minutes of your entire cruise.

Related: Family Sues Disney When Child Falls Out of Bunkbed

5. The Drink Package Warrior

I have sailed many times with cruise lines that have a drinks package option.

And some people on those cruise lines behave in a certain way.

They bought the package. And my goodness, they are going to win the getting the most out of the package challenge.

Cocktail at 10am? That early morning essential Mimosa.

Sure.

Another at the pool.

Another because they’re walking past a bar.

By about 3pm you can watch the arithmetic happening behind their eyes — they’re no longer drinking because they want a drink, they’re drinking because they’ve calculated they need 2.4 more to break even.

And it stops being about enjoyment and becomes a maths problem.

Now here’s something I genuinely appreciate about Disney Cruise Line, and hardly anyone talks about it: there is no unlimited alcohol package.

You pay as you go.

And the knock-on effect on the atmosphere is enormous. The pool deck feels like a family holiday, not a place where drinking is a competetive sport.

Related: What Not To Pack on a Disney Cruise

6. The Cruise Director Of Their Own Family

You’ll hear them before you see them.

They’ve got a laminated plan.

Actually laminated.

They’re briefing the group at breakfast on the day’s non-negotiables: character meet at 9:15, Funnel Vision at 11, family photo on the stairs at 4 “because the light’s better,” dinner rotation, then the show.

And if one family member fancies a nap instead? That’s not relaxing. That’s betrayal.

Here’s the sad bit: it usually comes from love.

They’ve saved for this.

They want it to matter.

They want everyone to have The Best Time.

But I’ll tell you what I’ve learned across almost seventy cruises — my absolute favourite memories are almost never the planned ones.

They’re the unplanned coffee on the verandah at sunrise. The random conversation with a Cast Member. The night we skipped the show and just sat there on the pool deck.

Plan about 60%. Leave the rest alone.

7. The Instant Best Friend

You made eye contact in the coffee queue. That’s it. It’s done.

They now know your cabin number, your children’s names, your dinner rotation, and they’ve suggested you all meet up at the pool bar. Twice. Today.

And listen — some of my genuinely favourite cruise memories involve people I met on board. Cruise friendships are a real and lovely thing.

But not everybody boarded to make friends. Some people boarded to read a book and be left alone in a corner of the Quiet Cove pool deck like a slightly damp hermit.

The trick is having a warm exit ready. “Oh that sounds lovely — we’ve got a thing, but we’ll look out for you!” Kind, vague, final. Nobody’s feelings hurt.

8. The “But We’re On Holiday” Parent

Right. Careful territory, so let me be clear: I’ve got three kids. I have cruised with them at every age including now they are grown up.

I am firmly on Team Family.

But there’s a difference between a child having a wobble — which happens, and which every parent on that ship understands — and a parent who treats posted rules as suggestions.

The swim diaper rules. The buffet tongs. The kids climbing on the foosball table (yes I just saw it while their parents pretended not to see).

Those rules aren’t Disney being fussy. They exist because the consequences land on everyone, and usually on the crew who have to close a pool for hours. Or deal with the consequences when someone gets hurt.

Disney makes it easier than any line I’ve sailed. There’s an entire kids’ club, a nursery, splash areas designed by age. Use them. That’s what they’re there for.

9. The Gratuity Rationaliser

This one always gets heated.

Someone announces they’ve removed the automatic gratuities because they “prefer to tip personally” or “the cruise line should pay them more.”

And honestly? Both of those can be defensible positions. If you follow through.

Here’s the problem.

Not everyone who removes gratiuties is going to give them personally. I completely get it and know so people do and that is great. I am not talkimg about you.

I am talking about the guests who remove the automatic tips and doesn’t tip personally either.

The fairness of the gratuity system for the Cast Members is a topic for another discussion, but please don’t remove tips

If you remove tips it comes out of the pocket of the woman who remembered on night one that your daughter is allergic to nuts and quietly sorted it every single evening without you asking. The one who every night made a Mickey shape with ketchup, or who leaves you an amusing towel animal wearing your sun glassses.

If you want to tip extra on top?

Amazing. Do it. They deserve it. But leave the automatic gratuities alone and tip extra if you want to.

10. The Voice

And here we are. Number ten. The might be the wost of them all because this probably is not the only trait in this list that they have.

This isn’t loudness. I want to be really clear about that. Loud people are fine. Loud people are often brilliant.

This is a tone.

It’s requests delivered as instructions.

It’s clicking fingers.

It’s visible irritation when something needs explaining.

It’s a total, absolute assumption that a Cast Member exists as a function rather than a person with a name badge that says which country they’re from and a family they haven’t seen in seven months.

I have heard people talk to Disney crew in a way that made me physically wince.

And here’s what twenty years has taught me.

The Cast Members on these ships work contracts that would flatten most of us.

They remember your name by the second night. They know your kid’s favourite drink. They will absolutely go above and beyond for you — and here’s the funny thing, they go even further for the people who are decent to them.

Say please. Learn their name. Ask where they’re from. It costs you nothing and it will genuinely make your cruise even better.

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What I’ve Actually Learned

Three things.

One: cruise lines have personalities. Some skew loud and boozy. Some skew quiet and retired. Disney skews family, and yes, that means kids everywhere — but it also means no casino, no unlimited drinks package, no fights over chicken nuggets. If the behaviours on this list are your nightmare, choose accordingly. The cruise line you pick determines about 80% of who you’re sharing the week with.

Two: work out what you actually want. Relaxation? Nightlife? Character meet ad greet. A week where your kids disappear happily into a club and you get to read an entire book? Be honest, then book the line that delivers that — not the one that’s cheapest and then makes you miserable.

Three: small things compound. Waiting for the next elevator. Not claiming chairs you won’t use. Leaving the gratuities alone. Saying thank you. Multiply that by 4,000 people and you get either a wonderful ship or a grim one.

Nobody’s doing this perfectly. That’s not the point.

The point is that a cruise is a shared thing — probably the most shared holiday there is — and the sum of everyone’s small decisions is what makes it magic or makes it a very long week.

Which of these behaviors upsets you the most?

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