Psst. Hey, sailor. Are you looking for a good time? Then have I got a cruise for you. - The Boston Globe (2024)

Once we sailed out of Barcelona for an eight-day cruise to southern France, Palma de Mallorca, and Ibiza, it didn’t take long to notice some key differences between Virgin and other cruise lines. The most striking difference for me was the diversity among passengers. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen on a cruise ship.

There was a range of ages (Virgin states the average passenger age is 46), a broad mix of races and sexualities, and a healthy blend of couples and solo cruisers. Seeing such a medley of individuals on a single vessel was refreshing. The ship’s come-as-you-are (except if you have kids) message seems to have spread relatively quickly and also found a rabid audience. Virgin currently has three ships, each designed for roughly 2,700 passengers, with a fourth debuting next year.

I booked my cruise on the recommendation of friends. Still, it didn’t hurt that Virgin was named Condé Nast Traveler’s Best New Cruise in the World, along with racking up honors for Cruise Critic’s Best Overall Cruise Line, Best Cabins, Best Dining, Best Service, and Best Value-For Money. The starting rate for cabins on my cruise was $2,500 for the week for an inside cabin, and that price topped out at $15,000 for the biggest, most elaborate cabin on the ship.

But I also loved the emotional intangibles that don’t earn awards from magazines and websites. This is a cruise line that treats solo travelers like ordinary holidaymakers rather than social pariahs and weird outliers. If I were an average traveling Tom considering a solo cruise, Virgin would be my pick.

Because I travel alone a significant amount of the time, I often see meet-ups for solo cruise passengers buried in the daily program of the ship’s activities. Sometimes, I’ll drop in the first night of these meetings to say hello, and by the second night, it’s crickets — that is, if there were crickets at sea. I often skip such pre-arranged events and meet people on ships more organically, meaning drunk on piña coladas on a chaise lounge at the pool or drunk on rum punch after dinner.

But solo travelers were much more than an afterthought on my cruise. When I got to my cabin on the Scarlet Lady, a prominently displayed, eye-catching card invited me to join other solo sailors during the departure celebration. I thought it would be a standard handshake and hello gathering, but this is where it got interesting. Someone from the crew had created a WhatsApp group for solo passengers. We scanned a QR code with our phones, and instantly, I was chatting with a couple dozen new friends.

The solo travelers who populated the ship and the WhatsApp group were not timid about meeting new people. Plans were constantly made, photos were shared, and a rotating cast of characters was always present. You could do as little or as much as you wanted with the group. They were all friendly, snarky, fun, sassy, and ready for a good time. I spoke to one shy gent who had worried before going on the cruise that he would eat dinner alone every night. Instead, he was surrounded by fellow voyagers who pulled him out of his shell and onto the dance floor nightly.

When I excitedly described this setup to friends, a common question was, “Were they a bunch of losers? Who goes on a cruise by themselves?” Besides me (thanks for nothing, “friends”), many people enjoy solo travel. A woman was celebrating her birthday, a recently divorced dude looking to shake up his routine, and a terminally ill woman looking to travel to as many places as possible. Everyone had a story, and I loved hearing them. I don’t know if the solo traveler groups are this robust on other Virgin Voyages, but it was popping on my Mediterranean sailing.

You can also form social connections of another kind (wink wink, nudge nudge).

One night, while walking back to my room, I asked a fellow solo seafarer why some rooms had upside-down pineapples on their doors. I learned it’s the universal code for swingers on all cruise ships (who knew?). They weren’t common on the Scarlet Lady, but I spotted a few. It was the first time I’d seen them on any ship. It’s an adults-only ship, so I suppose more people would take the opportunity to, perhaps, expand their horizons. I’m not saying that the Scarlet Lady was a love-the-one-you’re-with, “The Love Boat” key party at sea, but some passengers were extra friendly (more winks, more nudges).

The other benefit of being on an adults-only ship was that the entertainment was more sophisticated than the usual cruise offerings. I didn’t spot any watered-down Broadway shows but saw an edgy retelling of “Romeo and Juliet” called “Dual Reality.” Drag queens and divas led events, and there was an adult pajama party that was insanely fun and lasted late into the night.

It may seem as if I’m focusing too much on shipboard culture and not enough on the meat and potatoes of a cruise, namely the cabins, food options, and excursions. Guilty as charged. But the atmosphere and vibe of the Scarlet Lady were so different from other cruises I’ve taken, and I think it’s vital for potential passengers to know. If you’re a traditionalist who enjoys talking to your butler every morning and evening, this is not your cruise. I barely saw my butler.

There were no hourly announcements on the PA system informing passengers of the next event. You keep track of the activities from an app on your phone. Unfortunately, the app tended to be glitchy, but it could usually be remedied by restarting my phone.

Even the rooms themselves were different from a run-of-the-mill ship. It was like staying in a hotel, although I thought there was a bit of wasted space. A comfortable couch could have occupied an empty corner, but I did enjoy the room’s sleek design. I viewed it as a place to sleep, not a place to lock myself away from the fun. This was a ship set up for socializing.

The restaurant setup is also different from most cruise ships. There’s no main dining room. Instead, 20-plus restaurants are scattered around the ship, some more intimate than others. There are standards, such as pizza restaurants. Still, there’s also experimental fare, such as the Test Kitchen, where the menu is presented as an ingredient list, and chefs cleverly present those ingredients in unique ways. While chatting with a Russian couple, I had a mushroom dish, which was mushroom foam in the shape of a mushroom. I’m failing at the description, but it was wonderful. You can opt for the noodle restaurant, Korean barbeque, or Mexican. There’s a gelato stand instead of the standard cruise ship soft-serve machine. People love to complain about food on cruises, and I didn’t hear a complaint from fellow travelers.

I also heard no complaints about the ports of call. France and Spain in the spring were ideal, and a side trip from the French city of Marseilles to the tiny seaside village of Cassis had me swooning. Yes, we missed the stars arriving at Cannes by a day, but the town was still bustling.

Another key observation: although Virgin Voyages only launched in 2021 (delayed by COVID), I encountered a fierce brand loyalty I’d never experienced. I wondered if Virgin had planted people around the ship to tell me how much they loved it. During an unfortunate night at karaoke when my song was cut short by the drag queen/emcee/DJ, I talked to a couple in their 70s who were on their sixth Virgin cruise and planning another. A 20-something from Dubai was living on the ship for two months. A group of friends who met three cruises prior were now exclusively vacationing together and exclusively cruising on Virgin Voyages. None of them had cruised before Virgin.

When I asked past cruisers if Virgin was a party ship, I got a range of responses, from “Oh, hell yes” to “It’s whatever you want it to be.” There were events every night, but I paced myself. I knew I couldn’t take a full seven-night sprint at my advanced age. I reserved my energy for the Scarlet Party. Instead of a formal night, Virgin passengers dress in red and then hit the pool area to dance on deck, jump in the pool (fully clothed), and generally let loose. I forgot to pack a red ensemble, but thankfully, I found a red Adidas tracksuit in Mallorca.

Here I was, dressed like Ben Stiller from “The Royal Tenenbaums,” shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow passengers, decked out in red and listening to a DJ race through a selection of high-energy electronic dance-floor fillers. I had come to the party alone, and much like Billy Idol once sang, I was “Dancing With Myself.” Or so I thought. When I looked beside me, a woman was dancing along with me, and for the next hour, we wordlessly danced together, smiling and laughing. We connected through the convivial atmosphere surrounding us.

I had come on the cruise alone, but as it turns out, I was never alone. There was an unexpected openness among the passengers on the boat. Like an unexpected, friendly embrace. Those unexpected connections felt warm and as welcome as the surrounding Mediterranean breezes.

Christopher Muther can be reached at christopher.muther@globe.com. Follow him @Chris_Muther and Instagram @chris_muther.