What I found at sea: The radical act of ease

For many of us who learned responsibility before rest, rest itself can feel reserved for a future version of ourselves — the version who has already built a career, solidified relationships, and figured out their identity. Joy often gets treated the same way — postponed until life feels more settled, more secure, and more earned. That’s what made stepping aboard the brand-new Disney Destiny feel so unexpected.

I’d been moving through a season of heightened anxiety, which was born from carrying too much for too long in an age of constant information overload. I didn’t board the ship expecting a reset, but I did hope for quiet respite and to pause long enough to remind my nervous system what ease feels like again.

Sailing from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, to Cozumel, Mexico and Disney Cruise Line’s private island, Castaway Cay, the five-day voyage became something steadier: a lesson in what happens when rest is no longer something you negotiate with yourself about.

That sense of intention revealed itself immediately in the ship’s Grand Hall. Disney Destiny is themed around heroes and villains like Dr. Facilier, Cruella De Vil and Elsa, but the entrance sets a deeper tone. Immersed in the opulence of Black Panther’s Wakanda, I looked up at a towering, vibranium-inspired chandelier, sharp and glowing, unmistakably powerful. A 7-foot, over 1,000-pound statue of T’Challa, modeled after the late Chadwick Boseman, stood at the center. It was impossible to miss and even harder not to feel something.

There was reverence in the space, a quiet recognition of what imagination, power, and legacy look like when centered without explanation. It felt like being welcomed into a world where Black excellence was foundational, not ornamental. In many ways, it felt like Wakanda at sea, both protected and unapologetically grand.

Once the ship set sail, the pace softened almost immediately. The ship felt designed to hold you rather than overwhelm you, balancing Disney nostalgia with a modern, grown energy. From artwork throughout the vessel, including sketches by Oscar-winning wardrobe stylist Ruth E. Carter and custom artwork from illustrator Nikkolas Smith, to thoughtfully curated adult-only spaces, everything invited you to slow down.

De Vil’s, a Cruella de Vil-themed speakeasy, and The Rose, a rooftop cocktail lounge inspired by Beauty and the Beast, were among my favorites. In these spaces, nothing demanded urgency or optimization. You could sit, talk, people-watch, enjoy an impromptu performance, or do nothing at all and still feel exactly where you were meant to be.

Food became another unexpected source of relief. I live with severe food allergies, which often turns travel into a quiet exercise in vigilance. On Disney Destiny, that anxiety softened almost immediately.

Each meal began with a manager checking in, documenting my needs, and sending a pink allergen slip directly to the chef. My food was prepared separately, personally overseen, and delivered clearly labeled and covered. I was even given the option to pre-order days in advance.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t bracing for something to go wrong. That sense of safety didn’t just change how I ate, it changed how I rested.

The ship’s rotational dining experience began with dinner at The Marvel Restaurant and ended with a show featuring our dedicated dining staff. On the second night, dinner was at Pride Lands, The Lion King-inspired dinner show that blended Broadway-level vocals with dishes rooted in African diaspora culinary traditions, including oxtail.

The dinner performance was guided by the incomparable voice of Regina LeVert, who portrays Mwongozo at Pride Lands. Through song and storytelling, she anchored the evening in something deeper than spectacle. 

When asked what it meant to bring this story to life in a communal dining setting, she shared:  “This story just means so much to me and being able to tell it in a way that’s filled with joy and love and peace, especially now with what’s happening in this country… to be able to tell this story and have it just be this simple yet multilayered thing because those themes are very simple. It’s love and it’s joy and it’s peace and connection.”

Beyond the themed dining rooms, we visited Palo Steakhouse, an adults-only restaurant inspired by Beauty and the Beast, where the service and quality rivaled any five-star restaurant on land. It felt like an upscale reset.

Yet even within these curated experiences, there was room for joy without hierarchy: late-night pizza and fries, king crab legs for lunch, and Mickey Mouse waffles for breakfast. The ship made it clear that joy didn’t need to choose a lane. It could be elevated and nostalgic at once.

One of the most resonant moments on board came during a performance of Hercules, reimagined for this ship with a Black actor in the lead role. Seeing a Black man embody a hero we grew up watching felt affirming in a way that didn’t need to announce itself. After the performance, I spoke with Corey Bradford, who played the titular character, about what it meant to step into the role and what it meant for his inner child to see himself reflected that way.

“It allowed me to regain my belief in myself…this showed me that I can do it,” he said almost immediately. “When I saw the listing for Hercules, I felt so called to bring this role to life. And now here I am. … I know what believing in yourself can do. I’ve seen it. I’m living it.”

It was a reminder that representation matters, even in spaces designed for leisure. Throughout the ship, joy surfaced naturally in laughter with strangers who quickly felt familiar and friendships formed without much effort. Social media exchanges turned into real-life connections already worth planning to see again. Community arrived when I stopped rushing past it.

The land days followed that same rhythm. In Cozumel, time at a beach club unfolded through tequila tastings and cocktail-making classes that felt playful and grown. At Castaway Cay, the energy softened even further. After time on the family beach, I made my way to the adults-only stretch, Serenity Bay.

Designed for relaxation, it lived up to its name. You could choose your own pace and linger at the bar or settle into a beach chair with a drink delivered to you. 

One of the most striking moments came as the ship pulled away from Cozumel. Everyone gathered on deck, the air warm, and the shoreline faded as we moved steadily forward. 

Then the unexpected: fireworks.

Out at sea, with nothing but water and sky around us, as colors burst overhead, reflecting onto the ocean in waves. Watching them bloom and dissolve into the night, I realized how tightly I’d been holding myself. For a few minutes, anxiety didn’t have the floor. Wonder did.

Moments like that are easy to dismiss as spectacle, but for me, they were grounding reminders that my nervous system needs beauty just as much as rest.

On the mornings between land excursions, I woke early and sat on the balcony with champagne poured, books open, the ocean stretching endlessly ahead. The water shifted from deep navy to bright turquoise as the sun climbed higher. The sound of waves and occasional laughter that drifted from neighboring balconies filled the air.

There were no alarms or urgency, only stillness.

By then, my body already felt different. The anxiety hadn’t disappeared, but it had lessened. In that quiet, I realized the trip hadn’t erased anything but brought me back into alignment with myself. A welcome reminder of what it feels like to exist without bracing for what comes next.

As the cruise came to an end, Corey Bradford’s words about liberation kept circling back to me. During our earlier chat, he said the one word that summed up how he felt about playing Hercules was “liberation.” 

“I feel like a lot of times liberation can come out as a lot of other emotions, but it looks so different to me from time to time. I feel honored to do that. And within liberation is that honor to be here. I present this to you for us from us,” he explained.

His words lingered through the remainder of the voyage. Over five days, freedom took many forms. I couldn’t help but think, maybe that’s what being a Disney Adult really means: permitting yourself to exist in spaces designed for wonder without justification. The cruise created a world where rest wasn’t rushed, and joy wasn’t policed. “We came to play” was a tagline that often appeared on board, and we did exactly that.

Choosing rest before burnout and joy before permission is a radical act. Sometimes liberation looks like a Black man presenting Hercules for us, from us. Sometimes it looks like choosing ease on purpose as the ship carries you toward something softer than what you left behind.

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