'Like a sore thumb' isn't quite the right comparison. Nothing about Icon of the Seas looks particularly painful, or like it's trapped in a suddenly slammed door. But as I approach it from mainland Florida, glide across the water on the Port Miami Bridge and then pass the other maritime giants moored at the city's various cruise terminals, one thing is certain. That there, at the end of the road, Royal Caribbean's newest ship stands out.
It also sticks up - funnels stick up towards the sky; the colored jumble of water slides is visible on the upper deck. But most of all - to the point that I wonder how the 'smaller' ships anchored in the back of the canal will get around it - it is striking.
That could also be possible. Although it's only now launching at the end of January, Icon of the Seas appears to have been in the water for months, perhaps even years, such is the amount of publicity it has generated.
Mainly because of its size. After all, this is now the largest cruise ship in the world. And the statistics are remarkable. For all the self-amused comments on social media about "human lasagna" - fueled by early renderings of the ship, with its twenty decks stacked like (if necessary) sheets of pasta - its scale speaks of formidable feats of engineering.
If you were to anchor it upright in London's soil, it would eclipse the Shard in height at 365 meters in length. If you were to open its doors there on the banks of the Thames, it could almost house a Premier League football crowd. With space for up to 7,600 passengers and 2,350 crew, it is just less than the capacity of AFC Bournemouth's Vitality Stadium (11,307). The alleged costs? Only $1.65 billion (£1.3 billion).
Stepping aboard only enhances the sense of size. Icon of the Seas is so big that its name adorns the doorway of the Royal Caribbean terminal - like that of a movie star at a red carpet premiere.
Inside, guests submit to standard airport check-in procedures: all passport control, x-ray machines and security scans. It is not a careless quick process. But the queue nevertheless ripples with a discernible buzz.
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"We booked this eight months ago," comes an excited voice from right behind me; the giddy conversation of an American family with teenage children. "We absolutely cannot wait." He adjusts his designer sunglasses, which have slipped off his nose in his enthusiasm. It's Dad talking.
And yet, once we get to the ship, this commotion seems to disappear. Everything is signposted. An army of staff, in orange T-shirts with brand logos, is ready to give directions. The lifts are hardly less helpful, arranged in clusters of nine. Request your deck via one of several touchscreens, and the screen immediately responds with the letter of the portal you need to take, from A to I. Even though I'm on the 14th deck, just five minutes after crossing I'm in my stateroom the threshold of the ship. Big doesn't have to equal mind-boggling.
Remarkably, Royal Caribbean is keen, if not precise, to downplay Icon's unprecedented size, then shy away from highlighting it as its sole defining feature. There has been a lot of talk about the ship's facilities - about its seven separate swimming pools (claimed as a record); from the more than 40 restaurants (serving everything from sushi and steak to sandwiches and snacks), bars and dining rooms; of the ship's ability to recycle "waste" heat from the engines and convert it into onboard electricity.
But there is also an optimistic mood in the air, borne of satisfaction (and no doubt a dose of post-pandemic relief) at a major project that has been accomplished. "When we sailed into Miami a week ago on Icon of the Seas, we came in very loud - unapologetically -," said Michael Bayley, president of Royal Caribbean, during a small media meeting. "We put $100,000 worth of speakers on the side of the ship and woke up the city. We stopped traffic."
Even if there is exaggeration, the obvious confidence does not end there. In December, football superstar Lionel Messi - not coincidentally, now playing in the US for Inter Miami after leading Argentina to World Cup glory in 2022 - was heralded as what might one day be called the 'godmother' of the ship, but In this case it is succinctly described as "the icon for the icon".
This confident spirit leaks at the ship's departure; a 10-minute farewell fireworks display set off on a ship on Miami's waterfront; a gunpowder extravaganza only slightly tempered by the fact that it begins in the twilight of sunset, the various bursts of explosive red, green and gold becoming somewhat lost against the orange sky.
The spectacle provokes a 'sorry-too-busy' shrug of the shoulders from the forklift drivers moving between the sea containers on the adjacent quay, but do draw a large crowd to the boulevard on the other side of the harbor. When Icon finally dives into the Atlantic Ocean and into the night - bound for CocoCay, Royal Caribbean's "private island" in the Bahamas - it does so to audible cheers and applause from an appreciative audience in South Pointe Park.
Despite all the signage on board, it's easy to get lost - or at least lose yourself - in the ship and its eight different 'neighborhoods'. Even if you know the layout in theory. Last May I had a sneak preview of Icon of the Seas when I traveled to Finland to see it, still under construction, at the Meyer shipyard in Turku. The flashback is somewhat unnerving. Even though I'm on a recognizably same ship, I'm somehow overwhelmed by the removal from the forested Scandinavian backdrop to the glow of Florida daylight - much like exploring fully varnished spaces that were inevitably left eight months ago. were in progress. .
So I'm wandering around, quite surprised at how much is crammed into Icon of the Seas without it ever feeling cramped. Central Park is a good example of this: an outdoor oasis that, although deep in the heart of the ship on deck 8, is open to the sky, while the restaurants and bars are sheltered in the shade of trees and foliage.
Elsewhere on the Royal Promenade shopping street (on deck 5), 'the Pearl' serves up technical wizardry; a huge ball of white light and soft sounds - part walk-in art installation, part murmuring comfort blanket - covered with 3,600 "kinetic tiles".
Above the bow, the Aquadome is an entertainment zone of genuine ingenuity. The "AquaTheater" inside is not a simple stage, but a water-filled mini-arena where in the evening show Aqua Action, acrobats, gymnasts and daredevils - some of them former Olympians - dive from high planks, or dive into harnesses and spin around, while a waterfall flows from the ceiling.
What's most remarkable, however, is how soft the ride is. Stuck in my cabin, I barely notice the January waves of the Atlantic Ocean during my first night's sleep. By morning the ocean is in an unpleasant mood, but no longer seems to bother the colossus gliding across it.
The white horses are especially noticeable from the best seat in the house, the bridge. Above, Henrik Loy, who has worked for the cruise line since 1997, surveys the scene with all the serenity and stoicism you would expect from a hugely experienced Norwegian sailor. "I'm very proud to be the captain of Icon of the Seas," he says, barely taking his eyes off the empty horizon before him. Farther away, through the reinforced glass, the Atlantic Ocean continues to grumble - but for now, Royal Caribbean's newest and biggest baby seems destined for a smooth arrival into the world.
