“My first glimpse of Royal Caribbean’s Icon of the Seas, from the window of an approaching Miami cab, brings on a feeling of vertigo, nausea, amazement, and distress. I shut my eyes in defense, as my brain tells my optical nerve to try again. The ship makes no sense, vertically or horizontally. It makes no sense on sea, or on land, or in outer space. It looks like a hodgepodge of domes and minarets, tubes and canopies, like Istanbul had it been designed by idiots.” When the biggest cruise ship ever sets sail, it calls for a certain type of coverage; even if that coverage is provided by a writer who seems like he’d be happier going overboard than being trapped on a boat created by designers who did. Gary Shteyngart The Atlantic (Gift Article): Crying Myself to Sleep on the Biggest Cruise Ship Ever. “I breakfast alone at the Coastal Kitchen. The coffee tastes fine and the eggs came out of a bird. The ship rolls slightly this morning; I can feel it in my thighs and my schlong, the parts of me that are most receptive to danger.” When it comes Shteyngart on the seas, even the largest cruise ship in history leaves one thinking, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”