There are few social experiments more revealing than a luxury resort or cruise. Place people near turquoise water, unlimited buffets, and frozen cocktails before noon, and civilization begins deteriorating almost immediately. I say this as a woman who has spent years observing resort behavior from shaded cabanas across the globe. I’ve witnessed dramatic affairs in Capri, emotional support parrots in Palm Beach, and one woman in Monaco who became so enraged over a delayed spa appointment she threatened to “speak directly to maritime authorities,” despite not being anywhere near a boat. But nothing compares to the modern phenomenon of unsupervised resort children. My“Why”To Hide — by Elise Carrington Luxury must be comfortable. It should also preferably be child-free. — Olivia Montclair Now let me clarify something before the parenting committees arrive carrying bamboo snack containers and passive aggression. I do not dislike children. Children can be delightful at times. What I dislike are parents who vanish emotionally the second they locate a swim-up bar, leaving their offspring to roam luxury properties like tiny intoxicated Vikings. There was once an understanding that elegant resorts required elegant behavior. Children stayed reasonably supervised and used indoor voices. Nobody performed gymnastics near the antipasto display. Today? Absolute bedlam wrapped in SPF 50. Last winter at a Caribbean resort, I watched a small boy in floaties sprint directly through a wedding photo shoot while holding half a hot dog and screaming, “I HAVE TO GO POTTY!” with the urgency of a man evacuating a casino fire. Surprisingly, nobody stopped him. The bride simply closed her eyes for a long moment while the photographer quietly lowered his camera and stared out toward the sea as though reconsidering humanity itself. I wish I were exaggerating when I tell you I witnessed a child in neon goggles emerged from the pool holding someone else’s wig and shouted, “LOOK WHAT I FOUND!” Meanwhile, his mother continued sipping sangria with the thousand-yard calm of a woman who had fully abandoned accountability.
And let’s not forget the hotel hallways. Precisely 6:47 one morning in Miami, I opened my suite door to find three children riding luggage carts downhill, and another appeared to be wearing decorative sofa cushions as body armor. Somewhere behind them, a little girl was crying hysterically because her brother had allegedly “looked at her pancake.” The room service attendant nearby stood frozen in silence clutching a silver coffee pot like a hostage negotiator. But the absolute worst behavior can be witnessed at the buffets. Transforming unsupervised children into tiny cruise ship warlords. Chocolate fountains become contact
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