Carnival Cruise to Cozumel

We met up in New Orleans at the port, but you already know we couldn’t start a trip without an early beignet run. Powdered sugar everywhere, coffee in hand, and nurses finally starting to exhale as the “real world” faded and vacation mode slowly kicked in. From there, it was off to the ship—bags rolling, jokes flying, a little “I can’t believe we actually made it” energy in the air.

Once on board, we headed straight to lunch because… priorities. Plates full, ocean views, and that first moment of, Oh, this is really happening. After we found our rooms and dropped our bags, it was time to trade hospital hallways for the open deck. We made our way up toward the sail-away deck party—music bumping, wind in our hair, phones out capturing it all. No charts. No shifts. Just healthcare professionals dancing, laughing, and watching New Orleans disappear behind us as the ship carried us toward rest and Cozumel.
Did we say the weather was PERFECT!

A day at sea was exactly what their souls ordered. No alarms. No call lights. No “can you cover this shift?” texts. Just nurses finally letting their bodies catch up to their hearts. Some slept in without guilt; curtains closed, phones on do not disturb, rocking gently with the waves like a lullaby they didn’t know they needed. Others found their people on the deck and in the café, laughing loudly, swapping stories over coffee and pastries, finally talking about life instead of just work and stress.

By evening, they traded scrubs for elegance. All white. Soft glam. Edges laid, jewelry shining, and that “oh, hey, I clean up nice” confidence walking into the dining room. They clinked glasses, savored every course, took pictures like it was prom for grown folks, and for one beautiful night, they weren’t charge nurse, tech, or supervisor—they were women fully present, fully seen, and fully allowed to rest.

Cozumel day was pure adventure with a side of exhale.

We started with our private tour of the island, rolling through Cozumel like VIPs. First stop: San Miguel Church, where some lit candles, whispered quiet prayers, or just sat in the stillness soaking in the moment. From there, we shifted gears at Casa Mission for the tequila tour; laughing, learning, and yes, tasting, as we heard how it’s made and sampled a little “liquid vacation.”

Next up was a little shop at a beach bazaar; browsing souvenirs, trying on hats, grabbing trinkets for kids and grandbabies back home. Then we headed to Chula’s Beach Club, where the water was calling. Some dipped their toes in, some went all the way in, some just claimed a chair, a drink, and a moment of peace. After the beach, we wrapped it up with more shopping in downtown Cozumel, colorful streets, local vendors, and last-minute finds, before heading back to the port, tired in the best way. It was the kind of day that reminded them there’s life, color, and joy waiting beyond the walls of work.

A day at sea was the kind of slow, playful rest they didn’t know they were starving for. Many of the nurses finally slept in—no alarms, no night shift hangover, no one needing anything from them. When they did roll out of bed, the day was wide open: bingo sessions full of laughter and loud “BINGO!” moments, picking up the latest line dances on deck, and acting like they hadn’t just complained about their knees a week before. In between, there were Guy’s Burgers—no calorie counting, no “I’ll just have a salad,” just hot fries, juicy burgers, and pure enjoyment.

And because nurses don’t know how not to make things fun, we turned the day into our own runway moment with a creative scrubs fashion show. Bedazzled, accessorized, remixed scrubs strutted down our “catwalk” while everybody hyped each other up like celebrities. It was silly, joyful, and healing—no badge, no title, just a bunch of healthcare professionals remembering how to play again.

The last day came way too fast.

We rolled back into New Orleans rested, sun-kissed, and just a little salty that it was over. Bags in hand, hair wrapped or in ponytails, everybody looked softer, like the edge was gone from their shoulders. The ship was behind us, real life was waiting, but something in us had shifted.

On the way home, group chats were already popping: sharing photos, inside jokes, “remember when…” moments, and of course, the most important question: “So when is the NEXT getaway?” They came back to their patients, families, and routines with lighter hearts, clearer minds, and just enough holy defiance to say, I deserve this kind of rest more than once a year.

Rested. Refreshed. And already plotting the next escape.