First, don’t be Russian. If you are, kiss it goodbye.
This article probably won’t be of interest to this blog’s readers.
But let’s say you’re a rightwing billionaire who came by to read this article, and happen to have $500 million you don’t know what to do with. I feel your pain, and I’m here to offer a solution: Buy your own cruise ship.
Lots of people are doing it. According to BBC News (here), 40 years ago there were only 24 private yachts over 98 feet in the world, and now there are 5,000-plus of them. Each providing 50-100 jobs that trickled down from Saudi or Russian oil money, or the Reagan, Bush, and Trump tax cuts. That’s a quarter to half a million jobs, you know, so don’t say cutting taxes on the rich doesn’t trickle down.
Think of the advantages. You don’t have to ride the ferry anymore. No homeless people sleeping on the seats. No mask rules. No strangers, only crew, coughing in your face. Above all it can go wherever you like, which comes in real handy when your wife files for divorce, or puts a contract out on you, depending on the customs of your country of origin.
I can think of only two disadvantages. One, finding a marina with a dock big enough to tie up to, when you need to go ashore. Two, keeping Ukraine from torpedoing it and the U.S. or NATO from seizing it. I can’t help with the docking problem, but here’s a suggestion: Fly a big, fat, easily visible American flag on it.
That won’t keep you from getting boarded. Even Putin can buy a U.S. flag from Amazon and have it sent to a blind post office box. They know that. So have your papers in order. Be able to show the tub is registered to a U.S. citizen, or at least a Belize lawyer who isn’t currently under indictment for money laundering. I mean the whole frickin’ paper trail, from sales agreement to delivery documentation, and complete fingerprint sets and DNA samples of everyone who’s ever touched it.
Let’s say a friend you met on a park bench gave you the superyacht for your birthday on the little condition that you allow him to take it for a spin once in a while. In that case, all of the above still applies, but also make sure the paperwork is in English, not Cyrillic, and pay the insurance, fueling dock, food suppliers, and crew in dollars, not Bitcoin and certainly not rubles.
And don’t spill wine on the leather seats or scratch the teak handrails. Even though it’s your boat, your friend will put polonium in your drink for that. And clean the toilets and serve him his drinks when he tells you to.
