A cruise around the UAE and the wider Gulf had long been on my bucket list.
I had never been on a cruise before, so I couldn’t wait to finally board the MSC Euribia with my mum after we flew from Ireland to Dubai on Saturday, February 28.
What we didn’t realise at the time was that we were on one of the last flights to land in Dubai before air space closures began.
When we boarded the ship, we were taken aback by the sheer size of it. The reception area alone was enormous.
But after an overnight flight with little sleep, exhaustion quickly set in. Once we finished checking in, we headed straight to our cabin to rest.
From our balcony we took in the hazy view of Dubai’s skyline before deciding to get some sleep.
About an hour later, we were woken up by an announcement from the captain over the speakers.
Conflict had broken out and escalated in the region, he said, and our departure might be delayed. As the situation was unfolding in real time, he would keep passengers updated.
Still groggy and not yet connected to the ship’s wi–fi, we didn’t fully grasp the gravity of what was happening.
Later that evening, another announcement told us that the cruise would not be departing as planned because of the conflict, and it simply wouldn’t be safe.
Once we managed to connect to wi–fi, we began to see some of the news about what was unfolding. We decided to head down to reception to see if we could find out more.
For the most part, people on board seemed calm.
Staff could only repeat what the captain had already told us, so we tried to carry on as normally as possible, going for dinner, exploring the ship and having a few drinks.
By around 11.30pm, tiredness had caught up with us again and we decided to call it a night. But just as we were getting ready for bed, we began to hear loud noises outside – the sound of fighter jets overhead.
We tried not to panic, and then, just after midnight, everything changed. Our phones suddenly blared with government emergency alerts telling us to seek shelter immediately and stay away from windows and open areas.
At the same time, there were alarming noises we could hear from outside, near the city and from the sky.
There were several alerts in quick succession. Looking back now, much of it is a blur. I instantly went into panic mode, triggered both by the alarms on our phones and the sounds outside.
My dad was also trying to get through to us, calling to make sure we were safe.
We went straight down to reception. It was there that you could see the fear on people’s faces. The calm from earlier in the evening had vanished.
I didn’t even realise my body could shake that much. It must have been pure adrenaline.
It was difficult to get clear answers that first night because everything was escalating in real time.
But to be fair to the staff, they carried on as normally as they could and did their best to reassure people.
The captain told us he was trying to get more information and that they would do everything in their power to keep passengers safe.
I think we eventually tried to go back to bed around 3am, but sleep was impossible. Fighter jets continued to fly overhead and the sounds of explosions echoed from the city.
My dad, who was back in Cork, stayed awake the entire night watching the news and keeping in contact with us. He was the one explaining what was actually happening.
The bangs we had heard from the city, he told us, were debris from drones that had hit the Burj Al Arab and the Palm Jumeirah, which had been intercepted by the military.
Seeing images on social media of those buildings on fire was horrifying. Trying to take everything in while also figuring out what information was reliable was difficult.
As I write this now, I feel a deep sense of gratitude towards the Dubai military. Seeing what they protected the city from that night still leaves me struggling to fully comprehend it.
After a night without sleep, simply waiting for daylight to arrive, my mum and I eventually went down for breakfast. It was hard to eat anything because we were still so on edge.
We went back to the cabin to try to get some sleep. I remember standing on the balcony before going back to bed, looking out at the skyline.
I’m not sure what we were looking for exactly – maybe just trying to assess the situation for ourselves, even though we knew it was out of our control.
Later that morning, something suddenly woke me. I got up and looked out the window and saw a large plume of smoke rising from the skyline.
I woke my mum and we decided to go back down to reception to see if anyone had any answers. But again, there weren’t many. Everything was still a waiting game.
Plumes of smoke from fires fill the Dubai skyline
Social media was claiming the airport had been hit. Later we discovered it had once again been debris from intercepted drones.
Throughout all of it, my dad continued to reassure us that the Dubai military was intercepting much of what was being launched.
But when you’re living through something like that in real time, especially when you’re on a cruise ship with thousands of tourists, it’s hard not to feel vulnerable.
We couldn’t help wondering if we were safer staying on the ship or if we should leave and try to find a hotel in the city. In hindsight, I’m glad we stayed where we were.
I think back to the passengers who had just finished their cruise and disembarked as we were boarding, heading straight for the airport.
They likely experienced the impact of the intercepted drone. While we heard things from the ship, thankfully we were never directly hit by anything.
The following day, we asked to move to a cabin on the other side of the ship, facing the sea rather than the city. That alone brought an instant sense of relief.
People were trying to stay positive and simply trust that the military was protecting the city.
The captain continued to communicate with passengers. Each evening he confidently spoke over the intercom in multiple languages to reassure us that the ship remained in constant contact with the authorities and the port was being closely monitored.
He made it clear that if there was ever any immediate danger, passengers would be evacuated.
We also received written updates delivered to our cabin every day from MSC.
Even on the first few days, when there wasn’t much new information to share, they still kept in contact and explained what steps they were taking. That meant a lot.
The MSC Euribia stranded
When you consider that the ship had thousands of passengers with 66 different nationalities on board, the effort involved was enormous.
The written communications were personalised in different languages. It gave a real sense that even during a frightening and uncertain situation, we were being kept informed.
Unfortunately, I wish I could say the same about the Department of Foreign Affairs and the Irish Embassy.
We felt completely let down. The only updates we saw from them were on social media and in media interviews.
We registered with the Irish embassy, as advised online, and when we didn’t receive confirmation, we registered again.
Eventually I received a generic confirmation email, but there were no direct updates after that.
We expected some form of daily update for those who had registered, even just a general email offering reassurance and basic information.
Instead we had to rely on family members back home watching the news or trying to piece together updates from social media which, as anyone knows, can be full of misinformation and sensationalised posts.
It also raises another issue, what about people who don’t use social media or aren’t internet savvy?
This approach wasn’t inclusive. I fully understand this was a crisis situation but surely a crisis communication strategy should include direct communication with the more than 25,000 Irish citizens who registered. Where was that communication?
How was it possible to give media interviews and maintain social media posts, yet not send a simple generic daily update email to those who had registered?
I’m sure the Department of Foreign Affairs has a system that allows for mass emails. After all, companies send updates like this to thousands of people every day.
I’ve worked in PR and communications for years and have often put together urgent newsletters within hours that go to a generic database, so I don’t understand how they couldn’t do that.
Even the phone numbers shared online were often unreachable. Several people commented about this under embassy social media posts, saying the calls simply cut off after the welcome message.
If you assign people to manage social media, responding to those concerns should be part of the job.
Interestingly, after I did an interview with RTÉ Radio 1, I received a call from the embassy within about half an hour.
The guy I spoke to was really helpful and was able to give more insight than what we had been seeing on the news.
He even followed up the next day to check in and see if I was okay, which I really appreciated.
But from the bad, to the good. I cannot thank MSC Cruises enough for how it handled the situation.
Although the ship never actually sailed, life on board continued as normally as possible. Passengers were fully refunded for the cruise, yet everything continued.
The restaurants remained open, bars were operating, entertainment shows went ahead every night.
Even during moments when alarms sounded, the singer would keep singing, the pianist kept playing and staff would continue asking guests if they would like refreshments.
The chefs kept the kitchens running, sometimes until 2am. I can only imagine how frightened they must have been themselves, yet they carried on with professionalism and calm.
The ship itself was immaculate. Cleaning staff were constantly polishing corridors and maintaining public areas.
After a few days on board, naturally we got to know some of them, and although they admitted they were nervous too, they never showed it.
Many of them had families who were also worried, yet they continued doing their job. They deserve so much credit.
Passengers could also use the pool decks though we would obviously go back inside when we heard fighter jets overhead.
It’s a strange feeling, you almost freeze when you hear them. Inside the ship there was plenty to do. There’s a gym, lounges, shops and plenty of places to relax.
For me, the reception area became a kind of safety blanket. Even from that first night, when everyone gathered there, the calm professionalism of the staff was reassuring.
Another place that strangely felt comforting was the buffet. There’s something about a busy restaurant that makes things feel normal, even when the outside world isn’t.
There were moments when things did feel normal but that would quickly disappear when fighter jets or explosions could be heard again.
However, the regular communication from the captain and crew helped steady people.
Megan and her mum on board trying to retain a sense of normality
We weren’t at all trapped on the ship. For the first couple of days, passengers could go out into the port terminal. Later though, it wasn’t recommended.
People were allowed to travel into the city if they wished but we never did.
We were very aware that the ship was a controlled and monitored environment, and that things could change quickly. It’s not something we took for granted.
By the fourth and fifth day, however, anxiety was definitely building. Every day felt different depending on whether missile alerts were being reported in the region.
Thursday began badly when we received confirmation that our Emirates flight home had been cancelled – we received both an email and text message.
We tried calling multiple numbers, but couldn’t get through due to the huge call volumes. Later that day we received confirmation of a new Emirates flight home on Saturday.
The relief was huge, and my dad, family and friends back home were over the moon. We were too.
Of course the joy was short–lived when government alerts went off again warning of missiles in the area, and once more we headed to our now familiar safety point, the reception area of the ship.
Again, the staff remained calm and the singer kept singing.
I’m very aware of how lucky I am to have been born in a part of the world that doesn’t experience this kind of thing on a regular basis.
I think of the innocent children, women and men whose lives are turned upside down by events like this daily.
What we experienced was frightening – the most frightening week of my life. But I also have immense gratitude for the Dubai military and authorities who protected the city, and to MSC Cruises and its staff, who kept thousands of passengers safe and calm during an incredibly uncertain time.
