HONOLULU—My roommates woke up, one by one, at sunrise last week, zipping open their suitcases and sleepily walking to the bathroom. I had already made the trek.
It was like being back in college, except this shiny new dorm was in an office building a block from Waikiki Beach. None of us was a student.
We were all staying in the cheapest pods at First Cabin International Hawaii, the first U.S. outpost of the popular Japanese capsule-hotel chain . It opened a year ago with 103 pods.
These are tiny, no-frills cubes stacked one atop another in a row. The pods have room for a bed. not much else, and superlow headroom.
I checked in for two nights to size up this budget option in a destination where the average daily hotel-room rate topped $280 in 2025, according to CoStar.
The price was more than right: $60 a night for a single-occupancy, premium-economy pod, the smallest. And it was $150 for a first-class cabin, which can accommodate two. There’s also an in-between option called business class. The chain says the capsules were inspired by airline cabins.
Tropical setting aside, I dreaded the stay just like I did my previous glamping adventure at Nascar and shared Airbnb in New York. Something about shared bathrooms, showers and bunk mates screams college and hostel life. Those days are happily behind me.
The worry was for naught. The place was clean, other guests were quiet and (mostly) respectful. The lounge had ocean views, and the location was perfect.
Checking in
Each pod comes with two towels, slippers and a toothbrush and toothpaste. Dawn Gilbertson/WSJ
First Cabin is on the 14th floor of the Waikiki Business Plaza, itself wedged between H&M and Lululemon on Honolulu’s main drag, Kalakaua Avenue. It runs parallel to Waikiki Beach.
Guests punch a code into a keypad to gain entrance to First Cabin. A custom code assigned at the front desk gets you into your pod wing, and from there to the bathroom and showers. The building is closed from midnight to 6 a.m. Guests need to prearrange entrances or exits, or buzz an intercom during those hours.
Early check-in is an extra $17 per hour. I happily paid $34 after a 6 ½-hour, early morning flight to Honolulu.
When I sent a picture of the economy-pod setup, more than a few friends said it looked like a dog kennel. It isn’t for the claustrophobic or privacy conscious, that’s for sure. You know the basement cube where Penn Badgley’s character holds his victims in the Netflix thriller “You”? It’s a little like that but smaller and with no food-delivery window. (But it’s also not see through!)
I crawled inside W01B, a lower bunk in an all-female wing. Yes, crawled. People on the upper bunks have to climb a few steps to crawl into their pod.
A wing of premium economy pods. Dawn Gilbertson/WSJ
You can’t stand up in the economy pods. They measure just 27 square feet. The ceiling height is about 4 feet. When I sat up, there was only the length of my iPhone 17 Pro Max between my head and the ceiling. I hit my lower back getting out the first couple of times.
There was more room for my backpack and other personal items than I expected but I struggled to change clothes in there. My suitcase was stored in an open cubby between pods, but complimentary lockers are also available.
The mattress was stiff but the sheets and comforter were fine. The hotel supplies a bath towel, hand towel, flimsy slippers and a disposable toothbrush and toothpaste. There are laminated instructions in each room, including a reminder about no food or drink in the pods. (There’s a group refrigerator in the lounge.)
Then there was this rule: Don’t leave underwear and other personal items on the bed if you want your pod cleaned!
There’s a light, power outlets including a USB-C port, a small mirror and a TV that swivels. You had to watch with headphones.
The unit doesn’t have a door but a magnetized accordion-like curtain. Light seeps in from the bottom. I didn’t get the best sleep of my life, but I’m a light sleeper anywhere.
Travelers have to climb a couple of steps to crawl into the upper-level pods. Dawn Gilbertson/WSJ
The shared women’s bathroom has stations for guests getting ready. Dawn Gilbertson/WSJ
The only noise overnight was the opening and closing of the curtains and shuffle of flip flops for bathroom runs. Early in the morning, I heard a couple of iPhone alarms going off. The New York woman in the pod above me had to be up at 3 a.m. for work given the time difference.
There are six bathrooms and separate shower stalls in the women’s room. The bath towel was skimpy but the counters for drying your hair and getting ready were a nice touch.
The hotel provides a stool, hair dryer and curling iron at each station. I only came across a few stray hairs and watched one guest floss on my brief stay. But hands down, I prefer my one bathroom in a hotel, wonky showers , dim lighting and all .
First-class upgrade
My second night was more luxurious. But make no mistake, this wasn’t a luxury stay.
I could easily stand up in the first-class pod, with ceiling height about 7 feet and total space about 47 square feet. The TV and mirror were bigger and there was a small table. I was surprised to find a private lounge with the same ocean views you can find in the general lounge.
One of four first-class pods, in which you can stand up, unlike the premium economy pods. Dawn Gilbertson/WSJ
But I still had to traipse to the group bathrooms and showers and couldn’t eat or drink there.
The mattress is larger and thicker but no more comfortable than the ones in the economy pod. I slept just OK, again.
But the bill for two nights was less than the price of one night at hotels up and down Waikiki Beach last week. And there was no pesky resort fee.
Tangie Francis booked 10 pods ahead of a group cruise out of Honolulu last week. The Maryland woman came across First Cabin on Expedia and paid $66 per economy pod. She loved everything about her one-night stay.
Her 68-year-old aunt, Kathy Barksdale, not so much. “This is for the birds,” Barksdale chimed in. “The young birds.”
Write to Dawn Gilbertson at dawn.gilbertson@wsj.com
