Townsman, 1991-02, Page 16hall, cleaning up after the reception
guests have gone home?
At 3 a.m. we finally departed to
begin our wedding night. Arriving
at our destination we were greeted
by an extremely intoxicated gentle-
man who informed us he was the
mayor of the city and would like a
ride home. After a few polite
attempts to explain we were not
leaving the parking lot, my groom
suggested a place he could get to on
his own. (This became really
humorous when upon our return
home a picture in a local newspaper
identified the man as the mayor.)
But, 1 digress so I will now
resume with my tale of Honeymoon
to Hell. Our travels the first day
were fairly uneventful until we
decided we had gone 90 miles the
wrong way. After turning back. it
took some time before it became
clear neither of us read a map well
and we had been right the first
time.
A tornado followed our path until
we crossed the Kentucky border
and rented a room at a quaint motel.
Nestled in amongst rolling hills, it
offered the seclusion and romantic
backdrop we had been searching
for. Thoughts of relaxing with a nice
cool drink seemed perfect, when
heaven forbid, we discovered we
were in a dry county. There was
only one option open, as we drove
further into Kentucky then smug-
gled back our little bit of contra-
band.
The frivilous purchase left us with
few American dollars and of course
plastic to carry us over. Neither
Canadian money nor Visa were
acceptable at the restaurant where
we had enjoyed breakfast, though,
so leaving me as collateral, my
hubby set out to the nearest bank.
As time passed by apprehension
grew. but after just two hours my
hero returned to say the banks
didn't want Canadian money either.
Fruitless haggling until the motel
where we had stayed agreed to pay
our food bill and put it on VISA.
What masochism drove us on?
Why not return home to our usual
boring existence? My only answer is
that we were on our honeymoon.
and we were going to see it through
if it meant divorce.
So obsessed. or possessed. we
continued our depressing odyssey
into the Blue Grass state. Upon
14 TOWNSMAN/FEBRUARY-MARCH
reaching Lexington, we decided to
find a room, then after hours of
searching agreed it would probably
be nicer in Louisville anyway. There
I spent another two hours watching
my husband tour the junk yards for
automobile parts. A classic car
enthusiast, he had heard of the
treasures that could be found in the
resting places for old relics (with
wheels) across the border. The final
blow was dealt when we learned
there were no rooms in Louisville
either. We hadn't realized it was
derby in Kentucky. Never one to
beat a dead horse, my groom
promptly turned the car and drove
as far in the other direction as
possible.
When we arrived home we were
met with the usual warm welcomes
and ribald humour. They in turn
met glacial stares and stoney
silence.
What I have found interesting is
ours was not a singular experience.
We were not victims of someone's
intricate practical joke. Take the
couple who spent the night in the
corn field because their reservations
were lost. Their second evening was
in the airport when the plane was
delayed. Another couple spent their
wedding night on the Legion floor
with all their guests because of a
winter storm.
Like our honeymoon, it's impor-
tant for newlyweds to see that times
will be occasionally surprising,
occasionally difficult, occasionally a
trial. On the other hand, that's
never dull. Everything a couple
accomplishes can be done together
with love, care and sometimes
tremendous effort and most of us
wouldn't want to miss one crazy
minute of it.
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Howto be a Local Hero
Look. You don't have to look very far to find lots of
ways to help make your community a better place to live.
Look for causes that really interest
you and organizations that can use
your special abilities. But don't just
look. Be a Local Hero.
\ national progrant to encourage
mg and \ oluntccring.
1991
A new spirit of giving 1