The Amazing (honeymoon) Race

So, OK

One piece of advice about honeymoons – if you’re not spending the whole holiday on a tropical island, rotating between swimming, sleeping, drinking, makin’ luuuuuurve, swimming, napping periodically beside the pool, getting unintentionally tanned – try to spend the last couple of days doing this SOMEWHERE on the planet.

Otherwise you’ll have the honeymoon we had.

You know how to get to Kokomo, right? Get there fast and take it slow?

The Mister and I did the opposite when we headed to the US a couple of days after the wedding.

It took around 24 hours (at least) to get from Perth, Sydney, LA to New York. And we pretty much hit the ground running from there.

Despite what everyone tells you, no one actually cares you’re on a honeymoon. No one. We didn’t get the free champers in our room, or a room upgrade. I tried not to take it personally. I mean, times are tough, right? However the front desk guy at The Aria in Las Vegas did sent some chocolate-coated strawbs up to our room, but that’s as far as the gesture went. Seriously, we got nothing extra. And we’re really nice people.

In fact, when The Mister booked our room at The Liasion hotel in Washington DC, he mentioned that we’d be on our honeymoon… so you can imagine how much laughter spilled out of me when we came face-to-face with the separate beds in our room. I wish I was kidding.

One afternoon, we headed down to the jacuzzi in Las Vegas, which I don’t like spa baths very much, but there was an adequate amount of chlorine coming out from these ones, and they were very, very new. Now, considering we were in Vegas in the low-season, we understood that the pool area wasn’t pumping at full capacity… but we were kicked out after 10 minutes. They were closing the pool area. Say what? In Vegas?

I wondered if the only place that I really got some special time with The Mister was squashed up against him on the New York subway… not to mention another couple, an old lady and a meth addict.

I did start to feel like a douchebag, constantly saying we were on our honeymoon, one guy at customs in LA was like, ‘so do you guys have kids?’, we said no. He said ‘well, I bet you’ll be working on that then…’


However, the only time that being a couple truly worked in our favour was finding a table at a restaurant without a booking. As we were over in the States during Thanksgiving, there were big groups trying to get into places at the last minute. And there we were, smiling goofily at the hostess, gently cooing that it was just us, table for two. Easy. We got into every place we wanted just because we could be sorted out straight away.

I wrote awhile ago that The Mister and I agreed that we couldn’t go on The Amazing Race together. He would go with his mum and I just wouldn’t go on it. The main reason is that, given enough time living in each other’s pockets, we would literally murder each other.
Travel spats? Yes, we had them. I just about had a meltdown in MoMA as I was just SO TIRED and all I wanted was a cup of tea and a lie down. But we pressed on, and I thought I was going to cry in one of the most beautiful galleries in the world because I felt like I HAD to go with him, which just made any tense words worse. There were a few moments where I thought ‘is isn’t meant to be like this’.
I think it’s alright to have these moments – as long as they only stay moments and not, well, weeks.
However, we had some times that I thought ‘I never want to go home, I want to stay right here, with him, forever’.
I had the most painful blisters from all the walking we did, he strapped up my foot every single morning until it healed.
He would always order me a cream cheese bagel and a Venti latte from Starbucks down the road while I slept in for an extra 20 minutes.
I let him take the window seat in the plane although he’s one of those people that has to get up ALL THE TIME and we had an, oh I dunno, a 14 hour flight ahead of us.
When I asked if I could have a 2012 Election Barbie doll, he said OK.
When, at night, I suddenly said ‘I don’t feel safe here’, he hailed a cab to get us back to our hotel.
When I was scared out of my mind in the car he hired to drive to the Hoover Dam, I would breathe heavily, put a panicked smile on my face and say how well he was doing.
Our honeymoon wasn’t perfect, I’m glad we had our spats (the times where we laughed our heads off were never far away). But there were a few little things that I learnt about The Mister that I didn’t know before…
  • He takes an EXTRAORDINARY amount of time to find the exact change for the cashier
  • He mumbles, then blames me for not listening
  • He puts his blokey voice on for other men when he doesn’t usually speak to me with the full extent of his testosterone
  • He is RELENTLESS in trying to get me to play sport with him (I told him I didn’t want a baseball mitt, he bought me one anyway)
  • His need for all things orange-coloured is bigger than I ever realised.
  • He will always, always hold the door for me
  • We both give excellent, well-thought-out voices to inanimate objects
  • We have both developed a dislike of bars that serve drinks on napkins, not coasters. There’s nothing quite like lifting your Mai Tai for a sip and unravelling a piece of wet, thin napkin that clings to dear life at the base of your glass.
  • His knowledge of movies and politics makes me outrageously attracted to him.
  • He surprised me by suggesting we just go to the Walmart Superstore in Las Vegas than see the Grand Canyon. I think I fell in love with him more.
  • He enjoys tipping as the ultimate power, a form of saying ‘I like you’ or ‘I don’t like you’.
  • He is a genius at understanding the NYC subway system.

These are the little things that dovetail the crap stuff. In turn, it kind of works out.

….But a couple of days in Hawaii would have been nice too.


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