Our
honeymoon started on June 21, 1947, at the Drake Hotel in Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania. I woke up in the middle of the night to a hard push and wound up
on the floor. I remember thinking, is there an unspoken message here?
The next morning Sandy and I boarded a train to Miami
Beach, Florida. When the conductor asked for our tickets, I handed him our
marriage license by mistake. He looked me and said, “This is good for a lot of
rides, but not on this train. You’ll have to produce a ticket.”
Later that morning, after ordering pancakes in the dining
car, a woman across the table asked why I was pouring coffee on my pancakes.
“It isn’t coffee; it’s syrup,” I replied. “They probably heat it up to make it
pour easier.” Well, I was wrong and she was right. It was coffee.
When we pulled into Fort Lauderdale and went to our
hotel, another surprise awaited—twin-size beds. I immediately called the desk
and told the clerk I was on my honeymoon and definitely had ordered a double
bed. The clerk told me that they didn’t have a double bed but that I could push
together the two singles. I raised my voice and said, “I want what I ordered.”
A double bed was delivered—at 6:30 the next morning.
Things were definitely starting to add up, and after I
mistakenly used Vaseline instead of underarm deodorant, my lovely new bride
expressed a look of concern about our lifelong commitment.
Sure enough, when we returned to Philadelphia, I sprained
my back carrying her across the threshold of our new home and spent two weeks
in bed.
That was 68 years ago, and I don’t put coffee on my
pancakes or Vaseline under my arms anymore. But after reviewing what I wrote
here, a second honeymoon would be most welcome.
Source: Reader's Digest
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