Remember when.....

A few months before we were married, we got around to discussing where we wanted to honeymoon. We both love the beach, so a tropical place was high up on our list.

We finally decided on Cancun. And because I was planning the majority of the wedding, Ricardo agreed to plan the honeymoon trip.

Weeks went by, and nothing was being done in the Cancun planning department. I finally took it over, did my research and booked the flights and hotel, and he admitted in relief that he was no good at that kind of stuff. So much for trying to get him involved.

So we packed, flew to Indy, and got married.

Our flight to Cancun left early the next morning, so we got a hotel close to the airport. We were up bright and early, excited to be on our way to more exotic environs, and even more thrilled to be married.

We reached the airport in plenty of time, and went up to the counter to check in. Suitcase. E-ticket. Passport. Check, check, and check. I was ready to go.

It was Ricardo's turn. He stepped right up. Suitcase. E-ticket.

And drivers license.

Here is where my world came to a screeching halt.

Ok, people. We are going to Mexico, right? Foreign country? And we knew this in advance, obviously. I distinctly remember a conversation I had with Ricardo before we left New Mexico. It went something like this:

"Don't forget your passport."

"I don't need it. I just went to Juarez, and they didn't ask for it when I drove across the border. It's just Mexico, they don't care who goes in, they only care who comes out." (which, in hindsight makes no sense, because we were, in fact, planning on returning to the US. So....?????)

Ok, suit yourself. I felt he knew more about these things than I did, so I let it go.

Oh, how I wish I hadn't let it go.

He presented his drivers license, and the sweet young guy behind the counter said, "Sorry, sir. I'm going to need to see your passport."

That was not a good moment in the life of this newlywed. I am usually fairly reserved and non-confrontational, but folks, my honeymoon was on the line here. I told the dude, Look. We are on our honeymoon. We don't live here, we live in New Mexico. There is no way we can go get it. What can we do?

He shrugged, sympathetic but resolute. Nothing.

I turned on the waterworks. Well, actually, they sort of turned on involuntarily. I begged, pleaded, asked if we could get one of our friends to fax over a copy of the darn thing, then asked if we could get a refund for our tickets if we couldn't go.

No, and no. But they would change our tickets to the following day if we wanted.

We finally turned away in defeat. Then Ricardo told me the only thing to do was for him to try to get a ticket back to NM, grab the passport, and get back to Indy before the plane to Cancun took off the next day.

It was like a nightmare. I never pictured starting off our blissful life together like this! So I did what any rational, calm-thinking woman would do...I told him I wanted to go with him back to NM. And he very gently told me no, that would be a not-so-wise thing to do, and that I would have to go on ahead to Cancun without him.

So for the next half-hour or so, we raced around from ticket counter to ticket counter, trying to find a ticket that would get him there and back in the time frame that we had to work with. My plane was boarding, and I finally had to leave before he had found one. I kissed my brand new hubby goodbye and left on my honeymoon by myself.

On the way to Cancun, the guy sitting next to me asked where I was going. I said Cancun, and his eyebrows raised a bit....I'm sure he wondered why I was by myself. He asked what for, and I giggled a bit and said, "I'm on my honeymoon!" The eyebrows went through the roof at the point.

We landed, and after a 3-hour wait in customs, I grabbed my luggage and found a taxi to the hotel. It was dark by this time, and I was too scared to go out and do anything by myself, so I took a very brief walk on the beach and then settled into the room and ordered room service. $13 for a burger and fries. I am not sure why I remember that, but probably because it was such a big rip-off.

The next morning I awoke. I had no idea if Ricardo was coming that day, if he had been able to secure a ticket, but I was hoping against hope that he had. So I puttered around the room, waiting.

At 11:00, I heard his voice outside the door. I sprang up, delighted beyond words...I hadn't expected him to get there that early. He walked in, and my world righted itself.

He told me that right after I left, he was able to find a ticket. It was the only one left that worked with the time frame. It was a first-class ticket.

And it cost $1500.

Yes. You read that right. Fifteen hundred dollars.

But beggars cannot be choosers, so he took it, and made the flight to NM. He was in his car, waiting to exit the NM airport when he happened to open the glove compartment and shuffle through it.

And there was his passport. Apparently he had left it in there from that trip down to Juarez months earlier...you know, the one where they didn't ask to see it. That one.

So he turned his car around, ran back in, jumped on a plane, and flew back to Indy where he spent the night curled up in a bench at a closed Starbucks. Then he boarded another plane to Cancun, and made his way to our hotel where we were officially able to start our honeymoon.

It certainly wasn't the way I would have chosen for it to all unfold. I would have preferred to have my man beside me the whole way, but we survived. Our marriage obviously has survived.

And now? It makes a pretty good story, so I'm not complaining.