The Honeymoon

Proud of myself for not tripping down the aisle or having a hand flapping panic attack at the reception, I could not be more excited for the honeymoon. Husband and I arrive at Logan at about 5 am and are giddy with excitement. Those who know him probably cannot picture him "giddy" but if you pay attention you can catch Kevin (his dimple) appear more often than usual. We (I) am telling everyone within earshot that we are on our honeymoon as though this will ensure us a free flight or extra pretzels. The flights go off without a hitch and we arrive at our destination early afternoon. We have received a "deal" on the place we are staying at from FIL's "friend" (drinking/golfing buddy). We had a bit of a scare months prior when we heard from some locals the property was under construction however we were assured our unit would be fine. Meet FIL's friend (read smarmy) who shows us to our room. The view (looking out to the water in both the living room and bedroom) is breath taking. We ditch our luggage and head to the Sunset Bar around the corner. Upon arriving back at our room we decide to bring a couple glasses of wine and go sit outside on our veranda to enjoy the view. For a split moment I think about changing into some first-night-of-honeymoon-worthy attire but decide against it (this will prove to be an important decision later). I stick with my bra and shorts (not even cute short shorts, bermuda knee-length shorts as I have a deep belief in wearing short shorts after a certain age). I simultaneously push down and up a button on the latch to slide the door open and place the wine out on the table. Husband follows with two glasses and after placing them on the table, turns and shuts the slider behind us. While this is happening all sound turns off in my head and time slows. Similar to the scene in Boyz in the Hood when the good brother gets shot in the drive by and the bad brother (Ice Cube)  runs in slow motion towards him yelling "nooooo" except there are no guns involved and I am yelling "dontlockusout" but really quickly before the door closes. We are locked out on the veranda. We are locked out on the veranda with the dead bolt on the front door because we planned to be in for the night. We are locked out on the veranda with the dead bolt on the front door because we planned to be in for the night and know there is just ONE person (smarmy friend) who has the key to that dead bolt. Husband puts one leg over the rail as I start a frenzied "don't-leave-me-alone-what-if-you-break-your-neck" dance (there are no high kicks and jazz hands involved but rather bouncing and hand clapping with slight whining sounds). He scales his way across to our neighbor's porch, then over to another porch until he is out of site and I am convinced he has dropped the two stories and cracked his head open. I hear a faint shout of victory from the darkness and sit down to sip my wine, pretending to be a normal bride on her honeymoon. An hour later husband reappears below and informs me that Slimy is currently at a movie so it may be another hour but the rest of the staff is working on it. I smile courageously and say "no worries" as I slap another mosquito away (which I am sure at that moment has given me the Caribbean version of the Bubonic plague). An hour goes by, I have drunk both my and husband's glass of wine when he pops his head eye level to me from our neighbor's porch. The staff has broken in to our neighbor's room and all are popping their heads over to see how I'm doing in my purple bra. Suddenly a tiny man hops onto my veranda claiming to be the hotel locksmith, asks which one is the slider to our bedroom and pops the lock. I race into my bedroom after him, throw on a tank top and casually stroll into our living room to greet my husband who has just been let in by the locksmith from the front door. Luckily we still have half a bottle of wine left. We do not know the next few days will bring us a flooded bathroom, no hot water in the shower for the rest of our stay, and a nightclub next door so loud I still chant "I like to move it, move it" in my sleep. We just park ourselves in the living room in front of the television, only going out to the veranda if a chair is wedged in the doorway.