Ah, my honeymoon. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Nah, just kidding about the “worst” part, although there were a few bumps along the way. 

The honeymoon started with a late afternoon flight on one of those newly fancy 747’s to San Francisco. This was the first leg of our Hawaii honeymoon destination. Since I had imbibed a bit at the wedding reception I thought I deserved a nice nap as soon as I boarded the jet. A stewardess (that’s what flight attendants were called back then) awakened me for the evening meal. Then, after the dinner service was over my bride and I were invited to follow a stewardess up the winding staircase to the upper deck or loft section of the aircraft where we were greeted by crew members and treated to a congratulatory cake and champagne toast. This surprise was arranged by Mr. Ash (the founder of my law firm employer) who had a special connection with American Airlines. We felt like royalty.

Since he was a seasoned traveler and was familiar with San Francisco, Mr. Ash strongly recommended that we stay at the Clift Hotel for the two nights we would be in the City by the Bay. The Clift Hotel was about as old as Mr. Ash and its other patrons in their 80’s. While it was acceptable enough for a limited stay we couldn’t help but sense the piercing and perhaps envious eyes of the elderly hotel guests as they watch the newlyweds walk across the lobby and enter the elevator.

I was exhausted from the day’s activities and refreshments and the cross country travel when we arrived at our suite that Saturday night, so it was only minutes before I fell asleep on the sofa after my bride decided that it would be a good evening to watch the televised Miss America contest. The long-anticipated conjugal act would have to occur later. Happily, though, later came early (and often) before the sun rose on Day 2 of our marriage.

In the middle of that Sunday afternoon we were awakened by a phone call from Mr. Burton who was one of my other lawyer bosses in the law firm. He was in San Francisco to meet with a client and Mr. Ash had told him that we could be reached at the Clift. He invited us to have dinner that evening with the client and him. While a nice gesture I thought the timing was strange. Why would anyone think that new lovers in their prime 20’s would want to spend an evening with a couple of nearly 60 year old white men? But since he was one of signers of my paychecks I responded in my most enthusiastic voice that we would love to join them. What was even weirder, though, is that after dinner the client suggested that we take a walk through the district adjacent to North Beach where there were nightclubs, including strip joints, and perhaps watch a show. On our honeymoon, mind you. At that point I loudly dissented and hailed a cab back to the old but safe habitat that was the Clift, expecting that my bride would be most impressed with my propriety and sensitivity.

On the morning of Day 3 we flew to Honolulu on the island of Oahu in Hawaii. We were adorned with the obligatory lei before touching down. I remember being enthralled with all of the seaside hotels and sights along Waikiki Beach. We attended and enjoyed a traditional luau at our hotel that evening. After a plentiful outdoor breakfast the next morning, during which we first tasted fresh delicious Hawaiian pineapple, we stayed on the beach to sunbathe and test the waters. Unfortunately we stayed too long. My bride got an awful sunburn. I mean she was baked, and thus much to my regret was untouchable for several days. On our honeymoon, mind you. I concluded that this unlucky break was probably covered by the “in sickness” part of the wedding vow. So during her recovery we resigned to the fact that the remainder of the Honolulu segment of our trip would be touring around the island in a rental car, taking in such sights as the huge Diamond Head crater and the U.S. Naval Base at Pearl Harbor.

Coincidentally enough, the original Heartbreak Kid movie premiered just three months after our honeymoon. The plot in that film involved a bride getting very sunburned on her honeymoon. While she was confined to the hotel room the groom became infatuated with a gorgeous blonde on the beach. That flick was not based on any true story.

On Day 6 we left Honolulu and flew to the island of Kauai, a very pretty and less populated area. We were able to spend time on the beach where our hotel was located without any adverse consequences and had our first serving of fresh mahi-mahi from the Pacific Ocean. We spent four delightful days on Kauai and we agreed it was our favorite of the three Hawaiian islands we visited. However, there was one awkward and embarrassing incident during our stay there. That transpired in the mid-afternoon of Sunday, Day 9, when a hotel cleaning maid entered our room without knocking and witnessed my bride and me in a, shall we say, compromising position. At first I thought it was unforgiveable on her part, but upon reflection I felt that maybe she did knock but we didn’t hear her due to the sex noises. I left her a nice tip anyway.

We jumped islands again on Day 10, arriving late morning in Kona on the big island of Hawaii. It came to past that the Washington Football Team, then known by a different moniker, was playing the Vikings on the Monday Night Football game that day. My dear wife immediately inquired of our hotel desk clerk where we might watch the game and he referred us to a little seaside Tiki Bar Hut. We found that establishment in time for the opening kickoff and that is how we spent our first afternoon on the big island. No hotel cleaning maid rudely interrupted that enjoyable experience.

As I recall the next day was a bad beach day so we drove through all day rain to Hilo, the other major city on the island of Hawaii. We primarily wanted to see the famous volcano there, but visibility was not good. We drove around the Hilo beaches and then headed back to Kona. Our hotel in Kona was the best of the three hotels we stayed at and it had an adjacent golf course. On the next day I expressed a wish to play golf and gratefully my cooperative wife agreed to be my cart driver. The oceanside scenery along the golf course was quite memorable, but not as much as the lava field where my slice often ventured. I learned that day that it is not a good idea to drive a golf cart on a lava field.

The next day was perfect for hanging around the beach. I can’t swim a lick, but I thought it would be cool if my wife took a picture of me that appeared to show me surfing a wave. So I walked into the ocean (the sea was angry that day) with water up to my waist and crouched down when a wave came towards me. It rose above my head and the snapshot was great. What a clever idea that was. If only, though, someone had explained to me that salt water corrodes hearing aids. I did have spare aids, but they were back in Maryland. I discussed this unforeseen turn of events with my bride and commented that maybe this was the Lord’s way of telling us it was time to go home. Plus, we would save a few bucks by cancelling Days 13 and 14. She was not happy with the situation and swore this would be the last honeymoon she would go on with me.

So our honeymoon ended on Day 12, but I’m happy to report that our marriage continued for another 15,392 Days.

By the way, Miss Wisconsin became Miss America on 9/9/72 and the football team with the offensive nickname was the victor (by a field goal) on 9/18/72.