The honeymoon is over...thank goodness.

Getting married was one of the best choices I have ever made. I loved Gary as I do now but I must admit our honeymoon was a disaster. Now get your mind out of the gutter. I am not referring to that. That has never been disastrous. This will be a slightly long read, but worth every minute of it. I have put *'s in place of my last name at some futile attempt to keep some part of my identity to myself on-line.

Just after our reception in Rexburg, we traveled to Idaho Falls to stay in the honeymoon sweet at what was then, the Ameritel. It had a jacuzzi in our room and was very cool. Upon arrival, I was terribly sick from the long day and had to rest for a 1/2 hour. Poor Gary was so patient. Okay, so they happened to be out of the complimentary baskets they were supposed to leave but hey, a small disappointment. They did leave some bubble bath and sparking cider (ohhhhhh how romantic). We we couldn't get the stupid cap off the cider and accidentally broke the top of the bottle. I got glass in my foot that didn't come out for over a year.

The next day we went to stay at my sisters apartment in Salt Lake City while she stayed with a friend. Did I mention we were DIRT POOR. We were in love and didn't really care where we stayed as long as we were together. Upon arrival we notice a man relieving himself in the front yard across the street. I had only been married one day and was not quite used to seeing, well, you get the idea. Anyway, the next morning the swat team arrives and takes down the house across the street. Somewhat entertaining to watch although we did stay low in the windows and probably should have moved away completely so we didn't get shot. Young, in love and foolish, what can I say?

For dinner we went to the old Salt Lake City Jailhouse to eat. It was really cool and expensive, and a piece of history. There was this old sheriff who would wander around the room and serenade people. When he got to our table he stopped and sang 3 songs. Each one was about how he had fallen in love with a beautiful woman who took his money and his dog and caught the first train out of town. By the end of the third we are just thinking, "Can you just leave us alone before we hate each other?".

On to the big metropolis of Delta, Utah. The next few days were spent at my grandparents house (they were still staying with my mom). Really, what does it matter where you stay? I mean after all we were just honeymooning anyway. First of all, my grandpa tells us about a path we can take his four-wheeler on to go out to some sweet trails. Of coarse he insists on his directions, even though they were WRONG! So we drive for several miles on the bumpiest dirt road I have ever seen only to have the bar on the trailer BREAK OFF and send the entire trailer and four-wheeler FLYING. We sort of got it back together but the trailer was broken right next to the hitch so Gary had to keep one leg on the truck and one on the trailer, and hold it on while I drove on this terribly bumpy road. If I went too slow he couldn't pull the trailer over the bump so I HAD to go fast. One wrong bump and I would have run over Gary. Gary held on and I didn't run him over. No, we found a different way to end up in the E.R.

After a hard day's work of hauling a stupid trailer and four-wheeler from the middle of the desert we were hungry. Not in the mood for a nice restaurant we grabbed some food from McDonald's (at the time a recent addition to the booming metropolis) and headed back to the grandparents. Now in the desert, you can get thirsty. I mean REALLY thirsty. Especially exerting a lot of physical energy. That is to say, we took the four-wheeler out to the dirt bike path behind my grandparents house. Sheesh people! Get your mind out of the gutter already. This is just where we should have ridden to begin with. Anyway, Gary comes in the house and reaches in the fridge to get a cold drink of water. He, being the gentleman that he is, drinks directly from the jug. Yes, in my grandparents house. Nice.

Immediately he begins to foam at the mouth and is spitting in the sink yelling,"What is in this thing?" Gary then proceeds to vomit up foam profusely. I vaguely remember my grandpa mentioning something about hydrogen peroxide in the fridge. So I call 911.
Operator: 911 whats your emergency?

Me: My fian.... I mean my husband drank hydrogen peroxide and is throwing up foam!

What is your name?

Amidey Hhhhhhhhh A*******.

What?

Well, it was Hersh and now it's A*******. I am on my honey moon.

Congratulations.

Thank you. Um I think he's dying and I am not ready to be a widow so could you help me?

Why did he drink Hydrogen peroxide?

Such a good question. I then proceed to tell her that my grandpa takes two drops in a glass full of water for his back.

What percentage is it?

I don't know. He wrote it on the bottle but his hands are shaky and now the ink is all smeared all over our hands.

You will need to call him and find out.

So now I proceed to call home (ug! Calling home on my honeymoon) to ask him what percent the hydrogen peroxide is. Mind you they have a pulse phone so for every number I push I have to wait for that many clicks. Click, click click click click click click click click, click, click etc.

Mom, Hi. Gary drank that hydrogen peroxide in grandpa's fridge can you find out what percentage it is?

Mom: Why did he do that?

Mom, please just ask. He's sort of dying here.

Dad? Gary drank that hydrogen peroxide in your fridge do you know what percentage it was?

Grandpa: Why did he do that?

I don't know but what percentage is it?

36% (normal household use is 3%)

So I call back 911 who makes me call poison control (that's a 1-800 number. click click click), who congratulates me on my new marriage and then makes me call back 911 (click click click)

During all of this my sister calls at one point to check up on the happy couple.
Kacie? Can I call you back? The ambulance is on it's way and I need to check on Gary.

I will not give you the meaningless details like the ambulance driver being a Harley chick or the very SLOW cop who lead me in my car to the hospital.

Well Gary didn't die, just fried his insides. And do you know what saved his life? The fact that he ate like a horse before he drank it and the food absorbed most of it.

The rest of the honeymoon was pretty uneventful. Grandma's friend called us every 15 minutes starting at 6 am to tell us of various activities in the area, like driving two hours to see the pig farm. It's an oil road all the way you know. She later died of Alzheimer's. Then there was the power outages which shouldn't matter too much on your honeymoon unless your husband fried his insides.

We stayed the last night in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. That was wonderful other than we almost didn't get home because the pass was snowed in. Mind you we were married June 2 and this was a week later. I have always wanted to write into some talk show and see if I could score a free second honeymoon but then you hear of people who had honeymoons during hurricanes and tsunamis and I realize I should be grateful. Maybe this is why we have always been such homebodies.