Like South Africa south. (In my mind, that is said in Morgan Freeman's voice.)
|I couldn't resist. Google Morgan Freeman pictures. It will make your day, swear.|
Part I: Lost in Translation
Goose and I undertook honeymoon-destination location discussions for a while, mainly because I'm OCD and risk-averse, and he's a list-maker and travel snob. Eventually, we narrowed it down to two choices: Thailand v. South Africa.
|Don't worry, that girl lived. I probably would not have.|
At the start of planning, I requested we take a honeymoon that required little effort. I spent the last 18 months planning (with admittedly fantastic help) a destination wedding for north of 350 people, herding 20+ non-Houston, non-New Orleans vendors, taking over the care (and ultimately, estate) of a very sick mother and moving a Goose&Co. into my apartment, all while attempting to practice law without a bag over my head. When I say "little effort," I envisioned going somewhere with french fries, sitting, staring at the sky, eating hamburgers, sitting, and quietly and contentedly processing all of my risk-averse methods of escaping sure death.
Somewhere along the way, that got a tad lost in translation.
I said: "Goose, let's go somewhere easy."
Goose heard: "Goose, let's go somewhere where we have to take nine planes, three boats, a car, a van and a bus to traverse three countries and eight stops, none alike in climate, clothing or dignity. Oh, and make sure they serve french fries."
And so, this is how our honeymoon story begins. First up: Capetown by way of New Orleans, Houston, New York and London. Oh, it will be stellar. And probably a tad bit glittery.