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Saturday, 06/07/86

“You’re sure we don’t need passports?” Joe asked his wife of eight days and seven nights.

“Yes, Joe,” Misty replied with a sigh. “I’m sure. How many times have you been out of the USA?”


“Other than Canada?”

“Including today?”

“Sure, Joe. Including today.”

“Depends on where we are. If we’re over international waters then I’ve been out of the US four times and one of those was not Canada.”

“Let’s assume that we can’t see the Mississippi coast line beneath the clouds down there. How many countries, other than Canada have you set foot on?”


“One!? What country have you been to?”

“The United States of America, of course. You didn’t say foreign countries.”

“You know, Joe it’s a long way down. Thirty thousand feet or so. Don’t make me stop the plane.”

Misty and Joe’s first week of wedded bliss had been filled with low key exploration of greater Atlanta and now they were finally on their way to a week of all inclusive frolic on the white beaches near Ocho Rios, Jamaica. The arrangements for their Honeymoon trip had been attended to nearly half a year ago and the couple had selected a tourist destination that was sure to be warm and sunny. Tropical Storm Andrew had just finished rampaging over the island but the Kleens had been assured that everything was fine at their resort and not to worry. Being new to foreign travel Joe was having a little difficulty following the advice to just relax and have fun that the travel agent had given them.

“That would be a long fall, wouldn’t it? Over a minute if I did my math right. I thought you said you’d only been to England?”

“I said I studied in the UK. I went to England, Scotland and Ireland and I took a jaunt to France with Rose.”

“Wingate? The gal that was the head cook at that school in Lake Placid?”

“Yes, that Rose. That ski jump was scary wasn’t it?”

“Yeah! And we we’re just looking down it! Imagine flying off that thing. How was France? Would you like to go back?”

“The French were rude. Well, Parisians were rude at least. I’d love to go back to Ireland though. Lovely.”

“Uhm, Misty? Aren’t you half French?”

“Are you saying I’m rude?”

“Half right? Half rude? All wonderful. Did you learn any French before you went?”

“Bon jour, merci, rendezvous. And I can count to five.”

“So, that’s a definite no. My uncle Mike was with the State Department for about five years. He said knowing a few phrases is always smart. We’ll have to remember that if we travel.”

“Irie, mon,” Misty replied “That’s all the Jamaican we need according to the travel agent.”

“I don’t think this counts. I mean, having to learn a language. It sounds like we’ll be in our own little space at Sandals and
when we’re out and about we’ll have a guide or driver or whatever. Besides, don’t they speak English in Jamaica?”

“Mostly. That’s what they say but it’s some kind of Creole Patois like Cajuns.”


“Very! It’s nice that we’ll be there early enough to hit the beach. I miss going to Jones Beach with my dad.”

“Too cold! Just like The Sound. Give me Florida any day. Or at least Cape May! It’ll be nice to have our new bedroom suite when we get home.”

“I sure hope everything fits. California King, two dressers and two night stands? Our room is big but it’s not that big!”

“I’m just glad to get a new bed, no offense!” Joe said. “That double bed wasn’t the best. We’ll have a hard time fitting it and the bikes in the spare room when our parents come and visit.”

“Yeah. It’d be nice to have a house.”

“Someday. Maybe I should get a job first?”

“Oh, come on! You’ll have a job before June’s over. Who wouldn’t want to hire you?”

“I hope you’re right. A house would be nice but I guess that until I know where I’m working there’s no sense in looking for a job even if we could afford it. Someday.”

“Yeah, Someday. Someday soon, I’m telling you!”

“How long is the flight?”

“Three hours.”

“So, what- land before noon, take a bus to Sandals. We’ll be in paradise before four. I love you, Misty.”

“Love you too, Joe. I guess I won’t make them stop the plane.”

“Roger that.”