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What is the honeymoon equivalent of stepping in gum? Stepping in gum wearing new shoes, but, on the upside, in a really lovely locale. Because that’s what our honeymoon was.
We stayed at the Majestic Elegance in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. The grounds were beautiful and our room was wonderful: a hot tub, comfy bed, and a balcony where we enjoyed breakfast nearly every morning.

The beach was beautiful and the water was bathtub-warm. The sun hid behind clouds, but we didn’t care. We spent the first few days lazing about under umbrellas, floating in the pool, and, during rainstorms, enjoying no waits at the swim-up bar!

There was a tropical depression of some sort during our week. When a storm rolled in, we’d huddle under our umbrellas with drinks and books. I accomplished some quality napping.

And on the upside, rainy weather = empty beaches.

By midweek, however, I wasn’t feeling so great. Mr. Potato Head was just recovering from a particularly nasty case of salmonella that he got in May; he was especially careful not to drink tap water and to stick with blander foods (margaritas not included).
Things went from bad to worse. We got there on a Saturday. By Wednesday we were eating mostly bread.

The end of the week also marked my thirtieth birthday. I’d planned to celebrate the big 3-0 in honeymoon-tastic style: we had booked a dune buggy off-roading tour followed by an afternoon in the spa. I anticipated that it would be my best birthday yet!
At 11:59 p.m., one minute before I turned 30, I was inducted into adulthood. Initiation: food poisoning (severe), Pepto (copious), ginger tea (not helpful).
We woke up that morning to beautiful skies: the sun had finally come out!
Outside our room, paradise.

Inside our room, hot mess:

In lieu of dune bug adventures, massages, and aromatherapy, we spent the day watching NCIS marathons, booting, and begging room service to please, please, just bring us a bowl of cereal or piece of bread, please (no dice).
I kinda lose track of time after that day, but I do know that the sunshine returned… the morning we left. Getting home was another matter entirely. For some reason we found ourselves with a canceled connecting flight, the meanest Delta customer service people ever (I’m looking at you, CrankyPants at JFK!), and, after much haggling and a few tears, staying the night in a barely-opened NYC hotel room. By “barely opened” I mean the hotel had no sign (we had to use our cell phone GPS to get the cabbie there), there were no towels or washcloths of any kind, no trash baskets, and a restaurant with one poor, frantic waiter and one menu which the diners passed around to one another while complaining about Delta.

Eventually, Toto and Dorothy made it home to Boston and eventually starting eating real food again.
We learned many things from our honeymoon!
Was your honeymoon a little (or a lot) rocky? What happened?
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