Weddingbee Blog

King Hippo and I have been engaged for over a year, but it seems like just yesterday that he was down on both knees (yes, both) asking me to marry him. So without further ado, here’s the story of our engagement…

After more than two years of dating and a cross-country move to be together, I was anxious for King Hippo to pop the question. I had a feeling that it was coming soon because we had been in Chicago a few weeks earlier for Sister Hippo’s wedding, and King Hippo had spent some alone time with Mama Hippo. I was convinced that he had asked her permission, but he was giving no clues.

Two weeks later, we headed to the Bahamas for a much-needed vacation. We landed, got through the long line at customs, and waited for our bags—one small suitcase for King Hippo, one ginormous suitcase for me.

Waiting in line at customs in the Bahamas

King Hippo’s suitcase was already on the rotating baggage carrier thingamajig by the time we made it through customs. Mine? Nowhere to be found. We waited. And waited. And then went to the baggage counter. They looked it up in the computer by my baggage claim ticket and could find no record of it. We had checked our bags together at exactly the same time! The airline indicated that it was most likely on the next flight from New York, which was in just a few hours, and that it would be delivered to our hotel. They completed the claim paperwork and sent me on my way.

When we got to the hotel, the bellhop assured us that this happens “all the time” and that bags “almost always” show up on the next flight. We headed to dinner, explored the hotel, and checked back in with the bellhop a couple of hours later. Nothing.

The view from our balcony

Now, keep in mind, I had packed ALL my cute summer clothes—summer dresses, sandals, multiple swimsuits, cover-ups, shorts, everything. I had even made the conscious decision to pack my cutest bras and panties for the trip and wear not-so-cute ones on the plane. It’s just the plane, after all, right? And what’s worse, I almost always get cold on airplanes, so I decided to wear jeans and a short-sleeve top and bring a long-sleeve cardigan to keep me warm. This. Was. All. I. Had. And it was August. In the Bahamas.

Needless to say, by 9 p.m. when there was still no sign of my bag, I was miserable. This was shaping up to be the worst vacation ever. King Hippo suggested we just go back up to the room, and I immediately flung myself on the bed, whining and complaining. The next thing I know, King Hippo is at the side of the bed, on both knees (I think in an attempt to get as close to the bed as possible), with his hands behind his back just looking at me. I’m like, “What? What???!?” I’m honestly not sure exactly what he said, but I remember him saying my first and middle name together, which is pretty rare, and then he pulled out a gorgeous ring, and I caught the words love and marry. I was in complete shock and SO excited! This was the BEST vacation ever!

Mr. Hippo said he had planned to propose the next night at sunset, but the way our vacation was starting out, he wanted to turn things around…He definitely did! We spent the rest of the vacation scuba diving, relaxing, trying to find clothes I could wear that didn’t have BAHAMAS written all over them, and basking in the glow of being engaged.

Oh, if only I had put that flat iron in my carry-on!

FYI—I still haven’t gotten my suitcase, and I’m convinced that some Bahamian woman is rocking some really cute summer dresses.

Did anyone else get engaged on what was otherwise a horrible day?