A Honeymoon Story: The Exciting and Fortunate Conclusion

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If you haven't done it already, reading  

the introduction,

A Honeymoon Story: Part 1,

A Honeymoon Story: Part Dos,

A Honeymoon Story: Part 3,

and A Honeymoon Story: Part "Good Heaven's, Will it Ever End???"

is a good idea.

A Honeymoon Story 

AKA

 The First Episode of a Longstanding Tradition in Unlucky Travels and How I Came to Appreciate American Soil 

I.E.

The Mexico Debacle: The Exciting and Fortunate Conclusion

We stood on the curb the next morning waiting with bated breath and twisted stomachs.  Twisted; firstly because we were stressed and nervous.  But also because we couldn’t afford to eat until we knew how much the key and fob would cost.

And then we did more waiting.  Although Jaime had promised he would collect us at 11:30 sharp, Nacho didn’t show up until 1:00.  When we got to Xel-Ha, Nacho met with the locksmith and then handed us his keys.  He told us we’d better hurry and meet his brother at the shop because it was already past 1:40.

I was sure this couldn’t be possible, until I looked at a clock and compared it to my watch and realized that it had actually been 40 minutes slow the entire time we’d been in Mexico.

We jumped in Nacho’s car and drove, praying the whole time.  Please let us be able to afford the key, please let us get out of here alive, please let us make our flight on time... all we wanted at that point was to get home.  It didn’t seem like too much to ask.  

I was sick with worry, almost to the point of tears.  mr was fighting the worst traffic.  We were both silent in our fears, when the fuel light came on.

It would really be something if I told you that we ran out of gas there on the highway.  That we had to walk 15 miles to the nearest gas station.  That we then had to hike 15 miles back and put gas in the car, and on the way WE MET A GIGANTIC PURPLE DRAGON SPOUTING FIRE WHO FED ONLY ON AMERICAN HONEYMOONERS WITH NO MONEY AND EVEN LESS HOPE.... but no, none of that happened.  That's exactly how I was feeling in the moment the light blinked at us, but it didn't happen.

We searched out a gas station and made it to the shop at 2:55, 5 minutes before we needed to be at the airport to make it through security.  

Jaime explained then that although the key itself cost only $300, the fob cost $150, bringing the total to $450.  My heart sank.  Do prayers really work?  I began to question in my head.  What would we do?  How could we possibly outrun the mob when the airport was still at least 5 miles away and we had no car?

I explained to Jaime that we had only $300.  Finite, en total-ay, that’s it.  He must have thought I was trying to swindle him or bargain him down, because he kept saying that it wasn’t enough.  Finally I took out the money and handed it to him, showing him my now empty wallet.  “We don’t have anymore money now.  But we could wire you more money when we get home.  Can we do that?”  I begged.  Please, please, please...

“Like Western Union?” He asked.  “Yes, exactly!”  I was relieved that he at least understood me.  “Sure!” He smiled, “No problem!”

Really?  That worked?  Maybe he wasn’t part of the mafia after all...

Things happened in a blur at that point.  mr pointed out we had a plane to catch and Jaime dropped everything and took us to the airport.  On the way he asked if we’d had fun and told us to come again soon and he’d get us the “friend’s discount” because he knew a guy... And that still seemed a bit shady to me.  But he was awfully nice after everything we put him through.  Of course, if he actually thought we’d be back again anytime soon after all of that, he was sorely mistaken.

When we got to the airport we realized that we had more time than we thought.  We even had enough time (and pocket change) to buy ourselves some food; which was awesome because we hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before.

All through the flight back into the US, I kept having nightmarish day dreams where some Mexican thug suddenly stood up at the front of the plane demanding we pay repercussions for our carelessness.  Then I had nightmarish day dreams of landing, only to be stopped by customs for trying to smuggle something into the country that had been slipped into our bags unbeknownst to us while we were occupied paying for the key.  THEN I had nightmarish day dreams about being pulled back into Mexico and sent to prison and rotting there with rats running over our pale, American bodies...

But none of that happened.  The flight landed.  We got off.  We made it to our connection.  We landed again.  We found our bags.  We got to our car.  We drove 45 minutes to our apartment.  

I had never been so glad to be home in my life.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad since then, either.

And you know what?  We found mr's cell phone in our car.  I hadn't actually lost it after all.

You know what?  It's a good thing I married the best man possible.  Because the only way we could have survived that was together.  And we both learned some valuable lessons.  Don’t rent a car in Mexico (if for no other reason than that they drive like lunatics there and you are taking your life into your hands... they don’t even pay attention to designated lanes; the lines are just decoration, and the speed limits are just suggestions...).  Don’t loose your keys at the bottom of the ocean.  Pay better attention in Spanish class.  Try to stay somewhere with a phone - just for emergencies, you know.  Ok, this one's real: Keep better track of your finances, especially if you’re planning an out of country trip. But the three most important things I learned on my honeymoon were:

1. Prayers really are answered.  No, God did not suddenly make the key less expensive.  But he did touch the heart of Jaime with understanding and compassion which allowed us to make it home in one piece.  And just for the record, we really did wire Jaime the money; I spoke to him on the phone and he was very excited to hear from us.

2. mr and I can make it through anything.  Our honeymoon was hard.  Was it the worst trial we will ever go through?  I’d like to say yes, but I know that’s probably not true.  If we stay patient with each other - as we did on this trip - and if we trust in the Lord, we really can survive through hardships, together.

3. It’s important to overlook mistakes - even if they are big ones.  I have to remind myself of this over and over again.  I make mistakes... he makes mistakes.  Are any of those mistakes even comparable to losing rental car keys in the sea?  I don’t know, that was a pretty big one.  But I didn’t place blame at the time because I knew it was an accident.  Like I said, we were in the newly-married, lovey-dovey phase.  I think we should try for that “newly-married, more forgiving and accommodating” feeling more often.

I didn't know what a crazy journey marriage would be when he asked me:

(and no, we didn't realize my sister was taking pictures...)

But I sure am glad I said yes.  Crazy, scary, chaotic, stressful adventure though it may be... it is also the most joyous.

*Be sure to check just below for all the fun parties I link to!

A Honeymoon Story: Part "Good Heaven's, Will it Ever End????"

If you haven't done it already, reading  

the introduction,

A Honeymoon Story: Part 1,

A Honeymoon Story: Part Dos,

and A Honeymoon Story: Part 3

is a good idea.

A Honeymoon Story 

AKA

 The First Episode of a Longstanding Tradition in Unlucky Travels and How I Came to Appreciate American Soil 

I.E.

The Mexico Debacle: Part "Good Heaven's, Will it Ever End???"

In my sweetest, calmest voice I asked him why in the world I would have the car keys when in fact HE had been the one driving all week long and, after all, it had been him who’d locked the car up in the first place.  

We searched our pockets.  We emptied our backpack.  We backtracked and looked in the locker room - crossing our fingers so that we would find them in a locker or sitting lazily on a bench, mocking us.  No such luck.  We went back to the car and looked inside.  Of course they weren’t there.  mr began to verbally retrace his steps - “I got out, I locked the car.  I put the keys in my pocket.  We went into the park and I just... forgot all about them...” - when I noticed that he was still wearing his swimming trunks.  With wide eyes I politely pointed this out, then asked in an even calmer, sweeter voice than before if he’d been wearing his swimming trunks into the park.  He replied that of course he had.  A light was dawning on the situation, but he didn't quite grasp it yet.  I reaffirmed: "You didn't bring any other clothes - you weren't wearing different shorts when you came in?"  He was adamant:  "No, no, I was ALWAYS wearing these..."  the light broke in full force over both of us.

He’d put the keys in his pocket, naturally.  In his swimming trunks.  Then he had promptly gone snorkeling, swimming, tubing and even jumped off a cliff.  There was only one place those keys could be.

I would like to take this moment to recap.  We are in Mexico.  We are short on cash.  We have almost unwittingly fallen prey to a mobster running a car rental shop as a cover, but pay him just in time.  We’ve been rained on, sunburned, stolen from, and completely stressed out.  Now we have lost the keys TO OUR RENTAL CAR, most likely at the bottom of the ocean.  We are again about to fall prey to a mobster who runs a car rental shop as a cover - with the most probable conclusion of ending up on the ocean floor along with our keys. 

I refused to panic… We ran around the park, stopping at every information desk and bar along the way asking if anyone had turned in a set of lost keys.  Unfortunately, in all my years of Spanish, we never really covered a situation quite like this, and I was kind of at a loss as to what to say... We generally stuck to the basics - so I could quite fluently ask them "donde esta el bano?" but was at an utter loss when it came to losing our keys.  “Um, uh, we, er, nosotros perdimos our... um...keys (insert wild turning of the wrist here)... de la coche...”  We received a lot of blank stares and a lot of shaking heads.

With increasing temor y la desesperación, we said many silent prayers while we made our way to the main help desk to begin our pleas yet again.  As I combined my mad skills of universal sign language and Spanglish, the young man I was speaking with stopped me with a shake of his head and a smile.  "I speak English!"  He declared, with hardly an accent.  Apparently he had lived in Kansas for 7 years.  His name was Angel.  No, I’m not kidding.  Rather serendipitous, no?  

He understood our situation perfectly and told us not to worry so much.  “Every car rental place keeps duplicate keys!”  He exclaimed.  His easy smile put us at ease.  He would rescue us.  He would make everything right again.  We would NOT swim with the fishes - at least not figuratively.

We gave him the name of the rental company we'd used in Cancun and Angel called the operator, speaking rapidly in a Spanish I couldn’t begin to understand.  He finally handed me the phone, looking pleased and told me to speak with the owner of the company.  The man I tried to talk to (but failed miserably) was indeed the owner of said car rental company, but in Playa del Carmen, not Cancun.  He informed me (as well as he could) that there was no company in Cancun by that name.

This was the exact moment that mr and I remembered that the name of the company on the car and the name of the company on the paperwork we filled out did not match.  It seemed fishy at the time, but we were so happy to get a car we ignored it.  Jaime was now starting to look more and more like a member of the Mexican mafia.  For all we knew, he’d stolen the car in the first place, his shop wasn’t really a rental shop and we had been carting around illegal substances hidden under a false floor in the trunk.  We could now smell the rotting jail cell and feel the rats climbing over us as we withered away through the years... has anyone seen “Brokedown Palace” with Claire Danes?  Enough said.

Of course we did have all of the information for the rental car company on our duplicate paperwork.  In the glove box.  INSIDE the car.

We had no way to find Jaime.  And we didn’t really know if we wanted to find him at this point.  Maybe it would be better to walk to the airport and sleep there...  We didn’t even know his last name.

Angel assured us that he could help us.  “I know a guy,” he told us. (Whatever THAT means.)  And we stood there nervously, while Angel had a friend track Jaime down using the scant information we had: Jaime, Veloz Car Rental, Cancun... and literally watched a miracle happen.  This friend not only found the rental company, he found Jaime’s CELL PHONE number.

mr got to tell Jaime our news.

“You lost the keys to the car?” Jaime asked in disbelief.  mr replied in the affirmative.

“Ay, ay, ay!” Jaime exclaimed. “Where?”  

“We don’t know.” mr stated the obvious.  

“Maybe in the water?” Jaime concluded.  

“Yes, probably.” mr hung his head.  

“Ay, ay, ay!”  Jaime exclaimed again.

He told us he would drive to the office and get the duplicate and that we should call him back in forty minutes.  

It was 5:00 and by this time the park was closed and everyone was gone.  The employees were starting to leave.  So Angel took us to watch the soccer tournament that all the Xel-Ha employees were having in the back parking lot.  After rooting for both teams (so as not to hurt feelings) and feeling severely out of place for forty minutes, Angel placed the long awaited phone call for us.  

PS.  We accidentally stole that blue and white towel from Xel-ha.  Sorry, Xel-ha.

“Bad news.” Jaime told us when we reached him. “There’s no copy."  I knew by mr's face that his heart had sunk just as mine had.  

Jaime's voice perked up.  "But I know a guy!” (Does everyone in Mexico know “a guy”?) 

“I will come get you and give you a different car.  We can go back to the park and make a copy of the key tomorrow.”  As already mentioned, we were seriously low on cash.  mr asked how much it would cost and Jaime assured us he would only charge us the cost of the key.  Well, that was good news, at least.

We waited and waited.  The soccer game ended.  Before he left, Angel explained our situation to the security guards who were there around the clock so they wouldn’t think we were sneaky thieves and so they could help us if we needed it.  We waited and waited some more.  At 8:30 pm the guards called Jaime to see where he was.  He said he had a little car trouble but would be there soon. 

We waited longer.  About twenty minutes later he called back.  “Bad news.” He started.  I was seriously beginning to dread those words. 

“My tire… it exploded!”  

Fortunately he was already at the front gate.  The guards ran out to let him in.  Unfortunately, he had no wrench.  Fortunately, a park administrator who was working late DID have a wrench.  Unfortunately, his spare tire didn’t fit because it was actually to a different car.  FORTUNATELY, he was nothing if not resourceful.  He ended up taking the tire off of our rental car and putting it on his car.  (honestly, I couldn't make this stuff up.)

He hadn’t been able to find anyone to drive an extra car out to us, so instead, he drove us to our hotel and promised to be back in the morning to pick us up, take us to Xel-Ha to have the key made and then get us to the airport by 3:00 pm.  As he left us at our cabana, we got the really bad news.

Car theft was a huge issue in Cancun.  As such, all rental cars in the area were fitted with a microchip in their key fob so they couldn’t be stolen easily.  The key we lost along with its fob would cost about $300 to replace.  

Aside from being an exorbitantly high amount of money for a new key, this was bad news on another level entirely.   You see, that was the EXACT amount of money we had left to our names - $300 and some change.  

We spent a restless night trying to sleep, hoping that we’d be able to leave the country without needing knee replacements or doing time.   Finding no other comfort, we finally knelt together and offered a simple prayer.  “Please help us to be able to pay.  Please help us to get home.”

*Be sure to check just below for all the fun parties I link to!

A Honeymoon Story: Part 3

If you haven't already, reading  

the introduction,

A Honeymoon Story: Part 1,

and A Honeymoon Story: Part Dos

is a good idea.

A Honeymoon Story 

AKA

 The First Episode of a Longstanding Tradition in Unlucky Travels and How I Came to Appreciate American Soil 

I.E.

The Mexico Debacle

PART THREE

We did manage to find our little hotel with no problems.  I use the term "hotel" loosely.  mr made all of our honeymoon arrangements himself and he thought it would be much more romantic to stay in a little cabana on the beach, off the beaten path, secluded and tucked away, than it would be to stay in a large, overpopulated resort.  And under normal circumstances he would be right - that would be more romantic.  But these were not normal circumstances.  These were completely stressful Murphy’s Law kind of circumstances. 

Once we located the front entrance and checked in (easier said than done), we were directed to our small, one room hut.  There was no air conditioning and no hot water.  Actually, with no air conditioning - no hot water was a blessing.  But there was no cold water either.  Just this tepid, sun-warmed water, even in the jug they left us to drink from.  There was also no electricity except for a few hours in the evening because the whole cluster of cabanas ran on one small generator.  Which meant we only enjoyed the delicious relief of the ceiling fan for two hours every night.  The door was locked with a padlock - from the OUTSIDE - and the windows didn’t lock at all.  And above all, we shared this cabana with a gigantic, hairy spider which we nicknamed Jorge, El Stupendo.  Oh, and halfway through our stay, a large lizard named Bob moved in.  I believe he may have eaten Jorge.  Though I have no proof. 

All of the above I could have tolerated in the name of romance.  Really.  The hammocks were heavenly.  The beach was miraculous.  

The view all around was inexplicable.  BUT, the next morning we discovered that this “hotel” had no phone.  Not even for emergencies.   We were told to go around the corner and buy a phone card from a small shop - but not just any phone card.  A “Telmex,” because apparently they were cheaper and "better" than normal ones.  (What does that MEAN??)  When we got to the shop, I asked for said "specific card", but she had none - she only sold "normal ones".  I bought it anyway and tried it right away on the pay phone just outside.  No luck.  Just some Spanish rattled off much too quickly for me to understand.  We drove to a different phone and tried again.  No luck.  (Really??)  I grew desperate and tried to ask the operator if she could connect me to the United States – “Uh, necesitamos llamar los estados unidos…” – but this was a mistake because she then thought I was fluent in Spanish, despite my ridiculously lousy accent.  Since I couldn’t understand a word of her reply, I hung up hastily, fearing I may have just told her I needed to wrestle the wet cat or something equally ridiculous.  So we drove back to the hotel and begged for help.  The guys there told me to go into the village and try.  “These phones on the beach, they are no good,” they explained.  mr thought this was absolutely ridiculous.  As if the phones in town would magically work when nothing else would.  There was nothing else for it, though.  We had to try.

We searched and searched for a regular pay phone, but all they had in town were Telmex phones.  Wishing I had waited and purchased a Telmex phone card somewhere else, I finally decided to try the normal card on the Telmex phone because I was desperate and it was hot.  And, miraculously (or not miraculously, to this day I don’t know what the difference in the cards or phones are) it worked.

mr was finally able to call the bank back and we stood in the sweltering sun on the corner hoping for good news.  When mr hung up, I could tell there was no good news.  We were approved for an extended credit line, but due to the aforementioned miscalculations and carelessness, it was completely used up with our debt already.

There we sat on a small step beside a steamy alley, watching tourists walk in and out of shops, counting shabby cars drive by, sweating in the oppressive humidity.  We sat in silence, each of us at a loss as to what to do.  I had visions of being hauled away by a corrupt police department and rotting in a rat infested jail cell while we tried unsuccessfully to contact the American Embassy and our parents held press conferences to convince the Mexican government to free us.  

We sat a bit longer, our mouths watering at the smell of Mexican food drifting our way from vendors and open air restaurants.  We sat, sad and drained and hopeless.  My visions changed to Jaime hiring the Mexican mafia to break our kneecaps or deposit us at the bottom of the ocean where we would likely become fish food.  I knew mr was thinking the same thing when he sighed and resigned himself to calling his parents for help.

I’m not sure if his parents knew the extent of the situation at that point.  I know it’s a good thing mine did not.  But they informed us that they intended to give us a monetary wedding present anyway, so they would deposit it in our account as soon as they hung up.

Feeling ashamed, yet relieved, that we would have enough money to pay our debtors and do fancy things like eat, we called Jaime to let him know we had the rest of the payment for the car.

Later that night, (after we'd already gone to bed to be precise) Jaime appeared (woke us up) and collected his cash.  I'm sure he was hoping he'd have no more trouble with this particular clientele - and trust me, so were we. 

Things went remarkably smoothly for a few days.

At one point, mr left the car lights on all day while parked in the hotel parking lot, and when the staff finally told us, we were sure we’d have car trouble - but amazingly we didn’t.  We visited two Mayan ruins (in Tulum and Coba) and both times it poured on us... and when I say “poured” what I really mean is that the skies cracked open and let loose a torrential onslaught of never-ending water which soaked us through to the bone, creating rivers down the pathways and waterfalls down the stairs and ruining everything in our backpack, including a novel mr had borrowed from his mom.  There was no possible way to get wetter than we were in that tropical storm - unless perhaps we had jumped into the ocean with our clothes on.  

While at the Tulum ruins, my purse was stolen out of our car.  You’d think this would be the low point of the entire trip, but fortunately I had been wise enough not to keep anything of value in it at all.  I had simply been using it to tote around our lunch of soggy peanut butter sandwiches.  There was no visible sign of forced entry to the car, and the thieves were nice enough to politely lock the doors after themselves.  

Also at Tulum, mr got horrible sunburn - the worst part of that being that we couldn’t locate aloe anywhere - and our camera batteries died which was depressing because of course we hadn’t thought to bring extra from home.  I bought a disposable camera for the rest of the trip.  None of these small annoyances phased us, though, for we had already survived much worse!  Nothing could stop us from having the most perfect time on our honeymoon!

On our last full day in Mexico, mr decided that it was time to throw caution to the wind.  We’d had a lot of stress, and he wanted one full day of fun with no worries.  We settled on a trip to Xel-Ha, 

an eco-park not too far from our cabana with beautiful nature walks, scuba diving by the carnivorous fish, 

coves for snorkeling, caves, cenotes, 

cliffs to jump off, a river to float down, hammocks, massage parlors, swimming with the dolphins and fantastic restaurants.

We couldn’t do everything, so we picked some things that looked exciting and spent the day walking,

floating, jumping, swinging, 

snorkeling

and eating our stress away.  

At the end of the day, we got dressed and headed back to our car.  Then mr said those fateful words - "Do you have the car keys?"

*Be sure to check just below for all the fun parties I link to!