Our entertainment was mostly walking around the different places we went but we did ride the tram from the mountainside to the mountaintop after dark. The lights were beautiful and my DH took some long exposures that traced them on the film in patterns only possible with the swaying of the car. We also went to the Ripley’s Believe It or Not museum and saw all the unique and downright bizarre exhibits.
The second night, we went to see “Unto These Hills“. It’s a play telling the history of the Cherokee and is filled with drama, suspense, and comedy. Guess you could say it has something for everyone. It gets cold in the outdoor amphitheater so it was a good excuse to snuggle.
We spent each night in a different place. Since I haven’t been recounting it like when my DD was growing up (she told me the other day that she’d had me tell her about the wedding “a million times”) I have lost track of where we stayed when.
Sometime, we went to see “A Clockwork Orange“. Bad choice. Neither one of us knew anything about it except it was critically acclaimed and it was in all the entertainment news. It was the most twisted, disturbing movie I have ever seen and I wish I didn’t have it inside my head. It was a terrible way to spend more than two hours. I would never encourage anyone to watch it. My sleep wasn’t what it should have been that night. My DH didn’t like it, either. I don’t know why we didn’t get up and walk out. I guess we’d spent our money on it and didn’t want to “waste” it. It was a waste of time.
One night, we stayed in a motel in the university town where we were moving later. What marked that occasion was the commode overflowed and we had to change rooms. Happy memories! We did laugh about it later.
The last night was spent at my brother-in-law’s place with his three sons lurking outside the bedroom door. They had a great time harassing us. Come to think of it, I still haven’t paid them in kind.
It was Sunday and time to get back to Real Life. It was a hot muggy day and we traveled with the windows rolled down. When we pulled into the driveway, the boys met us. They were both curiously peering into the car. I asked them what they were looking for and they said the baby. Huh? “Where is the baby?” It took some minutes to convince them that there wasn’t one. Well, we were married. Weren’t we supposed to have a baby? That isn’t quite the way it happens, sons. It takes a lot longer than a week to have a baby.
As it turned out, it took years but there’s lots to recount between now and then. Stay tuned…