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Our Honeymoon At the Gay Hotel~
We were young, poor and had done our very best to pay for our own wedding, so the gift was perfect. The gift was a honeymoon.
It came wrapped in a Hallmark envelop from my bride’s father and step-mom. The card said, “This coupon good for three nights on the water in Laguna Beach”. Fucking beautiful, we were tapped out so until then our honeymoon looked like box wine and filthy, bedroom sex. “Filthy, bedroom sex” being a classic double entendre: as our bedroom is typically filthy, and this being our honeymoon….well. Figure it out.
We had survived a week of last minute planning, out-of-town visitors, a drug-addled bachelor party (ok that was just me), an intimate “family” only wedding under a tree at dusk in the red rock desert, our reception the following night complete with food, dancing and gratuitous drinking. By the morning following the soiree we were exhausted, half-sick and in desperate need of a break. We said a few good-byes, napped awhile then we headed south on I-15 out of Vegas in the late afternoon.
Hours later, deep into the megalopolis of LA proper when consulted the computer printout of our reservation confirmation, our step mother-in-law had located the beachfront hotel and booked their best suite ALL online. The address was a five digit number on Pacific Coast Highway, nothing seemed mysterious about it.
It was dark by the time we rolled through a quiet, weekday evening in downtown Laguna. A feast of trendy galleries, posh boutiques and glamorous eateries planted seeds of promise in our young lovers’ hearts as we rolled past. We drifted quietly down PCH enjoying the salt smell of the sea while monitoring the numerical advance of block after long, sporadic block. As the numbers climbed we got closer to our hotel. Finally we past the intersection which meant the next block promised our destination. We were on the outskirts of the primary commercial district so the buildings were mostly dark, forced by the steep command of the slope to only be on the sea side of the roadway. Small avenues shot off perpendicular, dead-ending at the seawall. Our windows down, we could smell the kelp dying on the beach. It was exciting and new like we were the characters in a romance novel, our honeymoon bed achingly close.
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