It wasn’t until we arrived at the airport as the sun was rising that I was told where I would be travelling as part of a six-week honeymoon.
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Given I had planned a wedding that involved uniting families from Victoria and Tasmania, I decided to have the husband surprise me with our holiday.
Six weeks later we had cruised the Caribbean and fallen in love with New York. Las Vegas was like going out on a Saturday night. Stunning during the evening, but the Sunday morning was not a pretty look.
The cruise was glorious. No phone or internet and the “winter” weather was a balmy 30 degrees every day.
It’s worth noting our whole honeymoon was based around a day trip to the husband’s favourite rum producer in Barbados – but according to him that is irrelevant.
One of my favourite experiences was visiting Disneyland. I had grown up on Disney movies – Santa would bring my sister and I a video to share every Christmas.
The park was like stepping into Neverland. It was beautiful, colourful and full of character (or should I say characters). I dragged my husband onto the Tea Cup ride and I nearly cried on the Little Mermaid ride. I had been transported back to my lounge room of singing Kiss the girl.
But then the husband – who jumps out of planes – wanted to go on some rollercoasters. I lined up, started to cry and backed out at the very last minute. He was on his own.
The next day we went to Universal Studios. After a small argument with the husband, I suggested we should go through the Haunted House. Stupid idea. I even messaged my sister back home who responded with: “run”. But I couldn’t back out because, afterall, I was angry with him and they are the rules of a couple’s argument.
The Haunted House was horrific. My heart races, even six years later, remembering the Chucky dolls, swinging carcasses and just not knowing when the next person would jump out.
I’ve walked out of horror films at the cinema. I jump when doors are opened in the house – by family members.
This is why I’m not a fan of Halloween. I was driving through Summerhill on October 31 when I saw children in costumes walking up the streets. There is nothing more terrifying than a child dressed as a scary clown or wearing the mask from Scream. I just can’t comprehend this need to be scared.
Life is terrifying with realities – bills, career decisions, raising children. Why do we need to add killer clowns to the mix?
But I’m all for the lollies. I’m happy for any ghosts or zombies to go gather and bring those back to me.
