The Honeymoon Chronicles

On my first day of being married, I woke up at the Sheraton in Pomona with my new husband. (We are high rollers you see.) We were supposed to finish loading the truck and head up to Santa Barbara that night. Alex wondered aloud if perhaps we should stay another night, to avoid feeling rushed. I told him we'd be fine, and we should just try and get on the road. Well ok, he said, but we're supposed to check out in twenty minutes. We decided to stay another day after all.

On my second day of being married, we loaded up our honeymoon truck Clampett style, and headed off to Santa Barbara in the early evening.

Honeymoon Truck as Decorated by Jordin and Casey.

We were driving happily on the 10 (a major freeway in California) and got to the place where it merges with the 5 (another major freeway), when I heard a loud thunk.

Alex: "Oh [censored]!"
Hannah: "What did we lose?"
Alex: "Everything."
Hannah: "What do you mean 'everything'?"
Alex: "Absolutely everything."

At this point he had pulled into the median and put the truck in park. By the time I was out of the cab he was already sprinting down the freeway. The wind had gotten under the tarp that covered the sum total of our lives, and ripped the wooden frame from the truck. The frame sat 300 feet behind us, while boxes were scattered all over the freeway. Alex was already pulling things out of the road, and I ran to join him. We cleared everything we could, everynow and then I would see one of my shoes, or one of Alex's books from boxes that had split open and couldn't be salvaged. When the road was mostly clear, the traffic that had stopped to avoid hitting us (never say Los Angeles drivers aren't considerate!) started again, and we stood for a moment listening to the crunch of pill bottles and cd cases we had left behind. We stood by the truck and I thought to myself: "Welp, this is it. I guess we live here now." At the very least we would have to stay one more night. I wondered who we should call in a situation like this...the police? The highway patrol? My mom? Could this be--after a lifetime of waiting--my chance at last to use a call box? No, I had a cell phone, I could just use that. Discouraged by this last thought, I turned to ask Alex what he thought we should do. He had dissapeared down the freeway, where he pulling the wooden frame towards me. What are we supposed to do with that? I wondered. Apparently what we were going to do was put it back on the truck. I was skeptical, but one has to humor one's spouse (chapter one of my book!) and so I helped him lift it. When it was on the truck once more, he pulled out a drill and turned to me, "Hannah, find me some wood." It was at this point I realized that I had married well. We then procceded to patch and reattach the frame. About halfway through I looked at Alex apologetically, "I'm sorry. But I have to stop and take some pictures."
He looked at me with understanding in his eyes. "I know you do babe. I know you do." And I did.

Between the 10 and the 5

Basically MacGuyver.

Him: Ok, I need you to hammer the posts in while I hold them steady.
Me: TAKE A PICTURE!

About half of the stuff that fell, the other half was on the other side of the freeway.

When all was said and done, we recovered almost everything. We lost a box of books, a box of toiletries, a microwave and a toaster. But what we lost in possessions, we more than made up for in a good story.

Stay tuned next time when we meet Paul Bunyan!