The Honeymoon

By Yvonne Kays

You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.
~Colette

Keith and I were blessed to find love at age sixty. I had planned a trip to Florida with a friend and when she had a change in plans it became the perfect honeymoon for us. Neither Keith nor I had ever been to Florida, and the thought of palm trees, warmth, and sun after a cold, rainy Oregon winter was a dream come true.

Our first day was amazing. Driving from Orlando toward Cape Canaveral, we were curious about a group of people who had stopped along the roadside and were looking up into the sky. We pulled over to find out why they were there. Suddenly, we were gazing in awe at a shuttle blasting off and disappearing into space with a spiraling vapor trail. Later, a walk on the beach hand-in-hand and a romantic candlelight dinner capped off an incredible day.

"Let's explore the St. Petersburg area tomorrow," Keith suggested, little knowing what that next day held in store.

Driving west to St. Petersburg, we continued wandering southward into Fort DeSoto State Park. We were pleasantly surprised to be greeted with a sign that read, "#1 Beach in America in 2005." Wisps of clouds floated in an azure sky. A postcard had shown the beach covered with bodies, but we shared the warm, caressing waves and beautiful palm-shaded shore with only one other family. To our delight, a group of graceful dolphins swam by as we gazed from the pier. We spotted the angular form of a huge frigate bird soaring high above.

"Frigate birds are usually only seen along shore when a storm is brewing," a passing park ranger told us. No hint of that -- what a treat!

After a swim on the idyllic beach, we continued exploring southward, trekking over a magnificent cabled bridge that stretched over the bay with no end in sight. Hunger overtook us as we reached civilization again on the far shore. Unable to find a park nearby, we stopped to munch local vegetables and fruit on a dead end street just off the freeway. A bench seemed to invite visitors, but we chose to sit in the shade of our rented PT Cruiser and observe the neighborhood. I watched a young man stroll across the street with a weed eater, and envisioned him heading to an elderly neighbor's house to help with yard work.

Suddenly a sheriff's car appeared on the right side of our vehicle, and a young officer quickly approached with his hand on his gun. I had a sudden vision of a chubby Barney Fife.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Having lunch and drinking my buttermilk," I replied as I held up the milk carton. "Is there a problem, officer?"

"Well, yes -- if you are selling drugs," he said.

Selling drugs? How absurd! I laughed aloud. The young officer flushed, and looked at me sternly, as my husband Keith jabbed me in the ribs.

"What are you doing having lunch in the ghetto, then," the officer said, "unless you want to be carjacked?"

I gazed in disbelief at the neighborhood homes. What did he mean, ghetto? It was not an affluent neighborhood by any means, but certainly not my idea of a ghetto.

Suddenly another officer appeared by Keith's door, and I saw in the side view mirror that a second sheriff's car had pulled in behind our vehicle. As my husband was asked for his license, he tried to explain that our plight was just an innocent mistake. Gradually, the young officers began to realize we really were just lost tourists from Oregon, not drug dealers. We were only too glad to follow their directions to leave the area and get back on the freeway.

"What were you doing, laughing at that officer?" Keith sputtered. "Did you want to get us arrested?"

"I can't believe they thought we were drug dealers. I should have pulled out my county ID badge that shows I'm an Alcohol/Drug Prevention Specialist and let him look at that," I said.

"Oh yeah -- I'm sure he would think you were just using that as a cover!" Keith retorted.

"Do you think a drug dealer would choose a grandmotherly car like a PT Cruiser? I'd have a Corvette or a Cadillac for sure," I quipped, choking with laughter. Looking down the freeway, I gasped, "Oh, please hurry, and find a rest area soon," as I held my sides and tears ran down my cheeks. Two senior citizens accused of being drug dealers on their honeymoon. This was one day we would surely long remember!

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