Tales from the Honeymoon Part 8: All Abhorred, America!

Canada was a wonderful experience. I wish I could say our honeymoon ended on a high-note, but once we began our return to the States, it seemed fate had other plans in mind.

It all began with Amtrak. As part of our vacation package, Melanie and I were able to choose between bussing or training back into Seattle. We opted for the latter—the seemingly more romantic mode of transit. The result was sheer tedium. Originally told we’d arrive in Seattle around 9:45pm, we didn’t get off the train until 10:30. The four-and-a-half hour commute would have taken less than three by car. But did the train at least provide a unique display of lush northwestern splendor? No. It was dark shortly after we departed. All the train provided was a 30-mile-per-hour headache. The rocking and squeaking was incessant. It was stuffy and hot. It was torture. The one positive outcome of riding the train was watching The March of the Penguins. Sadly, I had to spend $8 to buy the headphones necessary to listen to it. I felt it was a waste of money to spend money on something I already owned, but I would have done anything to distract myself from the train ride itself. (Illogically enough, I would have felt better spending eight bucks on an Amtrak-only version of headphones, since that would constitute an “unavoidable” expense. The fact that I owned headphones and simply didn’t have them on me made me feel worse about buying some. Stupid, I know.)

For our final night in Seattle, Melanie and I stayed at the chic Hotel Ändra. Frankly, it was too hip and contemporary for our tastes. This was sad because I had been more excited about this hotel than any other, and it easily ended up being our least favorite. I think it was designed for the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy set. It had funky artwork, dark elevators with TVs in them, and—in lieu of an ice machine—pre-measured, individual-sized bags of ice tied up with string. How cute. Due to our late arrival and semi-early departure, we didn’t even make use of the coolest feature, a widescreen plasma television hanging on our suite’s “living room” wall.


The “living room” in question. Notice the funky colors and patterns on the furniture. See what I mean? On the right, you can see the TV hanging on the wall. Nifty.


A small peek at the equally small bathroom. Cornflower blue was the right choice for wall paint. It keeps customers calm while showering in a room the size of a New York City apartment closet.


The bedroom, which provides more evidence of the hotel’s “hipness” (though I do admit to liking the purple bedside lamps). That top blanket was extremely heavy and warm and shaggy. It was basically a carpet.

On our final morning of the honeymoon, Melanie and I decided to eat at the hotel’s restaurant, Lola. Started by a supposedly renowned local chef, I had long looked forward to the “made-to-order doughnuts” promised by their online menu. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but, accompanied by vanilla mascarpone and apricot jam, they sounded truly delectable. Melanie opted for the granola with fruit and Greek yogurt. We both ordered orange juice and, once again, paid dearly for it. Apparently oranges are a rare commodity in the Pacific Northwest, as the cheapest glass of orange juice we could find was six bucks!

The food ended up being all about presentation. The doughnuts turned out to be nothing more than doughnut holes. They were brought out in a white lunch sack filled with cinnamon and sugar. Before spilling them onto my plate, the waitress coated the doughnuts by shaking the bag violently. Then, in keeping with the pretentiousness of the restaurant, the waitress did not merely open the bag and pour out the six pastry puffs. Rather, she took a pair of scissors and cut off the top half of the bag. Then she dumped them onto my plate. It was an interesting (if not altogether pointless) routine. Although I felt like I had just witnessed a magic trick, I withheld my applause.


My entire $10 order of “doughnuts.” For the same price, I could have had two dozen full-sized doughnuts from Krispy Kreme. Still, they were admittedly tasty. Due to its whiteness, the mascarpone is hidden in this picture. The only evidence of it is the partially obscured Lola logo on my plate.

Melanie’s granola looked promising. It had a heaping mound of yogurt and fresh blueberries on top. Then I tasted it. Not wanting to ruin my wife’s appetite, I did not immediately tell her my opinion. Due in large part to the sour flavor of the yogurt, I thought it quite literally tasted like vomit.


An attractive serving of granola à la barf.

After our fifty-dollar snack, we hadn’t much time before needing to head to the airport. Nevertheless, I had enough time to play around with the hotel room windows, opening them and leaning out and discovering what views were hiding behind our walls. Little did we know, our room had a view of the Space Needle—you just had to hang half way out of the window before you could see it.

When Melanie and I got to the airport, we were sad to be heading home. We were excited to begin our new life together, but the time had naturally passed more quickly than either of us would have hoped. Of course, I was pleased that Mountain Dew would no longer be in short supply. Other than that, the honeymoon was already beginning to feel nostalgic. And now, less than four months later, it easily seems like a year ago.


A vending machine at Sea-Tac International Airport. Notice the bounteous supply of Mountain Dew? God bless the USA!

So there it is. The honeymoon, in a very prolonged nutshell. I hope everyone (or at least someone) has enjoyed reading about it.

The end … of the beginning…