Harry and I

Writer’s Cramp: Write a COMEDY STORY about a couple who go on a ten-day cruise for their honeymoon - their luggage is lost by the airline and they have to set sail before it is found. All they have with them is her purse, his backpack, and a lot of love. Your story should be about how they handle their situation.

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Harry and I

         Love isn’t just for the young. I met Harry when he was eighty-four, and I was only slightly younger. It took us almost a year before we admitted that we were lost inside the depth of our emotions. Despite the arguments of our individual families, we took flight, married in Vegas and booked a cruise out of Los Angeles.

         I won’t go into details about our wedding night. Bliss isn’t just for teenagers, but Harry and I could hardly look at each other the next morning without blushing.

         Our eyes were red from sleep-deprivation, our cheeks were sagging, but we made it to the airport in time for our 9:00 A.M. flight. Harry, bless his heart, fell asleep the moment we took off.

         The flight was short. I spent my time glancing through a magazine and gazing down at Harry. The few wisps of hair that usually covered the top of his balding head in sleep fell down into his eyes. It made him even more dear to me. I wet my fingers and smoothed the strands of hair back into place. Harry didn’t budge.

         When we landed, I nudged him awake with a gentle kiss. His eyes opened, smiling. My heart tremored.

         We descended the steps, our hands entwined. One of the stewardesses whispered, “Isn’t that sweet!” I turned and gave her a smile, nudging Harry. He hadn’t heard the woman, but he gave me a kiss. (I think I blushed.)

         The tour group we’d booked with had arranged transportation. The guide was waiting for us, but our luggage wasn’t. The airline said they’d send it on. Harry looked worried, but I whispered in his ear, and he smiled down at me.

         The ship was the Star Princess, bound for the Mexican Riviera, and the line onto it was a two-hour wait. Harry and I sat on a couple of portable chairs that he had kept in his backpack, and so the wait wasn’t too bad -- until a little boy in the line dropped his ice cream cone on Harry. It fell right onto Harry's shirt and dribbled downward. The man behind us backed up to get away, and his camera bag swung into my face. That knocked me into the woman in front of me who collided with all the other people in line! What a stack of dominoes!

         Harry and I both landed on our bums and the ice cream -- chocolate, of course -- made a mess of my dress as well as finishing off any clean spots on Harry’s trousers.

         It was a great start to our honeymoon, but Harry and I looked at each other and just burst out laughing. Someone from the ship had to come help us up. Neither Harry nor I could walk by then, so they wheel-chaired us onboard.

         The ship’s medic insisted on checking us over. When he discovered that we’d lost all our luggage since the ship cast off without our suitcases ever catching up with us, Harry and I were given a couple of hospital gowns to wear – the kind that played peek-a-boo with your bottom.

         Later in our suite, we slipped into the room’s white fluffy robes, kicked back, and enjoyed the captain’s gift of complimentary champagne and fruit. It was a good thing because we didn’t dare visit the Capri or the Positano Dining Rooms -- not with our attire.

         Harry’s backpack held his medicine; my purse held mine. The night was young and if we weren’t, we were still willing to enjoy it. It should have been a beautiful start to our honeymoon.

         Unfortunately, right in the --- um -- the bed, Harry’s back went out. He got stuck and couldn’t move. I tried to slide out from under him, but every move I made brought a cry of pain from Harry.

         It took hours to extricate ourselves from the dilemma, and then the doctor was called, and we found ourselves right back in the medical room.

         With our robes on, it didn’t bother me as much, and the looks of the passengers who passed us were understanding. But poor Harry! Sitting in that wheelchair was causing him excruciating pain, even after the shot the doctor had given him.

         As unromantic as it sounds, I'm afraid, Harry and I spent the second night of our honeymoon in the ship’s hospital.

         The next day, the sun was shining and a purser delivered some clothes from one of the elegant clothing shops on board. I dressed and went out, leaving Harry still sleeping. The fresh air at sea is like nowhere else. I flung back my arms and breathed it in deeply.

         The smells of coffee and food drew me towards the Vista Lounge. Like a puppet cartoon, I followed the fragrance, my stomach rumbling like an old appliance.

         A cute little boy passed by with his family. He was eating a banana and waved to me. I smiled and waved back. I should have been looking where I was going. The banana peel he'd thrown on the deck caught me off guard.

         The same wheel chair that they'd hauled Harry off in last night, came to get me, although a different medic was pushing it. He examined my leg, which seemed to be going in two different directions and then called for a stretcher.

         And so without any breakfast, I ended up on the bed next to Harry, my leg in a cast from hip to ankle. Harry and I smiled at each other, and we reached out our hands to join them.

         “Isn’t that cute,” said the nurse who’d slipped into the room unnoticed.

         Harry and I both blushed, but we didn’t let go. Instead we laughed and told her that we were on our honeymoon.

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