Honeymoon. The word brings to mind exotic beaches, frozen drinks served in a coconut, and perfectly golden tans. It is meant to be a celebration of your new marriage, far far away from your in-laws and yet-to-be-written thank you cards. After months of meticulous planning and shelling out ridiculous amounts of cash for the wedding, the honeymoon is where you step back and take a little “us” time, and pat yourself on the back for a job well done.
My idea of the perfect honeymoon involves drinking copious amounts of margaritas on a white-sand beach somewhere in a skimpy bikini with my hubs rocking some Vilebrequins. I’m talking fresh grilled catch-of-the-day for dinner and popping Veuve every morning before we go get ocean-side massages. In-between baking myself into human toast under the sun, sex with a view of the ocean, and snorkeling, I’m not really seeing a need for much else on the agenda. Or an agenda, at all, really. Honeymoons are supposed to be sexy and fun; they’re a place to let your hair down and let loose with your significant other before you have to go home and start doing real-life married things. This is why I am so utterly confused with the Disney World honeymoon trend.
I can’t believe we are even having to talk about this right now. What are you people thinking? What possesses you to spend real dollars to take a trip on down to Florida and sweat your ass off walking around an amusement park for a week as your freaking honeymoon? You should be busy practicing making babies, not hanging out with them. Two grown-ass adults who just got married have no business going and celebrating their nuptials at Disney World. What is the draw here? Really, I need to know. After months of planning a wedding, the best you can do is go to Orlando, Florida and spend your days standing in line at Epcot, praying for an outdoor fan-mister? If you’re already going to Florida, just go to the Keys like a normal person. Seaside, even.
Don’t get me wrong, Disney World is a fun place. I’ve been a few times in my day, and it’s a decently entertaining time. But it’s a place for families and children, not a place for a young ‘n fun newlywed couple to start their life together. Do you think bringing your new husband to a Disney-themed amusement park and making the guy parade around in public wearing matching Mickey Mouse hats with you is an acceptable thing to do? Bless his heart.
Disney World ain’t cheap, either. It’s not like taking a day trip to your local Splashtown and only spending ten bucks on a pass. A 1-Day pass for Magic Kingdom at Disney is gonna set you back a cool $132 per person on peak dates. Wtf? You’re gonna pay over a Benjamin to walk for hours, sweat, chafe, stand in line, witness a child getting spanked in the public bathroom, and inevitably someone is going to wind up with diarrhea. That’s just how it goes. Call me crazy, but none of that sounds appealing to me. So what if you can get a bomb-ass smoked turkey leg by the Yosemite Sam ride? I’d rather be eating an Instagrammable fruit tray by the water.
There is nothing sexy about Disney World. There’s no way that after spending a full day earning yourself a nice case of swamp-ass you’re gonna want to head back to the hotel and jump each other’s bones. What you’re going to do is swing by the Panera Bread, get you guys a you-pick-two special (a couple pastries if you’re feeling wild), pop a couple Tylenol, and put some fresh bandaids on the blisters that have formed on the back of your heels from your trusty New Balances. Man, where do I sign up? Besides, I don’t want to see your cheesy staged photos in front of Cinderella’s castle. So overdone. When I’m creeping on the ‘gram and diving headfirst into some honeymoon photo albums on Facebook, I don’t want to see you and your hubs posing with Goofy, or photos of Mickey Mouse shaped fruits. I’m trying to see some GoPro footage of you guys snorkeling crystal waters and laying out ocean-side looking like celebs. My own parents went to Jamaica on their honeymoon, and the pictures are phenomenal. My mom got her hair braided like Bo Derek, and my dad rocked Ray-Ban Wayfarers and neon trunks with a questionably-short inseam. They literally went to a toga party. That’s how I’m trying to go out. Not surrounded by fanny-packs, man sandals, and a bunch of little babies.
By all means, you should take a trip to Disney World with your significant other at some point. Just have some self-respect and don’t go for your fucking honeymoon..