And Then We Got Married and Lived Happily Ever After

     It was the Fourth of July, 1986, and my fiancé Joel and I were driving in sizzling silence to The Christmas Inn in Aspen, Colorado.  We had spent a week camping in the mountains, and it had not gone well.  I'd never camped before, or by the way, since.  But we were young and in love, and Joel had some idea that if I'd just brush my teeth in the rushing water of a sparkling stream, I'd morph from the city girl I was into a nature girl.
     I was not actually a city girl--city girl implies some spunky toughness, some moxie, that in 1986 I absolutely did not have.  I was the girl who fretted about surviving the week without a blow dryer.  I was soft and spoiled, the most inexperienced sort of girl--I was a suburban girl.
     The trip was cursed from the start.  We'd flown to Denver with all our camping gear, which took a detour and did not arrive in Denver with us.  We slept in an airport hotel overnight, and I was secretly pleased.  If we'd been married already, I could have been outwardly pleased, but of course if we were married already I wouldn't have been on a camping trip.  The camping equipment arrived the next day, and we headed out of the city in our rental car.
     I'd never seen the mountains before, and I was temporarily stunned out of my peevishness by their beauty.  That first night we set up our tent, our stove and all our equipment, got cozy in our sleeping bags under the stars, and enjoyed our one successful night in the wilderness.
     The next morning Joel could not stand up.  His back had gone out from sleeping on the hard ground.  If we wanted to eat, it was up to me.  I gritted my teeth, gathered the wood, started the fire, made the food, broke down the tent, and loaded the car.  Joel was of course just well enough to provide detailed instructions as to exactly how each of these things should be done correctly.
     Instead of heading straight home, Joel convinced me that he would surely improve the next day, and we should continue to our next campsite.  He was wrong.  He remained physically incapacitated all week long, and my main goal each day was to try not to murder him.  I came close, but realized that with my very limited map reading skills I could not get back to civilization myself.
     It got so cold that I had to wear all my clothes.  I lost my hairbrush on Day Four.  Without a proper shower, I had devolved from the intriguing nature girl into something far more primal.  After a week of 24-hour togetherness and no other human contact, we had discovered everything there was to know about each other.  If we'd come home and revealed each other's secrets, no one would have blamed us for canceling the wedding.  In retrospect, however, I can think of no better preparation for a long marriage.
     To end the trip we had splurged and made reservations at a hotel in Aspen for the July 4th weekend.  The Christmas Inn marked our return to civilization, and we hoped, our return to civil relations.  It was not a fancy hotel, but we were counting on the luxuries we'd find there to save our relationship: hot water, soap, and razor blades.
     But when we arrived at The Christmas Inn, they could not find our reservation.  A manager was summoned who said, "Mr. Solomon, we were expecting you last weekend!"  Joel dug out his mangled confirmation from the glove box and saw that he had indeed reserved the room for the wrong days.  I have never understood how he got the date wrong--it's called the Fourth of July.  We had arrived in Aspen for the holiday weekend, and there was (I have to say it) No Room at the Inn.
     I won't pretend that I didn't behave badly.  After a week of digging a hole in which to defecate, I was not myself.  Joel, to his credit, recognized the severity of the situation.  He asked the manager at The Christmas Inn if he thought anyone in town had a room.  The manager assured us that Aspen had been sold out for weeks, but perhaps there was something in Snowmass, the next town over.  He helped us locate a granite countered condo.  Joel was in no position to object to the price.
     Joel and I enjoyed a fabulous weekend eating at trendy restaurants and attending the Aspen Music Festival.  We watched the fireworks in the mountains, and we rubbed elbows with various A-list celebrities who summered in Aspen.  It didn't take me more than a few years to forgive him.