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My honeymoon will be a lot like rehab
As I wrote this column before heading off to Los Cabos, Mexico for my honeymoon, I noticed that many aspects of this trip will have striking resemblances to things I’ve seen on E!.
You can’t watch five minutes of that channel without hearing about Lindsay Lohan’s most recent trip to rehab, and as I compare those stories to my vacation this week, I notice there’s quite a bit in common.
My honeymoon will be very much like a stint at rehab designed to break me of my one addiction: Mountain Dew.
When we told people we were going to Mexico following our wedding, about half of our friends reminded us not to drink the water. No problem. I’m not going to an all-inclusive resort to drink water. But there won’t be any Mountain Dews for the times I want to take a break from beer – like breakfast. I’m sure you’re thinking “Big deal.” Maybe that’s true for you, but I’m an addict.
Mountain Dew is like my meth: I need it every day and it’s hard on my teeth.
I would never break into someone’s car for spare change if I was jonesing bad enough, but it’s not a joke that I need the green stuff every day. Though the caffeine does nothing for me in “small” doses, my head eventually aches without it. It’s so appealing after meals, much like a cigarette is for a smoker, and I find myself craving some Dew about the same times each day.
I heard the story about the kids in Appalachia whose parents are so poor they give them Mountain Dew instead of milk or formula, and I thought, “What’s the problem?” That sounds great. Sure, those kids don’t have teeth at the moment, but their permanent ones will come in eventually.
As you can see, Pepsi’s got me hooked on its product. But this week, I’ll be going without it, and the circumstances make me feel like I’m going there to get clean.
When you hear about Lohan’s aforementioned trips to rehab, you always see her coming or going at a luxurious facility where the average person would enjoy visiting just to hang out. That’s the type of place I will be, surrounded by beach and palm trees. Everything from cooking to cleaning will be done for me to help me relax and make my stay as comfortable as possible.
I can do or have anything I want, whenever I want – except Mountain Dew. There’s always a catch.
And much like a rehab facility, I won’t really be able to leave the resort. Technically, I’m free to come and go as I please. But I’m not about to go scouring Mexico alone for some Rocío de la Montaña, because while I think I know how to correctly say the name of my favorite drink, I don’t know how to say “Help, I’m being kidnapped!”.
So I’ll just be forced to go without the good stuff this week. By the time you read this, I will be Dewless for four days, baking in the Mexican sun but drenched in a cold sweat.
Maybe this week will be enough for me to kick the habit. Perhaps I can come back home able to refrain from drinking Dew for a day or two without an adverse reaction – you know, like a normal person does. But that’s highly unlikely. This addiction is years in the making, and I don’t think it can be vanquished during a week south of the border.
That’s OK, though. If maintaining my dependency means I get to return to a place like the one I’ll be visiting this week, I’m all for it.
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