The day of our wedding no one watched the news or even a weather report. Not our parents, not our friends, and certainly not us. It wasn’t until we were stocking up on magazines and chewing gum in the Atlanta airport 30 minutes from embarking on our honeymoon that we saw a weather report.
A category 4 hurricane was heading straight to Belize.
Married 13 hours and the adventure begins. It won’t be that bad, we tried to convince ourselves. But then we saw him: America’s favorite weatherman, Jim Cantore. I knew his face well from watching wall-to-wall hurricane coverage on The Weather Channel when I lived in Florida. And I knew he was NOT the person you wanted on your honeymoon flight. We boarded our plane with 11 others, half of which made up a Weather Channel crew.
Jim Cantore from The Weather Channel
“I’m a big fan,” I told Jim. He posed for a photo and then asked what the heck we were doing on this plane. We told him it was our honeymoon.
“You should have gone to Charleston,” he said matter-of-factly.
Thankfully, we didn’t listen to Jim and headed off to Belize anyway. The hurricane scare forced our travel agency to send us on a detour to Gautamala for a couple of days, but then the storm turned south and the trip went on as planned. Where we scared? No. Were we glad the hurricane didn’t hit us? You better Belize it.