So I flew from the other side of the world (Australia) to Israel. It took me three days. I had two overnight stopovers and not a single personal TV the entire journey. Torture. Seriously, am considering writing to the UN about it.
On my way I stopped overnight in Korea. In the country of M*A*S*H I got married.
Psych Mum. Totally got you there.
Stam.
What actually happened was, that while waiting in line for customs, a ridiculously tall and muscularly and tanned and brave American soldier (on his way to abuse human rights) was standing in line in front of me. He noticed that I looked a little bit lost (and presumably adorable as well). So he said "Well, howdy darlin'. Can I help ya at all ma'am?" (jk - I don't remember what he said but it was probably along those lines - assuming he's a walking cliche). To which I batted my eyelashes and explained my lost situation in a breathy Marilyn Munroe-esque voice.
At the same time the Korean customs officials noticed Soldier Boy (SB) and presumably the many weapons in his bag and ushered him off to be searched. They also concluded that I was SB's wife and send me along with him to have my stuff trifled through. Lucky me.
You may be concerned but you needn't be. SB and myself explained in very slow English and many hand gestures that we were actually strangers and not married. Hence they should set me free. Which they promptly did. Woot woot.
But sadly I shall never see my dear SB again. Well, until he's in a news report for violating the Geneva Convention.
And that is the story of my brief/non-existent marriage to SB.
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