On a visit to my wife’s native England for our honeymoon, we arrived at London’s Gatwick Airport. Tania headed for the British passport control line while I, an American, waited in the foreigners’ line. When my turn came, the customs officer asked me the purpose of my visit.
“Pleasure,” I replied. “I’m on my honeymoon.”
The officer looked first to one side of me, then the other. “That’s very interesting, sir,” he said as he stamped my passport. “Most men bring their wives with them.”
