"You Honeymooned Where?" — The Customs Agent Who Didn’t Get It

Last year, my husband and I planned our honeymoon to Jordan — yes, Jordan. We explored Petra and floated in the Dead Sea, and it all started with a full day of research into how we could maximize Nathan’s hotel points.

I don’t remember how it happened exactly, but I stumbled across the fact that there were Marriott Hotels in both Petra and the Dead Sea — and we could cover our stay using points. Jackpot. I remembered Nathan once saying he’d always wanted to visit Petra (let’s be honest, mostly because of Indiana Jones), and the Dead Sea was a bucket list item for me. So, I asked, “What do you think about going to Jordan?”

He was immediately on board. We mapped out the hotel nights and started planning.

For context, our first international trip together was to Thailand in 2019. We both love visiting places that are vastly different from our own culture and everyday experience, so the idea of Jordan — with its ancient ruins, desert landscapes, and cultural richness — was exactly our kind of adventure.

When we told friends and family about our plans, we were met with some raised eyebrows and a lot of questions about safety — understandable, given current world events. But we did our research. According to the U.S. Department of State, Jordan had a Level 2 travel advisory, which made it safer to visit than Jamaica. We felt comfortable moving forward.

And let me tell you — it was the trip of a lifetime.

But this story isn’t about the trip itself. It’s about what happened after the trip — during our chaotic return home.

We’re talking delayed flights, overnight lounges, sprinting through airports, getting held up by security, sweating through our clothes, and late luggage arrival. After 30+ exhausting hours, we finally landed back in the U.S., ready to crawl into bed.

If you’ve traveled internationally, you know the drill when you get to customs — the standard questions: “What was the purpose of your travel?” “How long was your visit?”

At this point, I’d been wearing the same clothes for over 30 hours, was sleep-deprived, desperately needed a shower, and had zero patience left. Nathan and I were in separate lines (no, we weren’t fighting — just trying to get through as fast as possible).

The agent asked, “What was the purpose of your travel?”

“Honeymoon,” I said.

“Where’s your husband?”

Weird, but okay. I pointed to Nathan in the other line.

“Where did you travel?”

“Jordan.”

That’s when he paused, with a confused look on his face, and said, “Why Jordan for a honeymoon?”

It wasn’t the question itself — it was how he said it. It was a tone of judgment, like he couldn’t wrap his head around why we wouldn’t take a typical all-inclusive, tropical resort-style honeymoon. Like we’d done it wrong.

And that’s the thing — we hadn’t.

Not everyone’s idea of an exciting or meaningful trip involves beach chairs and piña coladas (no shade to anyone who loves that — you do you!). But for us, an adventure to Jordan — walking through the ancient paths of Petra, feeling the otherworldly sensation of floating in the Dead Sea — was the definition of incredible.

I don’t blame the agent for having a narrow view. But that moment reinforced something I deeply believe: everyone should be allowed to define what’s meaningful to them — whether that’s climbing a mountain, reading a book at home, or lounging by a beach (to be clear, I also love tropical beach trips). There’s no “right” way to experience life.

I feel sorry for the agent, honestly. Because had we not stumbled upon those hotels and said, “Hell yes, let’s go!” we would have missed out on one of the most extraordinary experiences of our lives.

So, why Jordan?

Because it was unforgettable. Because it was daring and different. Because it was us.