While I was at the hotel bar waiting for her to come down (she's always running late), I spoke with Bob the barkeep.
Another American, we chatted up the Yankees, our shitty economy and (if you can imagine such a thing) the merits of a good 'ol fashioned Milwaukee brew.
It didn't take long to notice the vast amount of gorgeous locals frequenting the bar so I asked Bob if all native women were so beautiful.
"Hey man, I thought you were here on your honeymoon..." he answered with that all-knowing guy wink.
By the time I realized my bride was standing behind me, the words were already coming out quicker than I could stop them as I proclaimed, "Shit man, she may own my heart, but not my eyes."
Um, yeah, I didn't get laid that night or on that trip.