Last summer my wife read an article about couples in which one member will plan a vacation keeping the other as "in the dark" as possible. She asked if I trusted her enough to let her plan our usual pre-Thanksgiving trip for us. Sure, I said. As long as it's someplace warm.
So that's how I found myself on the airport shuttle at Newark airport the Saturday before Thanksgiving with no idea where I was headed. Another couple on the shuttle asked where we were going. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you. He doesn't know yet." was my wife's reply.
Finally we arrived curbside and the skycap asked us our destination. I glanced anticipatingly towards my wife and she announced: "San Juan, Puerto Rico!"
When we returned and she told her co-workers about our trip, one of them said "Oh, Puerto Rico, that's where Dead Dog Beach is."
What's Dead Dog Beach? Follow me over the orange gnocchi to find out.
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