There are wedding crashers, and then there are honeymoon crashers. Which are you?

As promised, the tale of the honeymoon crashers. I will preface this post with, though a surprise, it could have been worse. Our friends could have found us, and tormented us mercilessly for days. But no, these crashers were the more welcomeable kind and now it's a big joke between us all.

So we left PV around when we expected and headed for Manitou Beach, the "Carlsbad of Canada". It was a 3+ hour drive, so we were pretty tired when we got there. First things first, find the hotel. Well... that was easy. But figuring out how to get to our room, a little trickier. There was no night desk person, no note, nothing. So we went to the Hotel and Spa, and phoned. The manager tells us to look under the mat for our room key. How small town can one get? Thankfully it was there.

Sunday afternoon, we're walking around the quaint town, when we hear our names being called from a far. It was a couple from my church assembly, who happen to live 5 mins away. They had decided to come to the beach for the afternoon, being the weather was so great. So we visited with them a little, and went our separate ways.

Fast forward 2 days. We're sitting, have lunch by the beach. Errol spots this black Jetta with a red license plate, exclaims "oh, no" and ducks his head in just enough time to see my parents and the lady from Sunday, drive by. Well... Manitou is not a big place, so we ended up seeing them all again. Mom and dad had come there to go berry picking. They knew ahead of time that we were going there, but had made plans to come pick anyways.

Awkward. Really, whose parents crash their kids honeymoon? In all it wasn't that bad. But totally gives us license to tease them for a very, VERY long time.