Michael S. Rose suggests a place to honeymoon:
Two days after I was married in January of 1994, my bride and I left our hometown of Cincinnati for New England. I was in between semesters in my first year of graduate school. With all our belongings stuffed into a rented powder-blue Taurus Wagon, we drove 15 hours only to be greeted in Providence, Rhode Island, by four feet of snow left behind several days earlier by one of the decade’s fiercest blizzards.
It was 1:30 in the morning, dark, and 13 degrees when we unloaded the bulk of our worldly possessions into our three-room, third floor apartment. Fortunately, the snow plows and sidewalk shovellers had already finished their work.