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From the foreign desk of J. Kenneth Hegan, Esquire:

Attention: Matthew Mallon
Editor, Vancouver magazine

Dude! I'm currently naked in a beach chair on the sizzling Mayan Riviera. My freckled feet are making angels in the bright white sand. The warm Caribbean breeze is caressing my nipples. My luscious Unnamed Bride is getting a Mayan Clay Massage on the deck of our oceanview jungle villa. And for the last half-hour, I've watched three topless Italian hotties splash each other in the emerald-green surf. Whoa! Now they're rolling around on the sand and snapping photos of each other's breasts!

The best part? I'm not paying for any of this. Our entire honeymoon is sponsored by Cabanas Copal, surely the finest clothing-optional eco-hotel in the known universe. The super-friendly owners, Holly and Eduardo, are giving us:

>> Free spa services and dinners delivered to our private moonlit terrace.
>>A king-size bed, hardwood floors and a bathtub made from a hollowed out tree trunk.
>> Free jungle tour, snorkel gear, sea kayak and yoga classes attended by 90 percent women (who are all bendy-Wendys). The other 10 percent are long-haired hippie boys, and if you squint your eyes, they look good, too.

I had to decline the complimentary "cosmic wedding renewal ceremony, a Mayan ritual of love." Lovely offer, but two nuptials in one week would've killed me. We've just celebrated our eight-day anniversary and I'm still emotionally jangled.

Did I tell you about my wife's magical first step? When she said "I do," my dad unveiled a white footstool he'd made so my petite bride could kiss me eye-toeye. Beautiful surprise, no? Unfortunately there was a noisy air conditioner so the crowd didn't hear our vows. So we repeated our vows at the Rowing Club reception. When I leaned on the podium, wiped my eyes and said, "I knew I wanted to marry you within days of our first kiss," everyone started crying, toasting and doing The Wave around the room. Amazing. It was like we were at a Brazilian soccer game!

What a bender. My buddies had so much fun drinking delicious 42 Below Vodka, they started hitting on my bride and her aunt. Out on the deck, our actress friend sucked back shots of tequila then hucked her shot glasses at passing yachts (to enormous applause). Another buddy drank too many martinis, tried to kiss my mother, staggered outside to upchuck in pitch-black Stanley Park, then miraculously hailed a taxi while peeing against a tree.

Everyone came back to our apartment for drinks, and I proudly reaffirmed my title as World's Greatest Wingman. The proof: I helped two gay friends hook up at our wedding, which was 96.5 percent heterosexual-attended. They were in such a hurry to split, they ditched full glasses of (Calona Vineyards) wine, climbed out a window and fled down the fire escape.

Good times! And now I'm climbing into Cabanas Copal's flotation tank. It's fantastic, Matthew. You lie in their soundproof Dream Cave, close your eyes and listen to a soothing recording of an ESL self-empowerment speaker. As you drift into "lucid dreams" (a.k.a. "luthid drehms"), your troubles melt away, along with nagging questions like, Is this the end of the scam? Or can I talk my way into getting a sponsored house, kids and death?

Basting away in Margaritaville,

Ken Hegan
www.voiceoftreason.net

P.S. Get married and get down here. The best thing about Mayan honeymoons is that your wife gets a deep tan. If you squint your eyes, it's like having two wives in one!

To view Cabanas Copal online, click here