Year after year, he promised that we would go, but life always seemed to get in the way—work obligations, family matters, and an endless parade of excuses.
“I’m sorry, Darling,” he would say. “It’s just that something came up at the office, and I have to attend to it.”
But then, when Tom forgot our 10th wedding anniversary, something inside me snapped.
“I have to leave town for the week,” he said while shaving. “It’s for work. We’re prospecting new clients.”
I had hoped that Tom would have told me to pack my bags and get ready to celebrate our romantic milestone—yet, it slipped his mind entirely.
Enough was enough.
I wasn’t about to be a footnote in my own love story.
So, I called my best friend, Jenny.
“We’re going away for my wedding anniversary!” I said as she answered the call.
“What?” she asked, surprised by my words, I could hear her slurping on her usual smoothie.
“Tom would hate that!”
I explained to her that Tom had to be on a business trip and that I was tired of being alone.
“Pack your bags, Jen,” I told her.
I went straight to my closet and began to pack my bags. I needed this. I needed a moment to myself. I got onto my laptop and booked a hotel. This weekend was going to be a weekend to heal, laugh, and forget the sting of neglect.
The hotel Tom had often raved about was our first stop.
As we stepped into the lobby—a place he described right down to the gilded frames on the walls—my heart raced with anticipation and a twinge of sadness.
I was happy to be here with my best friend, sure. But being with Tom would have made it so much better, with memories that would have lasted a lifetime.
“Let’s check-in and leave our bags,” Jenny said. “And then get some fish and chips from that place you’ve been talking about for the past hour.”
And then I heard it.
Tom’s laugh.
I looked up, across the room, and there he was. My husband, standing across the lobby with his arm wrapped around a woman who was decidedly not me.
The scene was like a punch to the gut. There he was, living our dream with someone else.
My first instinct was to storm across the lobby and confront them. But anger gave way to a colder, sharper strategy.
Ten years of marriage for this? This was Tom’s important business trip?
Sure.
I pulled out my phone and started filming them discreetly, capturing their intimate laughs, their shared glances—all the things that should have been mine.
“Are you okay, Eliza?” Jenny asked me, oblivious to the scene I had just witnessed.
“Look,” I said, pointing at Tom.
Jenny clasped her hands to her mouth and gasped.
Feeling emboldened, I approached the reception desk.
“I’m Mrs. Cooper,” I said. “You’ll see my husband checked in as Tom Cooper? It’s our anniversary weekend, and I wanted to surprise my husband.”
The woman behind the counter bought it. She beamed at me and told me there would be complimentary couple massages if I could prove we were married.
And then, she gave me the key to his room.
I went in and filmed everything—their clothes strewn about, the champagne on ice, the unmistakable aura of a romantic getaway.
With Jenny’s encouragement, I took to the streets of Bellport. We showed the footage to anyone willing to watch it.
“What do you think of a man who promises a romantic weekend to his wife and then takes his mistress instead?” I asked the locals.
Jenny filmed all their reactions while I spoke. People were shocked, and hurt on my behalf; some were even empathetic.
And as I met more people, it turned out that people didn’t just disapprove of Tom—they shared their stories of betrayal, connecting with my own pain.
Jenny and I went back to our room and ordered room service while she whizzed away on her laptop, turning our footage into a short film.
Forgotten Promises: A Bellport Betrayal.
Then, we uploaded it online—tagging Tom on Facebook.
It went viral overnight. And as the support began to pour in, so did the outrage towards Tom.
When Tom saw the video, he called me, furious.
“Eliza!” he barked. “Take it down! This isn’t fair!”
“It’s too late, Tom,” I replied coolly. “It’s out there now, and it’s the truth.”
Tom went on, airing his grievances through the phone.
“Why doesn’t he just come and find you?” Jenny asked. “We’re in the same hotel.”
I didn’t understand that either. But Tom seemed perfectly fine spending time with his mistress. I knew she was there with him—probably comforting him while he was distressed by my actions.
“I don’t know,” I replied to Jenny.
I cut the call, and Jenny and I took to the streets, ready to eat our feelings away in ice cream.
As we were walking, out of the blue, a travel company reached out to me. They had seen our short film and offered me a job in creating “Truthful Travelogues.”
“You’ll just have to do exactly what you did for your short film,” a woman named Natasha told me. “We’ll send you a laptop so that you can edit on there, too.”
Suddenly, I was more than just another scorned wife who had to suffer in silence and wait to be acknowledged by her husband. Now, I was a storyteller, weaving narratives of authenticity in beautiful locales.
And on the other hand—Tom’s life began to crumble. His professional image soured as colleagues and clients questioned his integrity.
That trip he took to Bellport, meant to be hidden away like a secret, became his public undoing.
His car was even egged by some of the kids who lived on our street—something that he deserved.
Shortly after I returned home, I packed all my belongings and moved in with Jenny. She was single and my constant support—there was nobody else I wanted to reinvent myself with.
Looking back, the trip to Bellport was nothing like I had imagined it would be. Initially, I had wanted it to be a romantic escape with my husband, but then it had turned into a girls’ weekend.
Only for it to become an unraveling of my marriage.
Even now, I’m not completely sure that my actions were the greatest, but at the same time—I needed to do it. I needed to expose Tom for the liar that he was.
And in the end, I needed to empower myself again. I couldn’t keep living in the shadow of Tom’s job and deceit.
Now, I have to try and rebuild my life as a newly single woman ready to get what she deserves.
What would you have done?
Woman Turns Boeing Plane Into Fully Functional Home
Buses, small houses, and shipping containers have all seen a surge in appeal as potential building materials for one-of-a-kind dwellings.
These alternatives to standard lodgings offer the same level of comfort at a fraction of the price and with a wide range of personalization options.
But Jo Ann Ussery made her own unique house long before it was cool.
She bought a decommissioned Boeing 727 and transformed it into a lavish mansion.
(video of the plane can be found below)
One-of-a-kind housing
In 1993, Ussery’s home in Benoit, Mississippi was destroyed, marking the beginning of her journey.
Her husband had recently passed away, so she and her two kids needed a place to live but had very little money.
She had hoped that getting a trailer would solve all of her issues, but she soon discovered that she couldn’t afford a house that was big enough to accommodate her family of three.
Ussery’s brother-in-law, Bob, is an air traffic controller and proposed that they try living on an airplane.
Ussery was receptive to the concept, so he went to examine a Boeing 727 that was about to be broken up for parts.
She fell in love at first sight, and the price, including shipping, was only $2,000.
Ussery gave her Boeing 727 the moniker “Little Trump” after learning that Donald Trump also had a private Boeing 727.
She jumped right into her expensive and time-consuming home improvements.
Major refurbishment
She put in less than $30,000 (around $60,000 in today’s money) on the makeover.
She needed to make sure it stayed put in its current location while she worked on the inside.
Ussery made use of the lake that was already present on her property by parking the plane such that the nose pointed out over the water. Because of this particular reason, a substantial amount of concrete was used to secure the tail. She then started demolishing the nearly 1,500 square foot interior.
The plane measures 138 feet in length and has 76 windows.
The windows did not open, as is standard on commercial planes, but that was not a problem on the Ussery because the plane was equipped with air conditioning.
She upgraded the insulation and laid new flooring as well. What exactly from the original 727 has been preserved?
Having only one airplane lavatory and the overhead bins to store your belongings is a brilliant answer to the problem of limited space.
Interior features
Ussery was able to move on to the finer touches and extra comforts after the major renovations were finished.
There were three bedrooms, a living area, a kitchen, and even a laundry room in the updated plane.
It also had an oven and a phone in addition to the washer and dryer.
What Ussery did with the cockpit looking out over the lake was unquestionably the best improvement.
She renovated it into a master bathroom fit for a king, complete with a soaking tub.
She planned the room’s layout so that its occupants would feel as though they were floating in midair.
Most notably, Ussery did all the remodeling work by herself.
Between 1995 until 1999, she called her converted jet home before deciding to open it to the world as a museum.
It was being transported a short distance when it tragically fell off the carriage and was destroyed.
It’s a good thing we have these breathtaking snapshots below:
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