How I Met My Wife, Part 1:
"You definitely don't know that song. No way. You're B.S.ing me."
"I do. You want me to sing it?"
There was no way she knew that song. No way. Then again, it had been a pretty remarkable afternoon already.
Rewind 4 hours:
I was standing at the mvyradio T-shirt table. It was the safest place to be, as the crowd poured in to the mvyradio Big Chili Contest.
The station holds this event every year. Ostensibly, it is an event to taste different Chili recipes. But in reality, it's just a good excuse to get rip-roaring drunk on a Saturday morning/afternoon in the middle of winter.
People come from off-Island in droves, to blow off some steam, dance up a storm and maybe, if the mood strikes them, vote for their favorite chili.
I was standing at the mvyradio T-shirt table when the crowd parted and a small whirlwind of girls popped forth.
"I'm here to see my T-shirt."
As a side contest to the Best Chili categories, we also have a T-shirt design contest. Artists near and far would send us their interpretations of the event, and a few days beforehand, we'd get the winning design printed up on a handful of shirts.
Standing in front of me, wearing sunglasses in her hair (on a cold cloudy winter day), was this year's winning designer, a woman with the improbable name of Tabitha Agneta.
She and her friends chatted with me for a few minutes, and then disappeared into the crowd.
An hour or so later, I found myself on the far, far side of the venue, tasting some chili, when I bumped into her again.
We talked more, about family and hometowns and jobs. Nothing earth-shattering, but there was a spark. We parted again.
An hour or so later, there she was at the bar. This time we talked baseball. The Red Sox. Nomar (this was the winter before he was traded).
I disappeared one last time, to get on stage and to participate in the Chili Award ceremonies.
And that's really the last time I ever left her.
When I found her (after the Horses Ass-shaped Chili Trophies were handed out), we talked about music, and she mentioned Jeff Buckley, who's album "Grace" is practically like going to church for me.
She asked me about my favorite band, and I said that she'd probably never heard of them.
"I know The Replacements," she claimed. Which seemed like B.S.
The only people I knew who liked The Replacements were guys who'd grown from awkward teen boys, to now be awkward young men. Good looking girls never knew who The Replacements were.
"No you don't," I said. "Name one of their songs."
"'Waitress In The Sky.' Do you want me to sing it?"
Hell yeah I did.
She sang it. She knew it. And I know on paper that sounds like a pretty tenuous thread to hang a relationship on. But if you were there, you would have known, too.
We left the mvyradio Big Chili Contest together, and even though she physically left the Island at the end of the weekend, from that point on, we've always been together, forever---spiritually, emotionally, psychically.
Starting 7 years ago today.
Happy Anniversary, my lovely wife!
No comments:
Post a Comment