The Tap Room, July 2000. His opening line: Our football team kicked your team's ass last year.
Blunt but it was an in. Turns out she knew football.
And sarcasm.
Introductions.
Flirting, teasing, beers.
More conversation, more beers.
Hey, my friends and I are heading over to Maxwell's. Come with?
Sure.
More bonding over making fun of ABBA-cadabra, the Abba cover band/magic revue.
Breakfast at Causeway's Diner at 3 am.
End of the night. Numbers exchanged. Frequent road trips for the rest of the summer.
Senior year: long distance. Then together in Charlotte, Atlanta, Chicago and then Charlotte again.
Marriage. No kids.
But happy.
And now? Ten years to the day since the night they first met. And so, back to Shiner's Cove.
New Prius instead of a second-hand Camry; iPod playlists instead of CD mixes; onboard navigation system instead of printouts from Mapquest.
Songs they hadn't listened to since their wedding. And before that, not since college.
Familiar roads. Fewer trees, more stores.
Shiner's Cove. Busier.
I'll bet ABBA-cadabra are in town.
God, can you imagine?
The Tap Room: Now a Friday's.
Maxwell's: Home Depot.
Causeway's Diner: boarded up.
Dinner and drinks at a quiet place on the beach. Clean hotel room instead of friends' couches; an early rise instead of hangovers.
Down the beach to the next town.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Your dad's first words to me were, "We beat you all royally in football last year." The Tap Room? good memories.
ReplyDelete