Ballgames

The editor sent an email to all of us: we need you to start submitting pictures during the game, not after. Get them in quick. Our clients are looking for this live coverage. But the internet at the stadium is bad; you are lucky to have any connection and forget about sending 10-30 high resolution images.

I had used this bar across the street, in past years, as a place to wait out traffic with a cold one. It was never too crowded, the beer was delicious, and every once in a while you'd meet some cool people to share ideas with. This year, I found that I could submit my images from this bar, since the internet connection was pretty good, the beer still cold and delicious. My 2nd night of doing this, I finish my edit, and as I near the bottom of my glass of beer, in comes this woman.

I watch her enthralled. She flaunts her indifference to these surroundings. She asks aloud "What are we doing here?" apparently turned off by the small size of the crowd. She's with a crowd of as many people as there were in the bar before she got there. I yell something in response to her query, but chained to my computer and equipment, I do not approach her. She does not hear me or respond. I'd wait for my spine to tingle, indicating I might have come up with something to tell her. I must have come up with something; I started walking towards her. She sees me, well not me, but a man looking at her with fire in his eyes.

We recognize each other at the exact same instant; well we know each others names anyway. Neither of us are the same people who shared eye contact those years ago in Atlanta. We are new chicks, chickens, born of shells of those encumbered souls. She's with her work friends; I'm working. The rest of our priorities fall away and we have great conversation and I am introduced to her co workers. They offer to 'save' her from me. "FUCK OFF" is her basic response, and she continues to talk to me. Go home coworkers, we're good here.

Two beers more than I'd planned, though delicious and worth much more than the $4 each they cost before a tip, we decide that since it's a Wednesday, we should probably wrap things up. We struggle to exchange numbers for some reason, but it's accomplished. "Carolyn's digits" reads hers. I confirm that I have them and I put the phone in the pocket. I grab the equipment, and offer to walk her to her car, with a co-worker along for the ride (another female). We continue to joke around.

"I am having the hardest time NOT making out with you right now" she exclaims as we begin the walk. I can't believe this. I agree with her, though I was having no problem holding back. Not due to any lack of desire, but due to my inability generally to close any sort of deal on the first night.

We arrive at her car. Her coworker does not seem to be in a hurry or need a particular level of attention. I offer a kiss, she accepts. I am unhappy with my effort, and offer one more. Two kisses. I then walk away, only to return and ask for a ride to my car, which is several blocks back the other way.

A few texts are exchanged. The moon hangs beautifully, and I ask her to look at it. "Well you might be right bout the moon, and I have to admit I'm a little smitten having run into you. And i yet somehow feel like our night has been cut short. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow." A few hours later, I keep waking up thinking about the view I had down the front of her shirt earlier that night. "Yes" I exclaim uncontrollably as I jolt awake from sleep. I grab my phone to send her one more message "It's late, so sorry, but I want to write to tell you that I'm lying here buzzing happy and it feels cool. Sleep will be cool now." I get a smily in return and I drift off to a new place, population unknown, elevation 20 million feet.