This past weekend, The Beau and I went to a St. Patrick’s Day celebration, which really just ended up being a massive binge drinking fest. Wait, isn’t that what St. Patrick’s Day is anyway?
Actually, it was pretty fun with bad carnival food (OMG funnel cakes!), Celtic bands playing, DJs, kilt salesmen (yeah… I’m dating a guy who already owns a skirt), and drinking games (cornhole!). Oh, and lines. Everywhere there were lines. Lines for beer. Lines for liquor. Lines for food. Lines for cornhole. But the lines for the bathroom were the worst!
I mean, okay, so by the time you finished your beer and got in line again for another, you were pretty much sober once you got your refill. While a bit frustrating for many people, it wasn’t the worst thing. Imagine what happens when you get in line for the bathroom……. Whoops.
Either way, The Beau and I had a lot of fun (and a lot of beer) while standing in line all day. In fact, I wouldn’t have had a problem with standing in line with hundreds of people all day, if I weren’t so awkward and wasn’t a magnet for coincidences. But as I previously pointed out in a number of posts, Big City, USA isn’t really that big after all (here, here, here, and here).
Which I felt acutely when, while standing in one of these massive mob lines to get another beer, I ran into one of the guys I had previously gone out with before The Beau. And not just any guy, either. This guy, to be specific. If you’re too lazy to reread that blog post, it was the story of a perfect first date with I guy I was then convinced I could have a future with because of how well the first date went. (Again, this was before I met The Beau.)
So here’s what happened: I was winding my way out of the mob lines after receiving my refill when I noticed him. Since I’d already had a couple beers, I might have stared a little bit harder than I should have just to make sure it was him (oh, it was him alright). But my extra-long eye contact forced him into greeting me (either because he recognized me or because I made prolonged eye contact; I will never know).
Either way, he saw me, cocked his head awkwardly and said hello with a little finger wave as if he knew me but couldn’t place where he knew me from. (In all fairness, you generally have your eyes closed while making out, so he didn’t really spend the whole date gazing longingly into my eyes.)
I said hi back and got kind of awkward and walked away quickly, downed my beer and immediately confessed the whole story to The Beau because I felt so guilty about making eye contact with a guy I’d made out with before I’d even met The Beau in person.
But seriously… Of all the beer lines in all towns in all the world, he walked into mine. And I walked away. What can I say? I found someone a million times better.