Meagan was at my door around quarter past two in the afternoon, today. She used the bathroom, then opted to walk instead of driving to the spot I had in mind for our afternoon wine and chat--which suited me, since it meant we could both drink to our desires without worrying about being functional enough to operate a vehicle safely.

The walk took less than an hour, I think, and it was generally pleasant, albeit moist from the post-rain humidity. We admired the architecture I'd grown accustomed to and wandered through campus while I told her stories about our generous alumni (husband and wife) who inspired our class ring, then walked down the shopping district until we hit the end, only walking a couple dozen feet before reaching our particular hole in the wall haven. A quirky location with the most wonderful French cuisine, our restaurant had mostly bar seating and sparse, unusual decor. She ordered the special, which was a delicious-smelling curry, a fresh slice of watermelon, and some bread and cheese, and I ordered a croissant with warm goat cheese and a side salad. We held conversation effortlessly the entire time, aided a bit by the rather strong house wine and the unassuming atmosphere. It's much easier to talk, not to mention, when the servers hardly hear you when you need them to, much less when you don't. It rained a bit, while we ate, but ceased long before we left the tiny room.

After finishing our wine at leisure, we sought out (and eventually failed to locate) her dream shorts at the rather morally-unfortunate Forever 21 in the shopping district, but first stopped into a Unitarian graveyard to enjoy the tranquility (me) and history (her). The entire site was overgrown with plant life, which seemed appropriate; with so much death on the grounds, why cut away at the only life?

After all this was said and done, I showed her my favorite store in town, and she wandered it, touching everything in her path, for several minutes, finally settling on a tapestry, a friendship bracelet, and some incense to bring home for herself. Having been by just days before, I settled on a pack of ten incense sticks, one of which is burning now. Again, it rained a bit, and again it stopped, minutes before we were ready to leave.

The day was still relatively young. I joked about the beach, which is still a sore spot for myself, to be quite honest, considering that it's been raining for the past week straight...which happens to coincide with my break from work. I gave her some options, and we decided to enjoy a hookah at one of my favorite spots in the city.

She ordered her favorite dip, having been there with me before; I ordered baklava. Then, the mystery hookah came, and we smoked our way into a euphoric, giggly buzz, especially enjoying the bubble kit I'd ordered with a couple extra bucks--the outcome essentially looks like this:



Mostly, I ordered it because she said she was bad at it, and I wanted her to get better at it so we could all blow bubbles together, next time she came down for more than a day.

She was successful. In fact, she blew a bubble so big that the waitress passing by muttered, "Nice," transfixed on the giant, smoke-filled orb.

This is not what attracted Will's attention, but he came by to make conversation. I knew him from orientation--he'd just transferred in--but didn't know that he'd been hired at the restaurant just recently. I invited him to sit and all three of us smoked and talked for at least an hour. He took my phone and made sure I not only had him on Facebook and Vine, but that I also favorited every single Vine he'd ever produced. He then proceeded to ask me to come back to smoke hookah with him, sometime, and put his number in my phone, texting himself my full name so he could save my information, too.

That was easily the slickest way I have ever been asked out.

Meagan and I walked back around seven, neither of us understanding where the time went. There was a lot of laughing and general giddiness at the perfect day we'd just shared, absolutely emphasized by the hookah buzz, which was still flowing pretty strongly. I made sure we walked a different way so that she could see different houses, and we talked about Victorian architecture. By eight-thirty, she was headed out on the road towards our hometown, and I was left again with my newfound collection of film and television sources (all, of course, one hundred percent illegal...and one hundred percent useful during long, rainy breaks).

I needed a day like today. As fantastic as this city is, I sometimes let myself forget how good it feels to walk all the way across town for a good meal and some time outside.

Croissant with warm goat cheese sounds so good. I'm not even hungry (I think?) and I want that.
» randomjunk on 2013-07-04 12:06:39

Hmmm... hookah... interesting.
» Zanzibar on 2013-07-06 05:11:21

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