Something to Think About
Remember when?
November 2011. Field season. Championships. On the bus.
I put my costume on relatively quickly so I could get off the crowded vehicle filled with warm bodies and obnoxious banter. And I get to the front and there he is in the first row, getting dressed. He's got his red shirt on and his bibber is half up, but he's having trouble with the straps, because they're twisted and criss-crossed in all the wrong places.
He sighs, frustrated, and I stop halfway down the steps and turn around. I stand in the aisle next to him and move his hands off of the straps, indicating that I'll fix it for him. He puts his arms down and faces me, watching intently as I loosen the clasps enough to gently pull the strap over his head. Others are trying to get past me in the aisle, so I'm forced to cramp up next to him and finish fixing his bibber.
Our bodies are incredibly close, and he turns to the side. As I tighten the strap once it's fixed, I find myself a couple inches away from his neck. A mere distance that, while being dangerously close, feels like a gaping void. I suppress the urge to close the gap and step back into aisle, proud of my good deed. I flash him a cordial smile as he thanks me, and I step off the bus wondering if I would ever be that close to him again.
The answer, as I would come to see, would be "yes".
Two years ago.
Santa Clara. Elevator.
We finally made it to Santa Clara, late into the night after a violent war between the back and front of the bus on singing "Don't Stop Believin" by Journey and "Bounce" by the Jonas Brothers. Once we were checked in and given our room assignments, everyone piled into the elevator. I headed straight for the back, being closest to the elevator, and he followed suit. However, everyone else decided to pile in afterwards, and as he steps in, he is immediately pushed all the way towards my best friend and I, still facing the back. Problem is? He can no longer move.
Everyone's bags and all the warm bodies have us pinned up against the walls of the small elevator, and he and I are placed face-to-face, severely invading each other's personal space against our will. He can't turn back around, so he settles with an awkward "Uh, hey..." and we both blush because we're pressed up against each other in an elevator with 20 other people and no one in the goddamn elevator can breathe. And when the doors finally close, we don't go anywhere at all.
The elevator's lady voice rings out with an ecstatic rendition of the words "Weight Limit Exceeded". The doors immediately open to the sight of Mama Jana hissing threats at us because we haven't been there for five minutes and there are already noise complaints.
And so it began.
I put my costume on relatively quickly so I could get off the crowded vehicle filled with warm bodies and obnoxious banter. And I get to the front and there he is in the first row, getting dressed. He's got his red shirt on and his bibber is half up, but he's having trouble with the straps, because they're twisted and criss-crossed in all the wrong places.
He sighs, frustrated, and I stop halfway down the steps and turn around. I stand in the aisle next to him and move his hands off of the straps, indicating that I'll fix it for him. He puts his arms down and faces me, watching intently as I loosen the clasps enough to gently pull the strap over his head. Others are trying to get past me in the aisle, so I'm forced to cramp up next to him and finish fixing his bibber.
Our bodies are incredibly close, and he turns to the side. As I tighten the strap once it's fixed, I find myself a couple inches away from his neck. A mere distance that, while being dangerously close, feels like a gaping void. I suppress the urge to close the gap and step back into aisle, proud of my good deed. I flash him a cordial smile as he thanks me, and I step off the bus wondering if I would ever be that close to him again.
The answer, as I would come to see, would be "yes".
Two years ago.
Santa Clara. Elevator.
We finally made it to Santa Clara, late into the night after a violent war between the back and front of the bus on singing "Don't Stop Believin" by Journey and "Bounce" by the Jonas Brothers. Once we were checked in and given our room assignments, everyone piled into the elevator. I headed straight for the back, being closest to the elevator, and he followed suit. However, everyone else decided to pile in afterwards, and as he steps in, he is immediately pushed all the way towards my best friend and I, still facing the back. Problem is? He can no longer move.
Everyone's bags and all the warm bodies have us pinned up against the walls of the small elevator, and he and I are placed face-to-face, severely invading each other's personal space against our will. He can't turn back around, so he settles with an awkward "Uh, hey..." and we both blush because we're pressed up against each other in an elevator with 20 other people and no one in the goddamn elevator can breathe. And when the doors finally close, we don't go anywhere at all.
The elevator's lady voice rings out with an ecstatic rendition of the words "Weight Limit Exceeded". The doors immediately open to the sight of Mama Jana hissing threats at us because we haven't been there for five minutes and there are already noise complaints.
And so it began.
♠ ♠ ♠
Those little moments are the sparks that ignite something bigger than I could imagine.