Toll Booths

If it's random that you're after. You've come to the right place. This weekend has been, for lack of a more eloquent word, bizarre. It has been intriguing and tiring and fun and hard to wrap my brain around. I'm not even sure how to explain it all. I'll try.

It begins on Friday. Not the evening even, the daytime. I went into work on Friday ready to graduate another day class. I was excited. It's been almost a year since I began working here. It felt good. It felt like an accomplishment. I've progressed far in my year and I hope it gets better. I may complain about work, i may lament about the problems. I may get upset at certain things, but I'm glad I'm there. I'm especially happy teaching. It feels right.

So Friday was a graduation. It was a cook out and some wiffle ball. It was fun and relaxing and not relaxing. My deadline was looming and I knew that it would be waiting for me when I sat down at my desk on Monday morning. I wouldn't change anything about this weekend. Starting with Friday.

Friday night was Melissa Ferrick in Northampton. I will not begin to attempt to explain the practically religious experience I had while watching her play. She is exquisite. Her music is beyond words to me. I understand my friend's obsession with her. I wouldn't take my eyes off of the stage or Melissa the entire time. I didn't want to risk something she did with her guitar, or her overly-animated legs and feet as she bodily conducted herself into chord changes and finger patterns and tunings and grace notes. I am in awe.

Then Saturday morning. "I'm going into work" turned into "I'm going to get a small amount of relaxation in this morning and leave a bit earlier for NH than I planned." My deadline still loomed and I shrugged. So I stayed home, played a game, organized some of my life and my finances and packed for the weekend. I left at 12 or so. I had no idea what I was in for.

I had an uneventful drive to Katwoman's house. I met her parents and had lunch. We went out to visit a friend of hers, we went to dinner, we went to a movie (Sahara, good flick). We talked and talked and laughed. She smiled. I can see it, burned there behind my eyelids. I remembered that she was lovely. I had forgotten how much so.

We talked about everything. We talked about the past and the future and looked at pictures and tried to catch up on three years of life. It was fun. It was intriguing and enlightening. I hope that her Malden boy works out. She deserves happiness and love and flowers and candle-lit dinners.

We crashed early. The next morning (Sunday morning) I got up, quickly got ready and assembled my stuff. Breakfast awaited me and I thanked Katwoman's parents in depth for the hospitality. They need not have done anything, I was already staying in the house. They did though, and my appreciation abounds. She led me out of her winding neighborhood and into Manchester. I met up with a friend of mine after finding out that I had an hour to kill. We went to a local diner, had some food (breakfast number 2) and did a little catch up. I'm always so happy when i see her. She keeps me real, and I always forget that until i see her again.

Then I followed friends to Maine. To a wedding. To a beautiful house in the middle of nowhere. I saw friends I haven't spent time with in a long while. BioGeek got married. They are happy and I'm happy for them. The wedding was super-extremely-informal. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I lamented a couple of times about my plight. The plight of the nice guy destined to be single because girls all want bad boys to treat them bad and force them into treating them right or something. Though I did meet two people, girls, women, females and we did dance a part of the twilight away because none of the other guys (Save for one, though i didn't actually ever meet him) would dance. I was danced with, danced around, twirling two girls at once, and smiling. They were both beautiful, both enjoying my making a fool of myself. One is far and young, the other taken. But I had to stay. I had to experience that. Then I left, preparing for the long drive home.

Then the toll booth.

The long ride on the highway often shows recurring vehicles. None so recurring as the Jeep Liberty that I saw throughout my drive. Around 45 minutes before home, there is a toll. As I pulled up, handing the 50 cents to the booth person, he handed me something saying "She said to give this to you." I thanked him, confused.

It was a phone number with a simple message atop the note. "Call me." I smiled at the randomness, at the daring that it took to do something like that. And, naturally, wanting to see how far random could take me this evening, I called.

We talked the entire ride home. Her in one ear, asking questions telling stories, and the lords of random in the other laughing. Didn't I just say at the wedding how hard it is to meet people? People,
"just friends" types and "more than friends" types, are not so easy to meet as they once were in high school and college. But here I was, on the phone with a total stranger, sharing a bit of my life. I loved it.

That was the best toll I ever paid.