At the aiport an Indian man spoke to me in broken english, assuring me he'd take care of my bag. I didn't understand the first three times, but he wanted me to openly acknowledge this. I nodded something and slipped past him, heading for the gates.

There was a long line of casually annoyed middle-aged Americans, anxiously waiting on one foot then the other. I thought it might have been for the bathroom, but they were all headed toward a security checkpoint. Gone were the old women casually mumbling to themselves and bored looking men of color. On both sides of the x-ray machine stood thick, beefy slabs of crew-cut men, arms folded semi-casually. The people were so solemn, almost eastern European. I was afraid they'd pull me over to randomly frisk me here or at the gate...but someone else in front of me always went. They pulled over children.

The flight itself was uneventful, I reading about the Free-Masons as some high-strung businesswoman next to me tried her best at looking flustered, annoyed and relaxed simultaneously. Throwing myself into St. Louis I noticed the place was familiar. These were old stomping grounds, good Italian eats and cheap mexican food if I knew the stalls right.

After picking up my bags I tried finding where metrolink was. Colleen would be waiting there. I'd known her for five years but this'd be the first time meeting her face to face. Questions kept running through my mind: what did her voice really sound like, what she'd think of me in person, if this trip would go well and not end in the familiar disasters of meeting trips from before?

I rounded a corner looked up onto this second story alcove. Starring down was a waifish young woman in a tight red t-shirt, mouth pressing down like she was concentrating on something. She noticed me and starred for a few moments. I was pretty sure it was her. She moved back into place and I climbed up an escalator, still a bit unsure as I approached. I said her name. She turned around and it was then I first saw her smile. Her cheeks dimpled into deep embellished shallows, accented by thousands of tiny lines. It was beautiful, magnificent and absolutely beautiful.

We soon found Daniel, a 16 year old accomplice that kept talking about singing vegetables, bad prog rock and had a penchant for amusing us. I couldn't get out of this shocked stupefied state. Sitting right next to me was the girl I'd listened to for so many years. I remembered her nearly crying or smiling through the phone as I looked out over St. Louis. But there she was, this physical embodiment of some hope, some person who had helped me out when I was lost.

I can't describe it very well. I could tangibly feel how special she was to me. It wasn't some abstract, possibly delusional fantasy anymore. It was real...and she was too.

We were both incredibly nervous, but that changed...

previous - next