How I Met Your Mother Part 1

For the short version, read the entry called "The Yankee & the Belle". This is the long version. Or at least the long version as my swiss-cheese memory can remember.

I've known my best friend Steve since high school. Melissa has known him since College. They went to the University of Arkansas, I spent that time doing, oh, let's see, absolutely nothing. I worked for minimum wage and hung out with my other friends, the ones who didn't go off to make something of their lives. I got kicked out of my house. I got more crap jobs. Along the way, I got married and divorced. All this time I had heard stories of his friend from school named Melissa. (Ok, that's the backstory. At some point I'll go into more detail, but for the purposes of this tale, that's all you need to know.)

One day in 2004 I get a call from Steve saying his friend from school named Melissa ("Yes, Kris, I told you about her, about a million times." "Yes, I'm sure I did." "Positive." "No, there were no sheep, damn you.") was going to be visiting him at his home in Atlanta for her divorce party and her birthday, and why don't I come down too to meet her? I was skeptical about the whole thing. Not that Melissa was going to be there, but the whole "meeting her" thing. I was never good at meeting people. Until I get to know you, I'm pretty damn shy. Plus, I wasn't even divorced a year yet myself. I thought about it and figured, what the hell, at worst I'll get a nice weekend with my friends.

I almost blew it. We all met at the airport, and I was stunned at how beautiful she was. And considering I have slight self-esteem issues, I just thought, "Oh, there is no way. She isn't even going to look at me." So I spent the weekend visiting with my friends, and not talking to Melissa. I just couldn't get the courage to do it, nor did I think it would do any good anyway.

The day we're scheduled to both fly out, Steve takes me aside and essentially calls me an idiot. Actually, strike essentially. I'm pretty sure he called me an idiot. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was going to walk Melissa to her gate and talk to her. He said if the discussion doesn't go well, I can just say good bye and go to my gate. I thought Ok, what can I lose? If I totally screw this up, I don't have to spend the rest of the weekend avoiding her disappointing glances.

We walked to my gate, which turned out to be the closer of the two. We talked. I thought I held my own, so I asked Melissa if she wanted to wait with me until the first flight left. Hot damn, she said yes! For the next hour, we sat together, talking as if we had known each other for years. I was amazed at the way I was able to talk to her, especially considering the way I hadn't been able to talk to her the entire weekend.

When it came time to leave, I did what I always did with people I don't know that well. I held out my hand. Melissa looked at it as if I were trying to hand her a rotten fish. She said, "In the South we hug." So here's the score: I fly down to Georgia to meet a beautiful woman, don't talk to her the entire weekend, and she is about to hug me. I considered myself pretty damn lucky.

Stay tuned for Part 2, when AT&T learns to hate the terms of my "unlimited long distance" plan.