How I Met My Husband and Other Zany Adventures Part 1

I never daydreamed about my perfect wedding. I thought marriage was an antiquated tradition and its main purpose throughout history was to keep women as property. Other than a tax break and other various legal issues leftover from laws that haven't caught up with the times, I sincerely believed that the whole marriage concept didn't have contemporary relevance.

Obviously, I must've been so-oo much fun to date. Maybe that's why nobody asked me out. I was honestly okay with that. I had my own life to sort, and didn't want to have to bother to sort out someone else's life too.

My husband thought along those same lines too. So, how the hell do we wind up dating for two months, decide to get married, and are still enthusiastic about being married for more than two years after the fact?

Um...

Well, it started when we met on a road trip to Arkansas, and my reluctance to be honest. He later said that he thought I was the greatest storyteller he'd ever met, and that I was also one of the most gifted liars he'd ever met.

I believe in being honest with potential friends. I have learned, however, that people hesitate to believe me when I start to tell stories about myself. So, I didn't want to own up just yet.

It's my brother-in-law's fault that I didn't get the chance.

He wasn't my brother-in-law at the time. He was still my sister's boyfriend, and I was meeting his best friend for the first time. Then, we were all going to meet my cousins two states away for a New Year's Eve party.

So, I meet my brother-in-law's bff, the man I eventually marry. That was my second thought about him, that life-altering attraction. My first thought was, 'he looks confused'. Later, I learned that was because he was still waiting for his friend's sister to arrive. He thought I was just a roommate or something because my sis and I look absolutely nothing alike.

My sister and her boyfriend piled into my backseat. I'm still not sure why I got saddled with driving from NE Kansas to NW Arkansas when they already drove over to my apartment in their own car and left it parked there. Oh well. So, they were in the back seat, I was driving, and this attractive guy was in the passenger seat.

Now what? The highway opened for us. I focused on driving because 1) it's considered rude to stare, 2) there's no natural high like buzzing along on the open road and 3) I don't want to die by distracted driving. So, I gave my attention to driving. And, what would I say anyway? "Hey, glad you like my car, yeah, just ignore the textbooks and drive-thru recepits. I didn't know I was going to drive."

In the backseat, my sister's boyfriend leaned forward. "Hey, Deb, M's got to hear about what happened on your way over to Ireland."

"Um, okay. Which time?" But, it didn't matter; I knew exactly what story he wanted me to spill.

(Dear readers, none of these stories are embellished. What is told is what happened.)

On my way to Cork

I studied abroad at University College Cork, Ireland. I don't know why I picked Ireland. Sure, I've got some Irish heritage, but not enough to transplate myself a quarter of the way around the globe. I just knew that's where I wanted to go. So, I did.

But, I had to get there first. Simple plan: Kansas City to Chicago to London to Cork. Okay, simple enough for a college budget.

First delay: sitting on the tarmac in Kansas City because Chicago is having bad weather. I cracked my knuckles. I had a tight connection to make in Chicago, but that was okay. That flight would probably be delayed too because the bad weather was happening over there.

No such luck. As soon as I get off the plane, I grabbed the nearest employee I could find. She assured me that since my original flight still takes off in 5 minutes that American Airlines had moved me on to one that takes off in 30, and here was my new boarding pass. Great. That would still give me time to catch my London to Cork connection.

So, I could relax. I purchased a cinnamon roll, an extra bottle of water and sat down to review my paperwork about my new university, housing arrangements, etc...

And then I heard my name announced over all of Chicago O'Hare, and the PA demanded that I report to my original flight to London. "This is your final boarding call."

I burped up a piece of cinnamon roll, stuffed everything in my backpack and was running before my feet hit the floor. In this run, I learned how freaking huge this airport actually was. Again, I hear my name announced. I kept running, and kept running...

Finally, out of breath, I slapped my hand up on the counter. The door to the jetway was already closed, but everyone was still there. "I'm here," I wheezed and presented my original boarding pass.

The attendant took my paperwork, glanced at it, and then just raised both her eyebrows. "Oh, you were moved to the next flight, didn't anyone tell you?"

"Then why the hell did you just call my name over the intercom!? TWICE!" ...is what I wanted to shout. Instead, I wound up just staring and probably catching flies in my open jaw.

I slept most of the way over to London. I just had to shut the world out for awhile. Once I arrived, I realized that Chicago O'Hare has got nothing on London Heathrow in the realms of huge and confusing.

Other wide eyed American students also stared up at the maps, trying to figure how to navigate the airport. For fifteen minutes, we became comrades in arms - just to get through the airport. And, just like that, we evaporated to go our separate ways.

I was still in time for my connection to Cork. I shuffled through my paperwork one last time, and discovered that I was missing my contact information for when I arrived. No phone, no address to my apartment, no contact name. Literally no clue.

When I made my mad dash in Chicago, it must have not made it back into my backpack. It was probably still sitting in the food court, covered in cinnamon bun fragments. A cold shiver ran up my spine at the same time my face lit on fire. I gulped. What was I going to do?

To make matters worse, when I presented my boarding pass for my final connection, it turned out that American Airlines had canceled my reservation to this flight completely. However, since I had my original boarding pass and obviously still needed to go, they'd let me on because they had extra seats. Go Aer Lingus. Of course, I wouldn't have the seat on the ticket and my luggage had been condemned to limbo.

I plopped my unhappy butt now in my new seat. What a great way to start this adventure. Seriously. What was I going to do when I got there?

Another woman, about my age, took the seat next to me. I ignored her thorougly. I just glared ahead at the back of the seat in front of me. After takeoff, she tried to get the last few stubborn drops out of the bottom of an empy bottle of water.

I sighed and pulled out my unopened bottle that I'd bought inside of O'Hare and offered it. No reason why both of us have to be in sour moods. She accepted it with a nervous smile and said, "Yeah, I'm just coming over here to study abroad."

"Me too." And, as it turns out, she was going to exactly the same apartment complex. Boo-ya.

**

So, back to the road trip. We were still cruising along somewhere on Highway 71 in Missouri with this really cute guy seated in the passenger seat. He shook his head and laughed, and it was the "I don't believe you, but you sure can tell a whopper laugh".

I grinned. Whew. I was glad that was over.

My sister's boyfriend, emerging from the back seat, demanded "Tell the one about the cell phone in the sand!"

Ahhhh! I don't wanna, I don't wanna! I almost shoved my hands over my ears. If M laughed at me for my "going to Cork" story, he really really wouldn't believe this one! Even if it was 100% true.

To be Continued...