My wild girl's weekend to Savannah turned out to be, ironically, less that I had intended; yet, far more than I had anticipated. On that warm, October '01 afternoon when I started off on I-85 south, I had no clue what the next 3 months would deliver.
I saw The Atlantic Ocean for the first time. I'd visited The Pacific, drove through The Rockies, trail blazed as a teen from Illinois to San Diego, but I had never been to The Atlantic side of these United States.
My trip to Savannah, GA wasn't about sight seeing or letting the salty sea air spritz my face. I was on a mission to meet a man. A man whom I'd been communicating with for some time. I did meet up with a man who'd sweep me off my feet-- where I'd land on my back in a drunken dither.
Blue Eyes and I quickly started communicating via instant messenger. I'm talking about the second I logged on when I got home that Sunday after I drove away assuming never to see him again...there was a message waiting from him. He wanted to make sure I made it home safely. I was truly giddy that he didn't just toss my email and messenger information. Perhaps that wild, supposed one night stand wasn't just that to him. Was I that memorable (as my memory was slightly askew due to taking a drive to margaritaville)? Could I do it again without the mix of tequila and hard thumping dance music? Would he want to repeat it or, more importantly, ask me to take a chance on something substantial?
He didn't waste any time in getting my phone number. We realized that alcohol had no bearing on our ability converse. I was a smitten kitten and he was the catnip I wanted to roll around in. By Wednesday evening we came to the realization that we needed to see each other again. Waiting wasn't an option. Macon, GA was a midpoint we could agree upon. I hauled hiney the second I could leave work. Six o'clock on Saturday evening couldn't come quickly enough. By the time I made tracks, once again, down I-85, it was 6:30 pm and my cell phone was ringing. Blue Eyes couldn't wait to see me again. The feeling was nervously mutual.
I couldn't seem to make my car or the traffic move faster than my heart rate. Had that been the case, my car would have been a streak like the Starship Enterprise hitting warp speed. I received another call informing me that he'd arrived and would be at our meeting place. It was the only place either of us could think of. Neither of us had been to Macon enough to know of another spot. It's not the typical spot to meet a date, but since our relationship hadn't started in the normal fashion, why should our meeting place? Hooters. He told me he'd be at the bar. I'd see him when I stepped through the door. He declared that he wanted to get the full view of me as I walked into the place; a clear view of all the patrons looking to see the hotty he was meeting. I'm not bragging on myself. That's simply what he told me.
I wore a mosaic patterned, sheer, form fitting shirt with a tank top underneath. The jeans I wore were low rise, loose fitting Levi's accompanied with a wide, black, leather belt. Simple black mules on my feet. Heavenly ringlets swirled around my head and shoulders. I felt spectacular!! Two leather and denim clad men perched on their Harleys confirmed how I was feeling, "wow! I bet she's the manager."
With a Cheshire Cat grin blazing across my face I grabbed the brass handle on the establishment door. There he was: Blue Eyes stood to meet me. With a low, but excited voice he said hello. His large hand reached around my waist and pulled me to him. Once more he planted a kiss on me that made my pearlies rattle. Yes, the magic was still there. At least all the lust from the weekend prior carried over, but putting a romantic spin on it makes the memory of it sweeter.
He explained that Hooters had beer, beer and more beer if I wanted an alcoholic beverage. "Sorry sweetie, no margaritas in this place." Beer it was. We laughed and talked. He told me about the hellacious drive he had ....only because he couldn't get there soon enough. He shared his fears that I'd bail on him and just leave him hanging. It gave me a sense of reassurance that he was insecure.
After two beers I had to use the restroom. He escorted me and waited until I emerged. What a shock that was. We concurred that food was necessary and we found a steak house down the road. I had my margarita. I had Blue Eyes across from me. For that moment in time all was right with the world. I felt hopeful for a new beginning. My restless mind was put at ease. He didn't see me as a woman of loose virtues. He wanted to know me. All the fears I had anticipated had been put to bed ...pun intended.
Both of us knew that this wasn't a dine and go evening. We'd both put mileage on our vehicles, minds and hearts. The hotel didn't serve breakfast even of the continental variety. I'm sure we missed it even if it had been available. Waffle House filled our bellies the following morning. I'd left my car at Hooters. Blue Eyes pulled up along side my silver Mitsubishi. It took me hours to get out of his truck. That is not an exaggeration. Neither of us wanted to take opposite routes home. As long as I stayed in that truck time would stand still. We tried to buy ourselves a thin mint piece of heaven.
He got out first and opened my door. He gave me his hand and my foot touched down to a reality I wasn't ready for. With my hand in his, his arm wrapped around my waist--we danced. We tripped the light fantastic with only the rhythm of our pounding hearts. Corny? You betcha!