Atlanta was a great trip. It is funny how Patrick’s friendship just continues online and offline without missing a beat. Not physically seeing Patrick since our cruise, over a year ago, we simply just picked up where we left off. He was a great host. The excuse for the visit was for Atlanta’s Pride celebration. Understanding the heat of Atlanta’s summers I understand how they began to throw the weekend celebration in October.
The first night was a kick-off party as the Atlanta Aquarium. A huge party thrown around the world-class aquariums and tanks. Patrick and I literally partied with Otters. A long list of Atlanta’s best diners, and dives followed over the weekend. Topped off by the main Pride Parade on Sunday. As Patrick, his large and very nice group of friends, and I settled into a safe spot to watch the parade; I quickly become bored. Patrick suggested we sit on the near-by Italian restaurant’s patio. We snuck away from the jubilant friends and ordered a little lunch, alfresco.
At this point in my story, I need to mention that anytime I am awake my head is buried in my phone. This trip, I was constantly texting the same cute boy I had been seeing in back home. All through the Aquarium, the diners, and the parade I was texting him non-stop. It’s actually quite disgusting. I mimic a fourteen-year old girl. As we slipped away from the parade front, I sent a selfie to the same cute boy, giving him a literal picture of the mayhem we were about to escape. I casually let him know Patrick and I were going to grab food. The boy too, was away from home. In Connecticut for a week at a family wedding. We chatted non-stop about our separate adventures. I had been secretly bummed that he couldn’t join my adventure in Atlanta. But, at least we could text.
I relished the Sunday afternoon. Sitting with one of my dearest friends, soaking up the day with a great person. We still had a great view of the parade as it crossed over Piedmont St. About half a block away, it was great to see, but not get too involved. It was also just enough space to cruise for cute boys. And, Atlanta has no shortage in amazingly cute boys. Patrick and I had all the time in the world to watch them wander by. As my gaze roamed the sea of Atlanta cuteness, one super-cute guy caught my eye. Slim. Muscular. Flowing curly locks of hair. Tall. The sun bounced and danced upon his light caramel skin. But…. Suddenly I became that 70’s Pina Colada Song. I knew his smile in an instant, I knew the curve of his face. It was my own lovely boy…. I sprung from the table alarming Patrick and our group of dinning friends. The boy I had been obsessing over, the one in Connecticut. Just wandered by. Of, course his head was down, texting me. He was causally asking me what the name of the restaurant I had mentioned.
I ran through the crowed, I began to doubt whether I actually saw him at all.
Then, I stopped running. There he was. The most beautiful boy ever. The crowed stopped moving, the drag queen, upon the nearby float frozen in time. Glitter held its place in midair. The very movement of blood within my heart stopped. Nothing existed. Reality faded into a grey blur on the edges of space between my trembling hands and him. The curve of his face. I threw my arms around him and squeezed. The glitter began to fly again. The waving drag queen upon her float slowly came back up to speed.
The boy had ducked out of the wedding in Connecticut and flew down to surprise me. Following my clues of selfies and unknowingly cryptic texts. The most romantic thing anyone has ever done. Me and my boy. We watched the remainder of the parade. Intertwined.