A while back, someone had asked how I'd met my husband. It's a bit of a story, so kick back and enjoy. Here's my "meet cute"!!
However many years ago, I was working in a tiny rural mountain town west of the Mississippi. One of the perks of this particular location was a local ski area nearby. It was so close, that I could ski and take hospital call at the same time. #winning
Photo courtesy of Flickr/Baker County Tourism Travel Baker County www.flickr.com/photos/travelbakercounty/ 1/12/2019
As you may know, when it comes to chairlifts, there is a line for groups of 2 or 3 or 4 (depending on lift size and group sizes), and then there is the 'singles line' for -- you guessed it -- people skiing/snowboarding solo. (Side note: if you want to cut down on waiting in line, even if you're with friends, the singles line is usually quickest.) Anyway, as I'd done with many days, I got into the singles line and a dude joined me on the lift. I said my obligatory "How it's going" and apparently that was all it took. The conversation floodgates opened.
This helmeted, Hawaiian shirt-wearing, mirror-goggled, ew ... snowboarder ... started talking. Friends, when I say started talking, I mean that once he began he did not stop talking for nearly 2 hours. That's right, we chatted our way up the lift, down a run, up another lift, down yet another run, and on it went. At some point, it came up that I was in healthcare and Future Hubs -- who does NOT have a healthcare background -- actually tried to work in the terms "medulla oblongata" and "uvula" into casual conversation to try and impress me. It was so, so wrong, but hilarious!
As luck would have it, I got called in urgently to the hospital, and had to make an abrupt departure, but not before Future Hubs asked if we could meet up again the next weekend at the ski park. I was game. We exchanged digits. The plan was that I'd call him when I got to the parking area the following Saturday, and we'd go from there.
The next weekend's meetup was a bluebird day, about as fantastic of an early spring ski day as you can get. Clear blue sky, 30 degree temps, snow was not too dry and not too slushy. I parked at the base of the ski park and called Future Hubs. After several rings it went to voice mail. I left a brief message, shrugged, and thought, "I'm being ghosted. Hey, not a problem. If he changed his mind, then no harm no foul. I can take a hint. But I'm still going to have a good day." And so I skied that afternoon in the glorious snow and sunshine and had a fantastic time.
Later that evening, Future Hubs called me all flustered and apologetic. He'd been at the ski park when I called. In fact, he had been riding a lift. His phone had rang and when he went to get the phone, he fumbled with gloves on and ... dropped the phone about fifty feet below him into a snowbank. He tried to identify the spot, finally got off the lift at the top, then snowboarded down to the place where the phone fell. No phone. He looked all over. Nothing. Dejected (or so he tells it), Future Hubs drove the hour and a half back to the bigger town where he lived. He called his cell phone number and a person answered. Another skier had retrieved the phone and figured the owner would eventually call. That person mailed the phone back to him.
Future Hubs then called me with what I felt was the most ridiculous excuse for blowing off a semi-date I'd ever heard. However, I did find that he was sincere in his depiction of the disaster. I'm not sure if I completely believed his reason for not meeting up with me. But with points awarded for creativity of the excuse, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, and we went on an actual date a week later.
It was at that actual date where he showed up in normal human clothes, that I learned that Future Hubs was ... bald. You see, he hadn't removed his helmet at any point during the 2 hours of skiing together. Now I knew why. True, this might have been one of the biggest bait-and-switches I'd ever experienced, but by then, it was too late: We got along well, and the rest of the story was history!
Friends, if you see a mildly flustered bald guy hovering around my author table at a signing, reciting random medical terms, feel free to ask him about our "meet cute" -- and you can get HIS side of the story!!
No photo attribution needed. Yup, this is us on our wedding day about a year after we got on that chairlift together! I don't remember the joke we shared right before this photo, but the whole day was basically hilarious with a few disastrous elements. Which seems pretty on-brand for us...
Author, daydreamer, and practitioner of trying very hard to duct tape folks together and help when I can.
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