Adam Wier

I just got home and I need to write about an experience I just had that I'm still trying to understand.

I had left a friend's house after a nice little dinner and had decided to take one of the bikeshares home. I was about five minutes into my ride when here "Hey, cheri !... Tu es beau ! Je t'aime !" (Hey, babe! You're handsome! I love you!")

I was startled. My mind flipped through multiple possibilites: First, processing what he said to me while I was concentrating on riding, then wondering if he any kind of threat. After quickly realizing he was not but still blazing past on top speed downhill I yelled "Merci !" (Thank you!) and he responded "Epouse moi !!!" (Marry me!!!)

I laughed, feeling absolutely flattered. And for the first couple seconds I wrote him off as a silly drunk man, but as I continued to blaze downhill, I thought, "And what if I stopped to talk to him? What if I went back? He seemed nice, he was definitely not a physical match for me, there was little risk of me getting more than a black eye, so why not live a little? Let's go see this man who wears his heart on his sleeve!"

And as I reached the bottom of the hill I decided to peddle all the way back up that gruesome and steep hill at 2am in the morning. Not sure of exactly where we crossed paths in the dark street, I went up the whole hill and at the top I realized that he was gone. Comically, I opened a hook up ap (no not that one) to see if maybe I could recognize him and send a message. I didn't. After all, how could I? In the brief time I passed him by, I could see he was bit lanky (which I admit I have a soft spot for), had glasses, and was wearing a gray hooded jacket and... that's about it. I'd maybe recognize him in the dark, but in a photo, I'd probably not make the connection. Face blindness and all. And so I said to myself, wheezing a bit out of breath after that hill, that it was not meant to be.

While the idea of not getting the number of a possibly missed connection sucks, I was more sad that I could not return the favor of equally opening up to this human being who had so unhesitatingly opened up to me, and so, wanting desperately to return this openness, I whispered into the wind, "let him know I came." I had the feeling of casting a spell, or if anything, sending a message that he would never read the words of but hoping he would none the less get. And so, once I found a place to cross over the tram tracks, I headed back down the hill, thinking of him, of what kind of person this could be, of what I could have possible even said if I had found him.

And then, after a moment, I came along someone walking along the sidewalk: lanky, wearing glasses, sporting a gray hooded jacket. I slowed, unsure if it was him, and then he seemed to recognize me and I stopped.

"Hello." I smile.

"Hello," he smiles before saying drunkenly, "I'm going to an ATM."

Unsure of what to say, I say "alright."

This moment of not knowing what to say forces me to look at him, to size him up. He is indeed quite handsome, with gold rimmed, round glasses that are perfect on him. His hair is blond or light brown, not easy to tell in the light and his eyes are clear. His face would be wise if less drunk and in any case, seems friendly. Visually speaking, the kind of nerdy guy who likes to play chess but isn't an asshole about it. My little heart flutters. But he's also a bit disheveled, and I sincerely can't tell if he's perhaps homeless or maybe in his drunkenness has fallen down in the dirt. In any case, despite all this, he has charm. He takes my hand, and says something like, "You're beautiful. You're wonderful as you are." He kissed the back of my hand and looks at me.

Still holding his hand, I say, "So are you. Please continue to be." And I kiss the back of his hand. And I meant it.

We look at each other a moment, and then let our hands go, and continue on our way. I put the pedals of my bike in motion and, once again at top speed, glide down the hill.

During the entire descent, I think of this exchange. I turn it over in my mind. Something happened. Did the wind hear me? What was it exactly that we said to each other? Who was he? Where was he coming from and where was he going? What I wrote above of our conversation is my best approximation. It's sure that it's not word perfect. What he said to me remains a bit fuzzy. But it's because the words weren't the important part. We communicated something beyond words. We said something to each other. I wondered, in this way because there were no other words to convey it, was he, in that moment, a bodhisattva to me? Was I one to him? Jokingly I even wondered, was he some kind of angel fallen to earth, taking a detour, getting a bit of cash from the ATM to be able to get a taxi back home? Were we angels to each other?

I'm not entirely sure what to take from this situation. I don't know what it means. Maybe it means nothing more than it was. But it'll stay with me. And much how the words he said to me didn't matter, maybe finding a completely verbalized meaning doesn't matter. But a meaning was transmitted. We transmitted something to each other. If you read this, perhaps you will understand that because someone did the same for you once. And if not, well, at the least, you enjoyed a little anecdote about two ships crossing in the night. But I do hope one day you meet your mutual angel too.