Friday, November 19, 2010

17 Years Ago...

The date was Friday, November 19, 1993 and I'm guessing it was a fairly normal day. Classes. Eating in the dorm cafeteria...I can't even remember what we called it. Chit chat here and there. I do remember thinking I needed to be in bed asleep by 11 or so if I was going to be up early the next morning for the road trip.

After supper, my girlfriends started talking about the big party they were going to later. Okay, they were probably talking about it at breakfast. And lunch. But whatever. When I said I was staying in for the evening the pressure began. "Oh, come on! It's just down the street. It will be fun. Pleeeease come with us!!!" And like any girl not-so-firm in her resolutions, I caved....on one condition...I was not going out to Hollywood's (our bar) after the party.

From there it was who was wearing what and prettying ourselves up. Hot rollers in my long, dark brown (recently colored) hair. I wore my favorite shirt: a chocolate brown, velvety bodysuit. Remember those? They snapped down below like a baby onesie so they would stay nicely tucked into our high-waist jeans cinched with a belt. Donned my black ZCavaricci jeans. Nice. I was hot. Oh, yeah, baby. I know we had Prince cranked up and blaring down the hall. We jammed out to him every night out...what was the one song? Let's Go Crazy? Kiss? I can't remember, but there was one in particular.

Then off we went...the Chateau Apartments. Now let me tell you, those were some niiiice apartments! Two or three floors of, what, about 12 apartments each? They all opened out into an interior lobby up and down. The throngs of people were not unusual for any typical college keg party. Squeezing in and making our way to the beer station, it was tight, loud, and smelled like 150 college crazies fresh and ready for a night on the town.

I was teamed up with pretty neighbor from down the hall with white-blond curls and a big smile. She was tons of fun and knew a lot of people from being on the track team. Since I was not particularly super-excited at being out, not drinking, and keeping an eye on the clock, I honestly wasn't paying much attention to the people around me. It wasn't long before I probably had that "I'm so bored and you are so stupid" look on my face that is hard to camouflage.

And then it happened. Jill drug me over to introduce me to a group of her track friends, and one I remember most particularly. He wasn't tall, but had dark hair and kind eyes. I believe the word "fine" would have been a term used to describe such a guy. "Resa, this is my friend Eric." I don't remember exact words...probably "hey, nice to meet you etc." "that's an unusual name...blah, blah, blah". And on we went.

Maybe 45 minutes later, this Eric guy runs into me as I'm trying to melt into the crowd between floors (I'm so ready to go home). He points at me and says "'re Jill's friend ...uh.... Resa!...that's it!" I am unimpressed with his slightly inebrieated "hey-ing" with the finger pointing...yeah. He tells me they are all headed to Hollywood's and I should come with them. "No thanks. I'm done and going in for the night." Back and forth that conversation goes, not only with him, but eventually with my girlfriends as well. Thankfully, I escape and make it the few blocks home on my own.

Ahhh, a quiet hall and quieter yet room. I change into my regal purple, terry-cloth robe, grab my basket of shower gear and head down the hall for a nice, hot steaming. Not more than a couple steps outside my door I stop short. A small crowd of people are laughing and making their way towards me. Frozen, I look straight in to the face of the guy from the party with Jill and a some other friends close behind.

"So you really are calling it a night" he says. "I thought you were just blowing me off." I'm thoroughly embarrassed, not to mention completely naked under my robe, but I try to play it cool and choke out a "Yup. Really just here heading to the showers." "And this is your room?" he asks. "Uh-huh" I say with a small smile. Awkward silence. Then the group calls out to him and he's off with a see-ya.

Chance meeting? Not quite. There was an orchestrater far greater than he or I making sure the timing of each our steps that day would end up at just the right intersections. And aren't I so glad He did.

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