Well, That Escalated Quickly
Once upon a time, in Washington…
One night, in the fall of 2002, three twenty year old kids from Rhode Island were, once again, driving to band practice somewhere out in the less-tourist-friendly inner suburbs of Maryland. They were early in their junior years of college, and two of them — the annoying bass player and the goofy drummer— were visiting from far away schools. The world’s worst rhythm section had convinced each other that a semester somewhere else would be a great way to meet girls, which probably says a lot about how well that had been going for them back in Richmond and Chicago, respectively. Fairly often, the out-of-towners would badger the neurotic guitarist — who was a full-time student at George Washington University — for introductions.
That night, he finally had something, although it wasn’t exactly what his friends had been looking for. But as it turns out, he did live down the hall from a very available lunatic from Florida, who quoted famous motivational speakers, sold knives door to door, and had once used the opportunity to meet Tino Martinez. As they barreled down Wisconsin Avenue, he (the neurotic guitarist, not Tino Martinez) told the annoying bass player that he just had to meet her, if for no other reason than to confirm her ridiculous existence.
A week or two later, the loud, friendly, and fairly obnoxious-sounding band had a show on the GW campus. The neurotic guitarist convinced everyone he knew — including the lunatic from Florida — to attend, mostly out of guilt. After the show, she unplugged her ears and struck up an animated discussion with the sweaty, exhausted, annoying bass player, which peaked with him forcefully demanding to hear her translate “my dog is on fire” into Chinese.
Three years later — exactly ten years ago today — they got married in Okemos, Michigan in a park.
Then they had a lot of fun, forever. The end.