25 Years Ago….
I was in Telluride, Colorado, the leader of a Sierra Club
ski trip from Cincinnati. The group was
small and the only one I remember there was my dear friend Karen, who had flown
in from Alaska to join us.
I had been in Telluride the summer before. The Sierra Club had held a national meeting
in Vail and after the meeting I had taken off on my own, driving a 1974 Karmin
Ghia on a road trip through Colorado. I
wanted to check out Telluride as I had skied most of the major ski resorts in
Colorado and Telluride was next on my list of destinations.
We planned to be in Telluride for a week and I was having
a blast with Karen. She had never skied
downhill and I wasn’t that great at the sport, but there is nothing like being
in the mountains of Colorado, on a clear, crisp day with bright blue skies and
mountains in every direction you look. I
could ski the green and blue runs with Karen as it didn’t take long for her to
catch on.
Early in the week we had spent the entire day on the
mountain and when it was time to come down Karen was so tired she could not
stay up on her skis. We took the easy
way down, using an access road for the mountain, but still she was having trouble. A ski patrol guy came along, saw what was
going on and assisted Karen by harnessing her up to him in ropes, and reining
her much like you would a horse. We had
a good laugh all the way down the mountain.
On Tuesday night of that week we went into Fly Me to the
Moon Saloon, just to check it out. I
wasn’t impressed. The place was quiet,
no action at all, so we quickly left and found a more lively location for our Après
ski evening.
By Thursday, March 3, 1988 we had expanded our circle of
skiing friends beyond our immediate group.
Word was spreading on the mountain that the place to be that evening was
Fly Me to the Moon Saloon. There was supposed
to be a super band playing. I had no
interest, but Karen pressed for us to go.
I was being somewhat bitchy but finally relented.
We arrived and found a long line of customers waiting to
get in, I was bitching, didn’t want to wait in the line. Word came up the line that there was a $5
cover charge, I was bitching, didn’t want to pay the cover. Generally speaking, I was not being much fun
at all. Finally we got to the door of
the Saloon and there was the doorman. I
immediately stopped bitching.
I don’t believe in fairy tales, but something happened
the instant our eyes met. There is no
way to explain it, because not only did it hit me like a sledge hammer, but it
hit Pete too. The bar was full, there
was only one table left, and it was immediately behind Pete where he stood at
the door. He moved us to that table,
didn’t charge us the cover and then it was obvious that we were the object of
his attention for the evening.
Within a few minutes Karen said, “I think he likes you.” And I said back to her, “I think the feeling
is mutual.” He flirted, he bought us
drinks, he carried on like a kid, and it worked. Friday night we went back and had Pete’s
attention for the evening. Saturday
night we went back and Karen left early while I waited for Pete to get
off. He drove me back to my motel and we
sat in his car for a couple of hours, just talking. It was the only time I heard him play
classical music in his car. I think he
was trying to impress me.
We were scheduled to leave on Sunday. Karen’s flight to Alaska was to leave early
in the day. My flight back to Cincinnati
was after lunch. Pete suggested he pick
me up after Karen left and give me a tour of Telluride and then take me to the
airport. I said yes.
The next morning I saw Karen off at the airport and then
I got a message from the motel that Pete couldn’t meet me…something had come
up. I was disappointed but thought it
was probably just as well, since nothing could come of this brief
encounter. I would just go home and
forget it.
So I ended up taking a taxi
to the airport and of course, it being a ski trip, I had tons of luggage;
between the ski gear, the ski wear and everything else, I would have to make a
couple of trips from the taxi to the terminal.
As I headed to the terminal with my first load I looked
behind me, and there was Pete, carrying the rest of my gear. He had a big grin on his face. For the first and only time in my life I was
so grateful that my flight was more than an hour late. We sat in terminal and continued the
talking. And in all that time, Thursday,
Friday, Saturday nights and Sunday morning, he never touched me, never held my
hand, put his arm around my shoulder or kissed me. Finally it was time for departure. We exchanged phone numbers and addresses, and
that’s how it began.
Twenty-five years later we have been happily married 22
years and still going strong. In so many
ways it just gets better and better. For
anyone who doesn’t believe in ‘love at first sight’ we are a living testament
to the fact that it does exist and can work. You just have to trust the Fates.