3/24/2010
- Jesse Tane jesse [...] .com
- to kathleen cho
These messages were sent while you were offline.
| 4:23 PM |
Jesse: um well some people are going to bourbon and branch later on for a friends bday but we are going to be in the public area |
| 4:24 PM |
so if you wanted a fancy drink you could stop by yknow for celebration purposes |
Sometimes, all it takes is an invitation by way of a message, from someone you both know.
Oh, and a fancy drink it was. And a celebration too. Just not yet the kind we could predict—no, because predicting we did not. Initially, we tried our utmost best to disbelieve a romantic relationship could emerge. And why not? Who has asymmetrical hair? Who wears pastel and pinstripes? But worlds collide, in both capricious and romantic ways. And ours collided with Twin Peaks.
Yet, the distance at which we sat on the sofa was inversely proportional to the elapsed time of each compounded episode. At least once a week, early evening wall projections turned into late night conversations, by way of food and drinks at the charming San Francisco establishment that is Hotel Utah, or a scotch for her and a Stella for him at the cave *. By the time who killed Laura Palmer was revealed, we never spent a night apart.
* cave /'kāv/
noun: a large underground chamber, typically of natural origin, in a hillside or cliff
noun: also known as kathleen’s dwelling
Ah, the cave. It was where it all started—and flourished. That is, until the fine people at the city of San Francisco decided that free parking was no more, alas. Many parking tickets were paid that year.
By way of a temporary dwelling on Oak Street in San Francisco, we ended up beginning at a point on the easterly line of Pond Street, distant thereon 182 feet, 6 inches northerly from the northerly line of 17th street; running thence northerly along said line of Pond Street 25 feet; thence at a right angle easterly 68 feet, 9 inches. Or more commonly referred to as The Pond.
For the first time in our lives, there were no questions or qualms about our partner. We just knew. It was that simple and that beautiful. It was time to celebrate—or in Beyoncé’s words: put a ring on it. Yet, putting a ring on it requires audacity—or at least an inkling of creativity, or surprise. To do so, we set out on a small adventure:
Cuba Libre
United Flight 0677 landed at 16:03 at Cancún International Airport, Mexico. It was drizzling, the sun making a feeble attempt to pierce the overcast sky. Kathleen and Didier just cleared security. They travel light. “Checking bags is lame, heard?”—Kathleen said while preparing their departure from San Francisco. Didier was nervous, fleetingly paying attention to what was being said. Checking, double-checking and triple checking his luggage. “F*ck, f*ck... I can not lose this stone,” he lamented to himself in silence. “Only 24 more hours...” Cancún was only to be an intermezzo. The next day another flight was planned on a Tupolev 204. The next morning the shuttle was late—but eventually appeared at the entrance of the cheesy establishment on Blvd. Kukulcan.
Check-in counter 16: Cubana, back at the airport in Cancún. Kathleen and Didier rushed to the desk, as a check-in 3 hours prior to departure was required—destination Havana, Cuba. The flight was short, only one hour or so. Didier exchanged euros in cash for the local currency. Meanwhile, Kathleen hustled transportation to Havana. The car, reminiscent of another era, was parked in an adjacent lot, obviously not officially-sanctioned transportation. But authenticity and a fixed price removed any doubt. To Didier’s relief, the ring had not gone missing—still there. Upon arrival at Hotel Conde de Villanueva, they were both overwhelmed by the size and grandeur of the room. Kathleen was impressed, a rare feat in itself. “Welcome to Havana”—Didier said, satisfied.
The next morning they decided to randomly walk the streets of Havana. Agenda? Get lost. But, the night before, Didier had singled out the spot to pop the question. As they walked down Mercaderes, they arrived at Plaza Vieja. There, in the center of the square, Didier asked Kathleen to stop. He dropped on one knee, ring in hand (carefully removed from its protective pouch), and nervously asked, “Kathleen Kyung-Ah Cho. Will you marry me?“. To which Kathleen replied with a smile: “Yes.”
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