One of my oldest and dearest friends just celebrated her birthday this past week and I'm feeling a bit sad that we couldn't or didn't find ourselves sitting someplace chatting up a storm for a day and a half. She's one of those friends who when we start talking about one topic we strangely segue into three separate stories. Do we get confused? Never. We know exactly where the conversation is going at all times and are not concerned in the slightest because it will always find itself back to where it began.
She was the friend who when my husband kissed me on our first "official" date, I ran into the house in a panic (leaving him in his car to ponder what he had done wrong, "was it that awful?") to call her.
At 12:30am, "Gina, we crossed the line!"
"Oh my God, you already had sex?!"
"NO! We kissed!"
Very long inpatient pause..."Fuck, of course you did. This has been coming for years. Bri, it's 12:30 in the morning. Next time, call me when you have sex."
Gina and I went through a period of time when we didn't talk. An ugly wall came between us and we let it stay there for way too long. I missed her terribly. One night we met at a party and caught up. It was as if nothing had happened. From that night forward, I swore I wouldn't let that wall destroy us again.
Flash forward a few years. My friend decides to move in with her boyfriend (now husband) living in Colorado Springs, Colorado. I offered to help move her. What an adventure. Two inexperienced 30 year old gals, a U-Haul truck towing a car, and a lot of miles between Los Angeles and Colorado Springs between them. I'm surprised that we made it there alive.
On we went collecting little junk food dooli-bopper antenna toppers as we ate our way through California and Arizona. When we passed through Winslow, Arizona we spontaneously began singing, Take it Easy by the Eagles bursting into uproarious laughter.
Our overnight motels were booked ahead of time and unfortunately they never mention in the travel books when there's a railroad directly behind them. We found that out on our first night after getting settled in after an exhausting 12 hour drive. Without any warning whatsoever, just as our eyes had begun to close, the room started shaking and train horns roared through our open windows (the air conditioner wasn't working very well).
"WHAT THE FUCK!", Gina bolted straight up out of bed as if she were hit by lightning.
I couldn't even hear Gina. I was shaking from head to toe. We're California girls. My first instinct was to duck and cover. Once I realized it wasn't an earthquake, I waited it out and wondered how much more we'd have to endure.
Back down to sleep. Neither one of us could say a word, we were too annoyed. An hour later...
Gina mumbled, "What the Hell was that?"
A few seconds later...BEEP....again...BEEP
"REALLY? I'm dying here!"
"I think it's the fire alarm."
Gina picked up the phone to the front desk, "Um, hello? Yes, we need someone to come to our room and replace or take down the fire alarm. It's going off."
"WHAT DO YOU FUCKING MEAN THERE'S NO ONE THAT CAN DO THIS? WHY DON'T YOU COME OUT AND DO IT?"
Gina took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "If you are not here in ten minutes, I will take care of it myself. Thank you."
Needless to say, the desk clerk was at our room in ten minutes and knocked the fire alarm down with a broom, we made it to Colorado Springs in one piece, and now I live in Denver just an hour away from her.
She doesn't quite drop the F-bomb like she used to and quite a few years have passed since her move out from LA. But there is no one, absolutely no one who knows me better and can make me laugh or cry more than my oldest and dearest friend.
This blog is dedicated to you, Gina. Happy Belated Birthday. I love you.