All I could think about was the future, the events that were to unfurl before me, like a carpet being let loose and unraveling on its own volition. Yes, the carpet would cease unfurling eventually, but the part that truly matters is the initial loosing, the climatic, yet gentle shift from a roll of carpet to a carpeted floor.
My eyes went to the sky. How fast do clouds move? Is it possible to race them? I know airplanes can go through them, so they are probably slower than 200 miles per hour, but how fast or slow are they exactly? I’m sure different types are probably slower or faster, but what I want to know is an average estimation of their speed.
How come we had to learn about the types of clouds in elementary school. Why is it that I still know the basic types. Well, I don’t really know them, but if you’re with someone and you point up at the sky indiscriminately and say “That’s a cumulonimbus” who is really so well-versed in sky culture that they would be willing to argue with you? Only seven people in your town, probably.
"Megan where are we?"
Megan picked her head up from the bottom of her window and reached for the map. After a minute of looking, she decided we were in either Iowa or Nebraska. “Did you know the capital of Iowa is Des Moines,” she added.
I did know that. I know all the capitals. The capital of Nebraska is Lincoln.
She placed her flip-flop-covered feet back on the dash and tilted her head towards me and smiled. The air conditioning was really cold so I turned it down one notch.
I was wearing my favorite sweatshirt. It was blue and thin and kept me the perfect body temperature. Well, I was cold earlier from the air conditioning but I had just turned it down a notch so I was feeling a lot better now.
"Do you remember that really ugly cat that used to come in to my neighbor’s garage because he kept it open for some reason?"
"Yeah, that cat was really ugly," she said.
"Yes, but the garage was also ugly, so it was like they were made for each other."
Megan and I laughed. The garage wasn’t really ugly. It was just a joke I had made for the sake of making her laugh. She smiled at me again and put her left leg over her right leg. Previously, her right leg was over her left leg.
"Is the air the right temperature for you?" I asked.
"Yeah, it’s perfect. I was a little cold earlier."
"Me too!" I said.
My right hand reached over towards her and landed on the shifting gear.
"Do you mind if I put the gear on the 2? I’ve only ever tried park, neutral, reverse, and drive before. I really want to know what the 2 gear does."
Megan was cool with it, so I changed it to the 2. Man, she was the best.
"Hey, there’s a few nice looking stratio-nimulus clouds up there," I pointed out to her.
I was nervous, I admit. It was our second date and I wanted everything to be as close to perfect as possible. I had even gone so far as to fill up my car with the second cheapest gasoline type. I had no idea what it was or why anyone would ever buy it but I decided that no expense would be spared.
I had also baked some fresh muffins. Those took me about six hours to make because I kept changing my mind on what flavor muffins I wanted. At first, I wanted to make some with nuts but then I changed my mind after about ten minutes of them in the oven. So, I put on my mitts I knitted the day before and took them out, promptly dug into the muffins with tweezers to remove each nut, and then decided to replace them with chocolate chips. This worked well, until I remembered that I hadn’t asked her if she was allergic to chocolate or not and didn’t want her not to be able to have any. So, I put on my mitts I had knitted the day before and took them out of the oven, got back out my tweezers and tried to remove the chocolate chips. They were all melted and everything but eventually I managed to get them out with a straw. I replaced them with bananas because I had never heard of anyone that was allergic to bananas and I thought that was a safe bet. After about three hours of cooking at 100 degrees they seemed warm enough to be done.
Her apartment was a short drive away. I got out of the car like a gentleman and rang her doorbell instead of playing my Linkin Park song so loud that she could hear it from inside and know that I was there. Her doorbell had a nice ring to it. Like really nice. I loved the notes and the rhythm to the chimes and everything. It was nicely paced and not too rushed. It really gave off a welcoming feel.
She answered the door with a smile.
"Hey, I really like your doorbell," I said.
She stepped out and glanced at it.
"How much?" I asked.
She laughed right in my face. I assured her I wasn’t joking.
"I can’t sell you my doorbell. How would you even get it out of my house? Isn’t it built into the wall?"
"That’s not important. I’m willing to go as high as $100." I had seen half a season of Pawn Stars; I knew what I was doing.
"500." she countered. She knew what she was doing, too.
"Meet me in the middle at 300?"
Dang, she was good. She must have seen at least two seasons of Pawn Stars, maybe even three. But I really wanted those bells.
"Alright, I can do 350," I said as I went in for the handshake.
I spent the next hour and a half punching her wall to get her doorbells out. Then I drove home and installed them. I forgot about the date and the banana muffins completely.
Are you the SAT because I’d do you for 3 hours and 45 minutes with a 10 minute break halfway through for snacks, and then I can stare at you for like 10 minutes and think ‘wow, I hope I don’t ruin this.’