The First Kiss

Three years ago today, Liz and I shared a moment that would direct our collective paths. It was our first kiss. We enjoy recounting the way we met, how our relationship developed, and where it has led us. The opportunity to tell our story arose when I saw a call for entries in the Indy Week, a publication that is distributed throughout Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill.

The call for entries noted that the Indy Week was taking submissions for love stories to print as Valentine’s Day approached. “Newly in love? Together forever? Gay? Straight? We want to hear your story!” the headline read. I compiled an abridged description of how we met in 250 or less. The following ran in the February 13^th issue, the day before Valentine’s Day.

Most people can only recall their first kiss. Luckily, my first kiss with The One was photographed – in a photo booth, with her wearing my suit jacket, a bottle of Patron in her hand and my tie in my friend’s mouth. Striking.

36 hours prior to that kiss, Elizabeth Fabry had agreed to take a new job and move from Oklahoma City to Durham, North Carolina, 1,200 miles away.

After the kiss we came to discover there were numerous chances for us to find each other. We graduated the same year, from the same university and started working in the same industry. We had mutual friends that were just waiting for the right time to introduce us. I even have pictures of me with her dancing in the background taken a year before we met.

Because of that kiss, I left the majority of my belongings in OKC and trekked cross-country, on the highway that was a block from that photo booth and lead me directly to Durham.

Since the move, we have fallen more in love with one another and with The Triangle, and we are having the discussions about our future together.

With that in mind, I need to first ask her father’s permission to marry her.

So, Mr. Fabry, may I have your permission to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage? No matter how far away your little girl may be she will always be taken care of in a way that will make you proud.

I mailed two copies of the Indy Week, accompanied by a letter, to Mr. Fabry in Northeastern Oklahoma. Gratefully, I received his permission. Albeit not yet a proposal, it was the first step in solidifying our collective future.

The Indy Week shares the story and the picture on their site here. A BIG thanks to them for lending this transplanted Okie a hand.

Murder By Death

It was the first show that Liz and I had seen together. Murder By Death at The Conservatory in Oklahoma City. There is no way that we could have foreseen that, nearly 3 years later, we would schedule a weekend getaway around the MBD show in Wilmington, NC. As one of my favorite bands, I couldn’t help but join them as they played the second show of their tour.

I had seen them several times before and even have a print, from their 2007 show in Tulsa, in my office. As a result, I’ve attempted to explain to multiple inquirers that Murder By Death is not a metal band, but quite the contrary. Listening to them is like going on a whiskey-fueled road trip, with an amazing storyteller, through the Appalachians. Instead of hearing banjos along the way, you hear a cello. And the storyteller might, just might, have a little bit of Johnny Cash’s spirit flowing through him. 

We caught up with that storyteller at The Soapbox Laundro-Lounge in Wilmington. A space that once began as a place for “laundry, lounging and libations” had made it their business to host concerts as well. An intimate venue, it set the set the perfect stage for an incredibly enjoyable show, and a perfect bookend to the final evening of our road trip.

Wilmington

It is a bit surreal to see the sun rise over the Atlantic in the morning, and then set over the water that same evening. That was the case as Liz and I moved inland from Wrightsville beach. We made the short drive to downtown Wilmington and checked into a hotel overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway.

Natural inlets, bays, and rivers comprise the Intracoastal Waterway that runs 3,000 miles through the Atlanitic and Gulf coasts. From our perch on the waterway we took a short walk to downtown, visiting Chop Deli and Cape Fear Beer & Wine before seeking our final destination at The Soapbox Laundro-Lounge.

Having never visited Wilmington, it was a town full of pleasant surprises. The food and drinks were delicious. The people were kind. And the strolls along the river walk, and out onto the docks, were both visually and mentally relaxing. Our tour-de-Wilmington definitely prompted conversations of plans to return.

Where I-40 E Ends

I set my alarm for 6:45 am. It was a Saturday and I didn’t want to get out of bed that early, but I knew that the sun was going to rise over the Atlantic just after seven. The alarm went off and I was surprisingly awake as I started the single-serve coffee maker. As I walked on to the hotel balcony, I couldn’t help but be pleased at the thought that I was one of the first people in the U.S. to watch the sun rise that morning.

Over the course of the year-and-a-half prior, I had not taken the short drive out to Wrightsville Beach. I knew that the ocean was there, and yet I didn’t feel the need to see it. However, one of my favorite bands, Murder By Death, was playing in Wilmington, NC later that weekend. And I did feel the need to see them.We decided to make a weekend of it and booked a room overlooking the oceanfront. The morning after our arrival I sat, sipping the single-serve coffee, watching as the sun revealed the ocean, the sand, and the beach houses that were previously concealed by the night before. Come to find out, I did need to see the coast, and solidify my place on the map.