Poop Shute

I've been back a few days now, but slowly recovering from what I can tell you is hellish jetlag.

On the way home I was awake for the better part of 46 hours straight. I say "the better part" because I did have three hours of sleep in the middle, but three hours is sadly pathetic and hardly counts.

I have tons of pictures to share, but I need to go through and pick some out and also pick out some of my travel journal entries to share.

Sadly, right now I need to find some temporary part-time work, so the journal will take a backseat for now. Hopefully I'll be back here tonight to post something. We'll see.

For now, I have great news.

I asked Meg to marry me!

Here's the cute little cinematic story.

I bought the ring before I left for London, knowing that I wanted to do it there, but not knowing how or where or when. Every single day I walked around with it in my pocket, knowing that the right time and place would make themselves obvious so as not to miss them.

Sure enough, they did.

So we're in London, having a nice, cold pint at a pub on the river Thames, it's nearly sunset, one of Meg's best friends is there, we're surrounded by a crowd of happy, laughing people and we're all in a great mood. And when I say we're on the river, I mean on the river. The railing of the patio was right over the water.

This is it.

We had discussed marriage in June, so Meg had been wearing a claddagh (pronounced claw-dah) on her wedding finger as a temporary solution until I did the real thing.

While holding her hand I casually looked down at her ring, and asked if I could see it. She handed it over, and I pretended to examine it or something like that. Then I just started playing with it.

She asked for it back and I said I would when I was done. She continued on talking to Sam.

Once I was sure she had forgotten that I had it, I switched it with the real ring in my pocket and slipped it on her finger. She looked right at it, and said...


"Thanks, honey." And went back to talking to Sam.

I shit you not. She did not notice at all.

Keep in mind that the claddagh is a flat metal band, and the ring I just put on her finger has a large, bulbous protrusion on it in the form or a white, freshwater pearl.

Did I mention she was drinking a little? She's an extreme lightweight.

All right, I think to myself that this could be even better. Maybe we'll get all the way home, and as she's getting ready for bed and emptying her pockets, and taking off her jewelry she'll finally notice it. That could be fun too. And how great a story would that be?

It would have been great, but what really happened was greater still.

About a half hour later we were ready for a second round. Meg jumped up to go get it, and I continued talking with Sam. When Meg jumped up she apparently noticed something funny.

HER POINT OF VIEW:

"So I got up and saw something on my ring out of the corner of my eye. I thought, 'great, I got gum on my ring or something.' So, I looked at it to see what it was, and I thought... 'that's not my...' "

BACK TO ME

Sam and I are interrupted by Meg's outburst of "OH MY F**KING GOD!"

Sam had seen me do it in the first place so, like me, was not at all surprised. She turns to me and says "so, are you going to do it right? One knee?"

I get up and say something to the effect of "you know, with all these people on the patio I could make a big public display of it."

This was met with "no, no, no. that's embarassing" from them both.

*sigh*

I had to, now.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! IF I COULD HAVE A MOMENT OF YOUR TIME. THIS WOMAN IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE-" at which point I slowly, and dramatically got down on one knee. You could hear every person on that patio gasp with anticipation. "AND I NOW ASK HER TO SPEND THE REST OF HER LIFE WITH ME!" By now Meg is already crying , and all she can do is nod empatically.

A roar of applause!

One guy comes trotting up out of the crowd, and says "I'm going to get you a bottle of wine for that. That's beautful. I'll be right back."

He came back with a bottle of champaigne, and five glasses. One for Meg, Sam, and myself, and two for him and his friend. They toasted us, and then he told us how marriage is an "illness" and all that. Jokingly, of course, but it was clear part of him meant it.

As each group of people left the patio most came up to congratulate us and wish us well. Two little girls (probably about 7 and 9 years old) were just beeming at us. "That's sooo romantic." It was cute.

We found out later the champaigne guy's name is Gram (not the traditionally spelled Graham, but like the unit of measure) and he manages a nearby pub called The Gregorian. Sam got his number, after we prompted her to try, and a few nights later we went and had drinks with him at The Gregorian.

Great guy. Very friendly. I hope he and Sam at the very least become good friends, if not more.

So, there you have it. A storybook proposal, if I've ever heard one.

The funny thing is it is exactly the opposite of what I had in mind. I was thinking of planning some big elaborate thing. You know invloving her friends to string her along on some delicately laid chain of events that would end in a surprise proposal. The kind of crap you see on those Fox specials where people air their proposals on TV.

Instead, it was completely unplanned, unrehearsed and almost surprised me as much as her.

Almost.

I think this way worked out better.