A Modern Fairy Tale

 

Ok...so once upon a time there was this girl...No...there once was a young girl from Nantucket...No...there was this messed up middle aged friend/mom/pretentious academic/career woman/maid/cook/chief bottle washer who wondered if she had slept through her life.  She was one for the medical textbooks, for she was Comatose...as she reliably, common sensically, predictably, routinely, of coursedly, howfuckinelsedly, went about her days.  Until...the universe conspired to wake her up.

 

This particular morning, the planets aligned as she got out of bed, showered, styled her hair for the millionth pointless time, put on makeup for all the people that wouldn't be looking, skipped breakfast and went straight for the coffee.  A cosmic grin shone over the city, for that day, the hair wasn't pointless, someone was looking at the makeup…and she really should have eaten something.

 

She walked to her destination...No...she casually strolled in the vague direction of her destination...Ok...what she thought was her destination wasn't where she was standing.  As she looked around she saw a piper on the corner...No...As she looked around there was a do-gooder just waiting to be of assistance...Ok...in reality there was a policeman on the corner who was tersely telling the tourists, for the millionth pointless time where the cathedral was.  It's his job, right?  He has to help...so she sauntered toward him...No...she confidently strode his direction...really?  She tripped on the damn cobbles and hurt her foot as she stumbled to the corner.  As he saw her approaching, he smiled...not the 'I-just-saw-you-make-an-ass-of-yourself' smile...the 'I-hope-she-asks-me-a-question-so-I-can-talk-to-her' smile.  The girl looked around...had to be like in the movies when you look up and Mr. DropDeadGorgeous is standing in front of you smiling and you smile back only for him to walk right by to someone else.  No one was behind her...

 

So...putting the cobbles out of her mind and forgetting the sore foot, she walked over to him and with her most apologetic 'I'm-not-really-a-moron-nor-a-tourist-and-I-don't-want-the-cathedral' smile asked for his help.  He kindly steered her in the right direction, making a bit of small talk about the weather, offering advice on where to get the best cuppa in the city.  Fluke...had to be...

 

So she followed his directions and found her way to the place she needed to go.  As she wound her way toward the automatic doors, she was struck by what Hollywood potential this entrance had.  Automatic doors opened up to a large marble staircase, and the security guard was at the top...so...leaving her '50s-style-lookin-starlet sunglasses on until just the last second, she made her way through the doors and did her best Marilyn Monroe up the stairs.  As she took off the glasses, to her surprise...the security guard left for a break...No...he answered the phone ignoring her presence...actually...he swallowed, smoothed his hair, and tugged at his ever-so-straight-security-officer-blue tie.  As she climbed the staircase, he smiled right at her.

Omen.
Sign.
Portent.

 

One of the things on her 'to-do' list was to listen to an interview ... an interview done a long time ago …a voice from beyond speaking about potentially marginally relevant things.  But it was necessary.  So.  The interviewer was asking all the right questions, for her purposes, but then in the middle of the interview, the conversation took a strange turn.  It went something like this:

 

Interviewer:     You married very young didn't you.  You never had a chance to 'sow those wild oats'...What advice would you give to someone who is in your same situation?
Interviewee:    Well, I would say 'It'll come!  It'll come!  Pay attention to those seedlings, for they will grow into wild oats!"
Interviewer:    Do you have any regrets?
Interviewee:     There are a few people I should have like to have slept with and didn't.  And I didn't become a ballerina...haven't got the figure.  And I can't sing a note...but other than that, I've done pretty well..."

 

She replayed that part of the tape.  Five times.  The policeman, the security guard, the dead woman...the cosmic grin widened into a smile.

 

Working through lunch and into the dinner hour, the girl decided that it really was time to just put it away for the day.  She stopped by the information desk, picking up an article on feminism written by the dead woman, and made her way to this pub she knew of...it was close to her flat...so if she needed to drink 2 or 3 or 4 pints instead of one, it was a short way round the corner.  She forgot though that this place didn't have a huge meal selection for herbivores like her...so ordering the only other vege-meal on the menu–having been there once before–and a pint, she made her way to a safe spot...an ‘i-can-see-it-all-from-here-without-you-really-noticing-me�?spot.  As she got out the dead woman’s article and her official pen, she toasted no-one, drank...deeply...and just wanted to relax.

 

Soon, her meal came.  It must have been the scots version of a happy meal (appropriate toy prizes available for each age), for next to her appeared this tall, dark haired, GQ guy–with a posh London accent.  She sat there, staring at her macaroni and cheese so she wouldn't give her ‘so-where’s-your-drop-dead-gorgeous-model-date' look...he said, "You don't look overly impressed with your meal..." Reply or be standoffish?  Being ever so tired of her own company, and really just wanting to talk to a human being of reasonable intelligence, who would be much more favorable to look at than her macaroni and cheese, she said,
"Well...it sounded better than it may turn out to be..."
"So, are you going to eat it or stab it?"
"Tough call...but as this makes dinner, I better go for the eating."
"What are you reading?"

 

Conversation loomed.  Do they do the awkward 2 table thing where no one officially knows when it's ok to speak, then everyone winds up pretending to read only to be hyperpreoccupied with the other person's presence?  Fuck that.

"Do you just want to sit at my table?  It will be hard to eat and talk with you over there..."

The waitress was bringing his food over, and pointing her way, he said, "I'm moving to her table."

 

The universe smiled a full frontal, teeth exposing smile...

Politics...Monty Python...History...Jobs...What-are-you-doing-here-since-you-obviously-dont-live-here...

 

"Can I buy you something that is worth drinking?" he asked laughing at the pale yellow concoction.  She said, "No liquid bread...if I have to cut it, it doesn't go in a glass.  What would you recommend?"

"Well, Madonna came out in the newspaper endorsing Timothy Taylor.  It's good, and it's not dark.  Mind if I smoke?  You americans are touchy about that one aren't you?"

"Go ahead...actually, the smell doesn't bother me...anyway..." she pushed the packet at him with the extra large warning on the label which read SMOKING KILLS SPERM. "...it's your call..." It was her turn to laugh...

 

Theatre...literature...feminism...politics AGAIN...do-you-come-here-often

 

"Actually," he said, "I was just walking down the high street..."
"So...you just happened to come in here?"
He looked at her, raised his glass, and said "Cheers...fate is kind for once.  Besides, I was in dire need of a drink and some haggis..."
"HAGGIS?  You realise that's the equivalent of a Scottish hot dog."
"Want another pint?"
"I think it's my turn..."
"All the better..."

 

Cricket...Baseball...Football...Football...

 

"You're wearing a Crimson Tide T-shirt!"
"My parents used to live in Alabama..."
"Oh my...is that all you've seen of the states?"
“Well, I got asked to church a lot when I visited there…do they do anything else?�?/DIV>