Walt's Renaissance Riot

I awoke to a soft light shining through the windows, and I immediately knew that today was going to be a good day. The light told me so. It's hard to describe the feeling of waking up in the morning and knowing, just knowing, that whatever happens today will be a perfect match for what you want it to be. This is not an everyday occurrence, mind you. A good day is less than one percent of my days.

Good days are when people move aside as I walk down the street, when everyone gives me their seats on the bus, when I get upgraded at the airport lounge without having to ask (although it helps if you're British). Good days are when I make myself a spot at the bar and get served before anyone else can even blink. Good days are when every single person who tries to say something obnoxious or offensive has his words die in his mouth as soon as he sees me. Today was shaping up to be one of those rare, beautiful days where I could breathe and live and think without fear of reprisal or hostility.

It was Saturday, which meant no lectures at Oxford, which meant that I had all day to cruise around town and bask in my unassailable awesomeness. And then it hit me: there was someone special waiting for me on this good day. A woman whom I had been courting for weeks but only spoken with once or twice in passing. She lived across town from me, so I texted her and asked her if she wanted to meet up somewhere nearby for coffee. She wrote back right away: "Yes."

The sun shone brightly on this good day as I rode my bicycle through town toward the Starbucks where we were scheduled to meet. After riding past a few people who were clearly regulars and got a head nod from each one of them, I arrived at Starbucks and found her sitting on a bench outside with a book in her hand. She was beautiful and young, with long black hair and piercingly green eyes, wearing jeans and a casual blouse; she looked like an angel with just enough edge to keep things interesting. Her name was Lily; I had met her at one of my lectures about two months ago and we had talked for quite some time after class ended until we ran out of things to say. As usual, she had walked away abruptly before we could exchange numbers; she made it clear that she wanted to leave first, but also clear that she wasn't trying very hard to avoid getting my number. That night would change everything between us; three days later we would meet again at another lecture but this time we exchanged numbers right away and agreed to meet up sometime soon for coffee.

As I walked over to her bench she smiled broadly while looking up from her book: "Walt!" she said warmly once I reached her side, "I wasn't sure you'd actually show up today."

"Of course I would," I answered confidently as I sat down next to her on the bench, "on a day like today? Of course."

We moved on from there into pleasantries about our lives since last we met (which seems like ages ago), about mutual friends we have in common (the same age as us) from school (Oxford), about our respective poems (what little there was that she had read of mine), about our favorite films (she liked Woody Allen films more than most girls her age did), about our favorite authors (she liked Kafka more than most girls her age did). We kept talking until there was nothing left for us to talk about except each other's presence in our lives today- here, now- which left us with a choice: whether or not we should go further with this conversation by trying to figure out whether or not there was anything between us beyond being mutual admirers of each other's talents and interests in general?

She asked me if I wanted coffee; normally this would mean "Do you want coffee?" but in this case it sounded more like "Want some coffee?" which means "Do you want some coffee?", which means "Do you want some coffee with me?" which means... well... no hesitation on my part: "I'd love some," I replied emphatically with an emphatic grin across my face while simultaneously reaching into my pocket for money that turned out not be there because it never is when you need it most. But before either of us could give voice to any sort of disappointment over my lack of money (which would have been expected), she reached into her purse and took out a ten pound note and handed it over to the cashier who quickly returned with two cups of cappuccinos with whipped cream on top- one for each of us- all without saying a word throughout the entire transaction process that lasted no more than five seconds! When the transaction was complete Lily looked at me directly in my eyes-- smiling wickedly-- as she handed me one of two cups while setting hers down next to her against the wall behind where we were sitting together on the bench outside Starbucks!