With all this talk of meteor showers, I can't help but recall my first memory of such an occurrence taking place in DC. It was November of 2001. (I googled the date)
Recently single, I was young, naive, timid of the "big city" and not sure how dating worked. Not to fear, I had my friend Becca to lead the way. Granted I'd been going to DC my whole life, but never without a parental unit, never to a club and surely not with an estimated time of arrival 11:30 p.m. It was frigid this particular evening but that didn't stop us from climbing into Becca's drafty not always so reliable jeep (that totally symbolized freedom to me) in our skimpiest clothes possible and heading into the night. Upon arrival to Platinum, the music was thumping and it dawned on me that I didn't really know how to dance. I hadn't discovered liquid courage yet so that didn't help my rhythm but I blindly followed Becca's lead of ordering an Amaretto Sour. Oh, what a treat! I sipped the sour goodness and kept my eye on it the whole time to be sure I wasn't roofied! I'd heard stories you know.
So back to awkwardly dancing, (me, not Becca, she's always been a good dancer) before long two potential suitors began closing in. While I wasn't particularly attracted to the fellow shuffling my way, I figured the point was to meet boys. And besides, Becca had started dancing with his friend. About an hour and a bathroom conference later, I had tired of my admirer I suspected was at least 1/2 an inch shorter than myself, but B was totally into her guy. "Do you mind hanging out with them just a little longer, " she asked? Going with the flow, I really didn't mind. Plus, they might come in handy for escorting us back to our ride in an hour or so. Who knows what predators were lurking out there! These guys didn't seem so bad.
follow us back walk us to the freedom jeep they did. Shivering in the night air, somebody noticed meteors darting across the sky. We hadn't expected to be able to see them in the city, but we paused and stared straight into the atmosphere, watching non-stop shooting stars. How romantic it could have been. While Becca was (ahem) chatting with her suitor and if I recall correctly, penciling him in for a date, I surrendered to nestling into mines coat. I didn't yet know what a "wingman" was, but I was really good at being one. I mean, it was afterall freezing. And kind of fun I suppose.
While I don't recall what happened to either fellow, I will not forget how stunning the sky looked in the wee hours of that November morning.
(For the record, Becca later proves to be a praiseworthy wingman to me as well. Once I get some game that is. But that's a story for another day.)