FRENCH KISSES AND PARKING METERS

Jennifer was very attractive. She had short brunette hair and a slim build with an unforgettable smile. Our evening had all of the ingredients of a great first date. An outdoor Italian cafe, plenty of Cabernet Sauvignon and of course fascinating conversation. And at the end of the evening, what could have been more romantic than a prolonged goodbye kiss along a busy boulevard that became our Champs-Elysees? Our dialogue was as crisp as a Steve McQueen movie and it went something like this. "I had a great time tonight", she said. "So did I", I replied. Her turn: "I'm already looking forward to our next date". "It will be unforgettable", I boasted. Her turn: "Call me". Me: with my two forefingers and thumbs in the air pointed at the object of my affection as I started slowly walking backwards without breaking eye contact (high drama) "You got it". (Let me just interject that in my defense, we drank A LOT of wine and the movie "Jerry MaGuire" had just been released. If you've seen it, this moronic geture made sense). Now all that remained was my exit--my "stage right" to turn and walk across the street to my apartment. Suddenly and without any provocation a large massive intruder struck me squarely in the chest. I actually thought my sternum had been broken! What sounded like a child's fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard was actually air rushing out of my deflated lungs. On my seemingly slow-motion fall backwards onto the sidewalk I looked bleary-eyed to my left and saw my "attacker"--a cast iron parking meter rocking wildly back and forth! I was now flat on my back. Jennifer rushed to my aid and knelt at my side. This could have been the closing scene from the film, "West Side Story". I remember that look on her face as resembling a strange mixture of humor and pity. "Are you all right? Tell me! Is there anything I can do?", she pleaded. In those precious seconds I wasn't sure what to recover first my breathing or my dignity. Ultimately, I started breathing and eventually "Jerry MaGuire" was helped up off the pavement. Jennifer even offered a hug. "Do you need me to walk you across the street?", she asked. So thoughtful. "No, No uh. That uh...that won't be necessary. Really, I'm okay", I sputtered dying of embarrassment. We had a second date scheduled. But somewhere between the attack of the parking meter and our next outing, her two-timing beau re-entered the picture and for me it really became "stage left".