Grr—They're Always Taken

[king james version]

My Playa Missed Connection

There I was, minding my own business, biking along the outer rings in search of a bit of wood on which to display the small steel sculptures I made this year. A smiling soul flags me down, inviting me to happy hour at Joy Camp (joy hour at happy camp?). After getting playfully hassled for wanting juice without the alcohol—this was the year I chose to try out my oft speculated-on idea of going completely substance-free on the playa—I settled in to a comfy nylon camping chair. The sun was still a good hour from setting, but it was creeping in, casting great shadows, and warming all in attendance. Due to the efforts of the friendly, streetside flag man, the group grew to a lovely hum. More lovely than I could have imagined, in fact.

"Mind if I sit down?"

When a red-haired playa angels asks a question like that, there is only one answer:

"I'd be honored."

The next half hour was molten metal, now cooled and cast for longevity.

We talked of art and passion, of taking risks and moving through transitions. She told me of the 70's dress she found at the thrift store, how hideous it was, how the woman in the store commented favorably on it, and how fantastic she now looked in it after its drastic alterations.

We talked of where we were from and where we were going. She was from Bend and moving to Ashland, or maybe the reverse. Now you already know from the title, gentle reader, what comes next. But please don't judge. In the context of talking about what was next for her and her business, the mention of her husband arises. Of course we've all had the B-word/G-word/H-word/W-word dropped on us, and frequently it's maliciously given or is an outright lie. But this wonderful woman was so at peace with herself and her life and our little conversational slice of the world, that it was more just another breath than anything else. It didn't really change the conversation, as it so often does. It was almost as if, for just this one little half hour, we had known been in love for years, and this was just an afternoon chat to review a day or a lifetime. And with all due respect, it was perfectly innocent as well.

So here's to you, Wiggles. I wish you and your husband the best in your upcoming adventures. Thank you for your unrestricted kindness and warmth and creativity, for listening with a genuine ear, for speaking from the heart, for restoring my faith in finding someone like you. Oh, and one more thing: I forgot to ask if you have a twin sister that lives in West Oakland.

Love,
King James Version

[?uestion]

Thanks for eloquently describing such a beautiful moment. I'll throw a coin in a fountain so that you can meet that twin sister who I know is out there just for you...

[spectabillis]

yeah, i did her.

[Soul_Mongo]

dude, that's f$$$ed up.

[ubu]

that is one of the nicest, most articulate, descriptions of a "playa moment" encounter.

sometimes, that's all you need. doesn't mean you don't think about it later. and she might be thinking of you as well....

I've had some real playa moments myself. So lovely.

Once I met a married woman in a bus station in DC and we had a wonderful encounter looking into each other's eyes and talking. I held her hand. Your story brought that back to me. Something about a stranger, and a moment....

It could happen for you today in a cafe in Oakland. It looks kind of sunny out there!

[The CO]

Sometimes the good ones are just as dissapointed to be taken. BRC is a place where one can be especially prone to meeting someone and connecting in seconds. The good ones might feel just attracted/lovestruck as the one cursing the status of availability. On the other hand, in BRC(and other places too), just because they're married/dating doesn't mean they're off-limits. You might be surprised who's "playa-single". I'm sure someone has a sister in Oaktown just waiting for you...