It’s a good idea to go into a party with low expectations. What we expect out of an event can significantly alter our experience. For example, if I would have gone into Bobby’s house expecting to see Rachel McAdams in a Martini glass… that would be setting the standard pretty high. Given the track record of Bobby’s parties, that type of expectation would lead to certain disappointment. However, because I was expecting Betty White with a cup full of pennies, I was pleasantly surprised when I was greeted by two fairly attractive women in their early twenties shortly after my getting to the party.
After saying high to Bobby and the rest of the crew, I found myself a seat at the couch expecting to discuss who the best guitarist ever was and play video games until 5:00 a.m. as was a typical night at Bobby’s. No sooner did I sit down on the couch than did the two new girls approach me in conversation.
“Hi, I’m Melissa and this is my friend Karen.” Said Melissa, standing barely five feet tall, looking at me with her big brown eyes and straight, dirty blond hair.
“That’s me”, said Karen with a smile. She was only about five-three herself, but looked much taller standing next to Melissa. Karen had brown eyes as well, but her hair was curly and a much darker shade of brown.
“Steve Hart. Nice to meet you.” I said and purposely remained sitting so not to tower over them with my six foot two inch frame.
“Nice to meet you.” Responded Melissa with a smile before they both left to mingle with a couple of other guys.
I later came to find out that Melissa and Karen were friends of Bobby’s friend Roy. He worked at a southern Delaware casino and invited one of his co-worker slot attendants, Melissa, over to Bobby’s house for the mid-week get-together. She brought her friend Karen; thus proving the mistake of assuming that because the girls were from the casino they were over 70 and addicted to slot machine gambling.
Melissa and Karen both seemed nice. I had never met either of them, but was glad to have them at the party. Adding two new girls to our crew of nocturnal maintainers brought an energy that drastically shifted the dynamic of our party. Instead of forming to the couch and passing around the XBOX controller, we were up throwing darts, playing card games, listening to music, and socializing amongst each other.
The party was small. It was me, Bobby, Bobby’s friend Roy, Roy’s wife, Melissa, Karen, and three other guys. The ratio was in my favor and within an hour of arrival, I approached Melissa and asked if she needed a partner for a game of 301 (a dart game).
“I think I remember you from somewhere” I said, knowing fully that I had never seen her before in my life, but that was the best line I could come up with so I had to see it through.
“I think I’ve seen you somewhere too.” She fell for it. We continued to talk and play darts and by the end of the first game it was obvious that Melissa was with me and off the market for the rest of the night.
I could tell Melissa was really into me. Everything I did was amazing, every band I liked- she liked and every joke I told was hilarious. It was a “me too” conversation and I knew it…
“So what’s your favorite band?” Asked Melissa.
“Matchbox Twenty.” I responded.
“Me too!” She said enthusiastically.
“ What about this band right here?” I asked pointing to the speakers while Mr. Jones by the Counting Crows filled the room.
“Uh, yeah, they’re ok.” She responded vaguely.
“Really? I love this song!” I said humming the tune.
“Oh yeah, me too! Oh, this song, yeah this song is awesome!” She said smiling then turning up the volume on the house system.
Yep, I was stuck in a “me too” conversation, but I chose to chalk it up to nervousness on her part and just enjoyed feeling like I could do no wrong for a night. I left the party with Melissa’s phone number and the impression that I had met someone with relationship potential. I called her a few days into my trip to California and talked to her every night for the two weeks I was gone. Then when I flew back into Philadelphia, she was there in her bright yellow Ford Focus ready to drive me home. Within a few days of my return, we made our relationship exclusive and exchanged the titles of “boyfriend” and “girlfriend”.
There it was. Life had finally come to some sort of consistency. I continued to be the most incredible person Melissa had ever met and grave shift was allowing me the freedom to perfect the art of aircraft maintenance. For the first time in a long time, I knew what to expect both at work and at home.
By the time early July 2005 rolled around, I had everyone’s work routines down. I arrived for the 7:00 p.m. roll-call a half hour early to check out a tool box and to find out ahead of time what problems I’d be troubleshooting that night. Smitty was outside smoking cigarettes and making a case for why the Denver Broncos would be Super Bowl Champs in 2006. Kevin wasn’t there yet, but would be showing up late and sneaking into the back of the formation just before we were called to attention. Sergeant Marx had been there since 6:00 p.m. getting the maintenance reports and looking up wiring diagrams at the break room table with a cup of coffee and a bag of chips.
After checking out my tools, I got up with Sergeant Marx about broken planes and possible fixes. The conversation took us right to 7:00 pm. We probably would have missed roll call if I hadn’t seen Kevin racing into the building and bursting right into the roll call room. Sergeant Marx and I got up from the table and quickly took our places in the formation just as Master Sergeant Portis called the flight to attention.
“Flight, ten-hut!” he called. We responded, snapping the heels of our boots together and pinning our hands to our sides as we came to attention. Master Sergeant Portis picked his clip board up off the table in front of the formation and started reading off the names of the people on night shift.
“Airman Bellos?” Master Sergeant Portis called with authority.
“Here Sir.” Responded Airman Bellos.
“Sergeant Creyton?” called out Master Sergeant Portis.
“Here sir.” Said Sergeant Creyton.
As he continued down the list, I thought about the last five months I had spent with Melissa. I reflected on how relieved I was to no longer feel the need to scour the east coast for a person to be with. Melissa was really nice, but she didn’t make my heart go…
“Airman Hart?” called Master Sergeant Portis, interrupting my thought.
“Here sir!” I replied, startled.
“Sergeant Marx?” Master Sergeant Portis continued.
“Here.” Replied Sergeant Marx.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, Melissa was really sweet to me, but…
“Sergeant Morey?” Called out Master Sergeant Portis.
She’s not on this shift. I thought, breaking bearing with a small smile. One of the day shift people must have ended up on our roll call sheet.
“Here sir.” Replied Sergeant Morey.
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