21 August 2010

Tiny Dancer

Whenever I hear that "Tiny Dancer" song by Elton John, I think of two things: the "Will & Grace" episode where Will confesses that he thought the lyric was "Hold me closer, Tony Danza" and my first steady boyfriend.

My senior year at university was one of the best years of my life. I knew what I was going to do with myself; I had a plan, I had a purpose. After commencement, I decided to stay in Philly for one last "hurrah" and work at a restaurant till I had to leave for good. Oh, Philly: "we had a time . . ." (kudos if you know the TV reference). I knew the city like the back of my hand. Some would say I was the colonial tour guide of the "gayborhood:" Uncles, 12th Air, the Bike Stop, Woody's and a select few apartments . . . but that's besides the point. One night I was walking with one of my fellow-server friends along 12th when I saw a guy heading towards us wearing a t-shirt from my alma mater. We made eye-contact.

Then I did it: the 3-second pause. Over the shoulder look. Devilish grin. And he did the same, that's right: he also turned around.

I asked my buddy to give me a minute as I walked back to introduce myself to t-shirt guy. He explained he was wearing his high school shirt which was of the same name. He, on the other hand, went to University of Maryland and was entering his fourth (and next to final) year. I asked him what his major was. Hence, his nickname was birthed: the 5'7, olive complexioned Italian boy with thick rimmed glasses was a Dance major. I gave him my number and jestingly explained I was attempting to be there for my friend and he was preventing my good-natured qualities to shine through. And on the dull side of a shiny gum wrapper, I began to write: 215.83. . . .

Point of the conversation: It's okay to look back every now and then.

- DeeCue

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