The "Dodgy" Knight

dodg·y  (dj)

adj. dodg·i·er, dodg·i·est Chiefly British

1. Evasive; shifty.

2. Unsound, unstable, and unreliable.

3. So risky as to require very deft handling.

During the Giants season I was trying to catch all the games I could while I wasn't working. This is a difficult depending on how my day business was going, and how much I was working during the evening.  

I had the whole season laid out for me on a wallet sized card, but weekly I never knew what was going to come up that I would prevent me from watching my Boys in Blue. I tried to make all of the games I watched, while not standing at work, as enjoyable as possible. I generally went somewhere that had a TV larger than my 13 inch so I could actually see the ball when it was thrown down field. 

There is a place that we "locals" refer to the bar down the street as The Box.  I think that it was supposed to be a sports reference, a dog's age ago, but now we have no idea why it's called that. Judging by the crowd there on any given night, I could sometimes call it the penalty box. 

Truthfully, most of the locals that come here are lovely. However there is another faction of bar goers that laddered up, (as you corporate people would say) to one of two camps.  Either people had been cited for a penalty and were waiting their time given, or were spending their time given in this bar. I liked the fact that no one really came there to watch the hockey games, and usually the football games still had seats available even well into the second quarter. It was a good place to meet your Bail Bondsman, and in hindsight, maybe not a potential boyfriend.

On this day in particular I was there watching a Sunday evening Giants game. I had made my way down to The Box and had watched the Giants lose this particular night. Nights when I come to watch the game, I generally bring my laptop with me as to avoid conversation with some of the patrons which are part of the Box penalty serving crowd. 

I was going to wrap up the work I was doing on my computer, finish my beer and head home in disappointment. I began to collect my various items: pad, pens, laptop.  As I was putting all of my materials back into their respective bags, I noticed that a man had walked in. He waved hello and smiled at the other folks at the bar.

OK, so he must be a local too. He was wearing a knit hat, so I couldn't see him well, but even from this cursory glance, I could tell I had not seen him before. 

As he took off his coat, he was wearing a Giants jersey. I check out the number on the back. Cruz. OK. Interesting.  Popular choice.  Actually a fan though?? Hmmmmm . . .

I continue to watch my version of the Nature Channel here at the Box. The main programming tonight is a roughly six foolish, dark haired, swarthy man. This species looks like he could be Latin or Italian. His jersey, jeans and work boots make it look like he's been working hard somewhere.  Men in work boots = employed? Now I am making all sorts of wild assumptions. 

He puts his belongings on the chair a few down from me, asks the bartender for quarters, and heads to the jukebox.  This is about to get good. All I need is popcorn. I am starting at this man like he's the after school special "New Guy in Town". God help me. This is the best entertainment I have had all night.

The jukebox now goes from silent to the words, "Yeah, this album is dedicated to all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'," and I realize that this young man is playing Biggie. The Notorious B.I.G is one of my all time favorite artists. I'm just sayin'.

So just to recap for you folks at home, our Nature Channel pic of the week is: a Giant's fan, employed(?), likes good music and I find him attractive. He's smiling as he turns from the jukebox and makes his way around the bar shaking people's hands as he goes and the bar tender buys his drink. OK. So he's well liked by The Box patrons.  Plus or minus column?

The next song comes on. It's TuPac. Old school rap. My favorite. I decide that there is more work to be done with this man and re open my computer, take out my paperwork and decide to continue to work while someone else is playing DJ. A Dr. Dre song later and my eye candy wanders past me. Up close he remains a good looking guy. Probably late 20s? Looks like he's a happy man and he smiles as he passes me. 

As he returns by me a short while later, he stops by and asks me if I liked the music he put on.

I responded, "yes," and that it was rare I ever heard rap coming out of the jukebox here. He asked me what songs I liked that he chose. I told him and he laughed. Apparently, for whatever reason, it doesn't seem like I should be a fan of Gangsta Rap. 

Yea boi! 

He offered to buy me a shot and I decided what the heck. I think the bartender suggested some kind of Three Olives Vodka that tasted like a fruit loop. We decided we would have a shot of it to give it a try. 

Drinks poured, presented and poof. We giggled at how much it did taste like fruit loops and continued chatting about the music. I asked him about his interest in the Giants and shared that I was a huge fan as well. He asked me what sort of work I was doing and he seemed fascinated with the spreadsheet. He just kept staring at my Excel spreadsheet like it has the answers to the universe embedded in it. If only it did.  

He worked outdoors and enjoyed the labor intensive job. He told me how it was challenging but he had a good work environment and liked the hours. 

We talked for a while longer about living in the area and some of the hobbies we had. He showed me some pictures of fish he had caught recently and just seemed like a genuinely nice guy.  I realized it was getting late and that I should probably be heading home to finish up my work. I thanked him for the drink, packed up my belongings and started to leave. He stopped me to ask me if he could get my number. I thought, "why not?" and scribbled my number down on a piece of paper. I'm a dater of the 90s.  I still put my number on a slice of paper, and sometimes, said person and I have a laugh about it as I realize that I CAN just put it in my phone.

If you ever used one of these phones, yes. You are old. 

I pulled my things together and wandered home. I sat and thought about the evening. I didn't think that I was going to spend the rest of my life with this man but, it was another date and I still believed in the power of positive thinking. 

We sent a few texts back and forth over the week and decided we would catch a Giants game at a local pub that Sunday. I had the day available, which seemed to never be happening these days, and was excited to get to see my Men in Blue!! He offered to drive us to Miami Mikes which is a giant sports bar. I had never even been there to see a game but there is a first time for everything right?

He picked me up in his late model Honda. I don't want to that to sound condescending and this is not intended to be.  I think of it as more Lloyd Dobbleresque 

"I can't really work it all out now, I'm just kinda hanging with your daughter."

That, and I choose not to throw stones in a glass house. My Jetta is 13 years old, has had 14 recalls and is literally the 90K dollar Volkswagon from the amount of work that has gone into decoding and attempting to fix her lemon ass. Svetlana, as I have been calling her for the better part of a decade, was a befitting name. She was no different than the Russian girls that used to  dance where I bartended (not the other way around). They were attractive from the outside, took a ton of maintenance to keep happy, cost a small fortune to keep up with and at any given time when they had a meltdown or malfunction, it was epic. I digress. . .

As we headed for Miami Mikes he was asking me about my week. I had mentioned that it had been a particularly busy and he was happy to swap stories about work and the like on the way to the restaurant. 

He was a bit late to pick me up, but I wasn't upset. I was just happy to have  the night off and get to sit and watch a football game.  Part of me didn't even really care how it went. I just wanted to embrace my eight plus hours of not serving the community or the social media sphere.  

We may have arrived as the dead last people at the day's festivities. As  I walked in, my enthusiasm was quenched by the throngs of colorful jerseys.  This facility had a number of rooms, ALL OF WHICH were filled.  It was the second quarter and we looked like the Johnny Come Lately's to the party. I was going to make the most of this.  I immediately surveyed my setting.  I was like one of those chefs at a cooking competition. I had foie gras, white chocolate, seaweed and a squirrel to make an amazing meal with. Go. 

Same concept.  

I scoped out a chair which may have been used for a bouncer, and one last chair at a comfortable table of eight I could easily poach. Wa- la VIP seating. . .

I am the missing member of the A team.

As we sat ourselves at my miracle invention we happened to sit right smack in the middle of the stations for two severs. . Manifique! Everyone had pitchers of beer.  I thought that popular convention was the way to go. We got our pitcher of Miller Light and the waitress put in orders for lunch.  I decided on beef brisket and he had a burger. We began some small talk.  The ride over we had gotten in a bit of conversation, but now we really had no way of talking.  

The televisions on multiple walls boomed over us.  He leaned in to ask how things were going. I said great. I noticed that he and I had nearly drank the first pitcher. I having now hit my two glass maximum, was going to head the water route. It was still pretty early in the game, and I wanted to make sure everyone was getting home in one piece. He ended up ordering another pitcher. 

I had not thought about dining when I got our "create your own table" location. Thankfully, the nice men at the table next to us were amenable to our sharing their table. This made for a great way to have a squatters picnic, but kind of made for an awkward first date.  

My Knight would periodically lean in and chat me up about the game.  He had  mentioned  during this time how he really wasn't drinking that much since being out of rehab. Hmmmmm.  I didn't think you were supposed to drink AT ALL when you were out of rehab, but, maybe there are different techniques I am not aware of. 

I didn't really ask about his time in rehab but he offered up that it was instead of doing more jail time. Hmmm. I wasn't really sure why he had done his jail time, but I have this feeling, without even asking he was going to tell me. And of course, he did. It was the blow that jammed him all up.  

Fantastic. 

I've dated people in recovery, people who have been in jail and people who have done drugs. Everyone deserves a second chance. Lord knows the universe helps me out every now and again.  It just seemed that this specific sequence of events didn't bode well for me or honestly even him, seeing as we were a pitcher into his recovery efforts. 

I asked if this was a good idea coming to a sports bar for lunch. He just shrugged at me and said "nah, it's the other stuff I have to stay away from." I am glad to see that the drug community is now distinguishing between class A and class B drugs for rehabilitation purposes? We both leaned back into watching the game and I just wondered to myself "who is this man I am out with?"

It worked out well that we sat where we did.  We have conversations with those around us, hi-fived other Giants fans and heckled the opposing teams' fans. We watched the game to completion. The second pitcher still had quite a bit of beer left when we were getting ready to leave. We hadn't really spoken all that much to each other. He had stepped outside a few times for cigarettes and I had gone to the ladies room a few times to text a friend or two to share the license plate and make and model of the car just in case they heard of a renegade drug cartel shooting up a late model Honda on the news at 6. 

As the check came I politely took out my card with every intention to split the bill with him.  He immediately looked at me holding my card and answered "Oh cool. I'll get the next one." Huh?? I guess I was footing the 70$ plus bill which was way outside my free/I'll pay for myself dating parameters. I just quietly paid the bill and collected my bag and coat to leave. I asked if he was OK to drive and appeared to be.  

On the way home, he shared more stories of his sordid past. The crazy ex-girlfriend, the strung out buddies who made random appearances at his home and the Probation officer he wasn't looking forward to seeing next week. I just sat there wide eyed, nodding, having NO REFERENCE POINT for any of this lifestyle. When we arrived out front my house, I wondered if it had even been a good idea letting him pick me up. There were four choices for what apartment I could live in, but even that made me uncomfortable. 

He said he had a great time and he definitely wanted to take me out again so he could repay me for the afternoon today. I told him it was OK, and thanked him for accompanying me. I wished him well with his probation officer, pending court case and continued success (?) in recovery. 

I walked up to the wrong door and walked into the wrong apartment hallway just to make sure that he wasn't sure where I lived. I think it was safe to say I was NEVER going out with this guy again no matter how great his taste in music was. 

The Diplomat Knight (Part Deux)

The morning following my day in the trenches with the Diplomat Knight I sat straight up in my bed at roughly 5:30am.  I think the horror of what today could bring had woken me from a dead sleep.  The rest of my bunkmates in the hostel were tucked in their beds, sleeping peacefully . I was on the brink of a panic attack. My gears seemed to be going before I opened my eyes. 

What do I do? Do I sell the ticket on Craigslist? Do I go to the game and try to find a fan in the parking lot to sell it to? Do I just eat the $100? AND WHAT ABOUT TODAY! 

The Knight had mentioned when we were parting the day before, that he would have the whole day available today, and "wanted to try to get to see some of the museums today". This was not on my agenda at this point AT ALL. Mission for today was move the ticket, and come up with some excuse as to why I could not spend the day with him. 

First task: See if I can make lemonade out of this ticket business.  It was early in the morning and not too late to believe that I could sell/give away the ticket to one of my friends in Jersey or the surrounding states.  I began to reach out to anyone I could think of. I didn't care about the money, I cared about having a great night at a great game, and making the most of it.  I called and texted Giants fans back in Jersey to see if anyone wanted to come down for the game and a night of fun. The over arching sentiment was that I was insane for going to a game in Maryland, and no they couldn't drive 4+ hours to come with me.  DANG.

Next step: Craigslist.  I put up a post stating that I had one extra ticket, the price and my contact info. I felt like this had to work. Everyone sells things on Craigslist. . . this sucker is going to move! I calmed down a bit. I was willing to sit next to some complete stranger rather than this guy. 

Now I had to formulate an excuse as to why I could not be available for the day.  I can't say I am going back to Jersey because, well, if the ticket doesn't move than I'm stuck with it. I knew he was interested in seeing the game and had offered the money for the ticket yesterday, but I declined because it was one of the first things he mentioned, and stupid me had left the ticket at home. He had put his money away when I mentioned I didn't have the ticket and we both agreed that we could handle the money business the day of the game. Totally dumb move on my part. 

Excuses, excuses.  Where was I going to find one! 

He knew I could work remotely and had earmarked time for the game and touring this day, so how could I make it work related. . . Hmmmm.  

I don't like lying and I'm actually quite crap at it, so this was very difficult. How do I deep six the day together, but not put him off for the game if I don't get an opportunity to move this ticket. As I was mulling over my options the phone rang. It was him!! Ahhhhh!! Instinctually I picked it up before it went to voice mail. My mind was darting all over, combing my brain for excuses. I don't think my brain has ever been so vacant in my entire life. 

He was chipper and friendly.  He asked if I was ready to go into town in the next hour or so to begin walking around and seeing museums. 

"Um, yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that," I said sheepishly. 

Maybe you call it instinct; like the way a mother can pick up a sedan if her baby was stuck under it. Nearly as quickly as I was fishing for an answer in my head I had one materialize.

"I got a call from a colleague who is putting together a marketing plan for their company.  They have some crazy deadline to present it to their big wigs and they are freaking out because they need help with the social media part. They want to bring me in for that aspect of the business, which would be great for me, but this means that I am going to have to work on this project TODAY."

I was shocked at the ease with which this story rolled off my tongue. Who was I? I guess desperation had led me down a path of lying, and I was totally shocked at how believable it was.  

"Oh," he said.  "Will you still be able to go to the game?"

"I think so right no, but I will have a better idea around 2 today.  Does that work?"I asked.

"Sure. Give me a call then. I am going to go into downtown and probably go check out some museums."

Excellent. I had bought myself some time during the day to try to find someone to take this ticket, left the door open to go with him as a last resort and now had the day to myself.  I packed up my belongings, loaded up my car and caught a bus into downtown to have a wander for a few hours. 

I periodically checked my phone throughout the day to see if this ticket was getting any bidders on Craigslist. Nothing.

"Really," I thought. 

I had put a hard stop on heading out to the game around 6pm so that there was time for transit, a bite to eat and maybe even have a wander around the parking lot to see how Redskins fans tailgated. At 2pm he called to check in.   

"How's it going?" he asked.

"Umm, I am hoping to be done by 4pm. Can you ring me then?" I responded

"OK. Let's meet at the Air and Space Museum around 6pm. We can then go get a bite to eat, before we take the train to the stadium so dinner is not so expensive," he added.  

"Sure," I said.  

This gave me two hours to sell a ticket, get back to my hostel to get the tickets, dress for the game and head out. Damn. It really looks like I am going to end up going with this dude. Shit.

When 4pm arrived and I still had no takers on the ticket I gave up. I would just go with this guy to the game and suck it up. I was already hemorrhaging money between the stay, the drive, the tickets, hostel and meals. I was going to have to make this work. 

I rang him back at 4pm to confirm our plans for the evening. He carried on about his day, and I think I put the phone down trying to find the inner peace it would take for this event. I hung up and began to get ready. I was going to have to fight rush hour traffic in addition to all this other nonsense so it was best I got a move on.  

Stop number one on this crazy train: the liquor store. 

When going to a football game, this novel event it is marked with my ceremonious beer drinking. I enjoy having a beer in the parking lot, while wandering around the tailgating area to show my solidarity to those who are there drinking their faces off. I was also going to need a little boozy treat to make this man more bearable for what could be hours. Some people drink till he's cute. I was drinking so I didn't want to run screaming out of this game that I had worked so hard to get to. I knew I was breaking my two drink rule tonight, and I was totally OK with it.  To be funny, I picked up two 20oz cans of beer and a small plastic flask of Smirnoff vodka.  One for the road and one for the game. I was lock, stocked and ready to go! 

I began my journey to the Air and Space Museum to meet him. Rush hour traffic was a nightmare and it was taking way longer than I thought to get there. I had been texting him with my progress, to make sure that he knew I was coming. When I finally arrived at the museum I was over 45 minutes beyond the specced time, starving and dying to get to the game. He met me outside the museum, presented me with some space ice cream (which I love) and I remarked at what a nice gesture it was that he was so thoughtful.  Turns out the explained that this gift was part of a few packages of a multipack he purchased and were keeping for himself. Not so special after all. Here was the guy I knew from yesterday!! 

He asked if I had gotten something to eat. I said that I had not eaten dinner yet, and agreed it was a good idea to grab a bite before we got to the stadium.  He suggested McDonalds.  

"Um, no," I thought. 

I said that it wasn't really my thing, and perhaps we could stop somewhere on the way to the station. We ended up grabbing a bite to eat at a sandwich shop where I had a side salad and a roll and he got a three course meal. He graciously picked up my food as well as his dinner and I thanked him for his generosity.  

We boarded the train to the field,  which was filled with Giants fans!! I was decked out in my Giant's regalia from various kind friends who were supportive of this trip to see our boys play.  He mentioned to me on the ride out to the stadium that he was thinking of wearing his Vikings jersey. I couldn't figure out why he thought this was a good idea, but I smiled and nodded none the less.

As we arrived at the field I handed him his ticket and he paid me for it. It was like someone handing me freedom after years of captivity.  I was awash in emotion knowing now, no matter what happened, I just didn't care. I proceeded to reach into my bag and pull out one of my 20oz cans Miller Lite to celebrate. He looked startled and distressed at this.

"Aren't we going to get in trouble for drinking this in public," he asked.

"You don't work for the State Department any more. What do you care?  Here have one," and I handed him the other can. 

I had no idea about open container laws in the great state of Maryland, and nor did I care.  I was going to have a good night with or with out this dude. He took the can and began drinking his looking unsure if someone was going to come and cart him away to prison for this.  Now this was getting entertaining. 

We decided it was a good idea to wander around he parking lot for a while to check out how the fans tailgated in these parts, and kill some time before the game started. I was impressed at the number of Giants fans that were there.  Periodically we would walk past a group of Redskins fans that would heckle me for my slammin' Giants jacket and some friendly banter would be exchanged. Well, sort of. He would take this opportunity to sell me down the river and share with whomever that I was the Giants fan, and he, being a Vikings fan, had no ties to me or my affliction. Nice guy.

We finished our respective beers and took a few pictures outside the stadium and decided now it was going to be time to make our way into the game. He was dreading the "expensive beers" inside and I knew that this was a great opportunity to really get going with the fun.  Just to freak him out a bit more, I decided to go all hood on him.  

I whipped out my plastic bottle of vodka and proceeded to bend down and take off my shoe. 

"What are you doing," he asked.

"Oh yeah. I figured you may not want to pay for drinks inside, so I got us a bottle of vodka to split. I figure if I smuggle it in in my shoe, no one will notice." A big smile crossed my face as he seemed appalled at this.  Operation Ditch Date had gone into effect. 

I now walked with my "pimp walk" as I was calling it, because the bottle in my shoe was causing me to limp. I strolled through security and into the stadium like a boss. He said he needed to go to the bathroom, so I took this opportunity to head over to the concession stand and get my Diet Coke to spike. I got him and extra cup and we headed to our seats. 

As it turns out, our seats were right next to a pole.  He offered me the seat further from the wall since I was the Giants fan and he didn't really care about the game. I guess that was nice? I said we should move down a few rows till the other people got here so we could potentially sit there if they didn't show up. He begrudgingly moved down a few rows and I was now glued to watching the players warm up on the field. 

No sooner that we had done this but the folks who's seats they were showed up. It was a group of men and women, predominantly Redskins fans, with one Giants fan.  One of the guys in the group told me that we were in the wrong seats. I apologized for sitting in their seats and he told me he would let it slide because I was cute. I think I smiled at him because I thought he was cute too, and then took my albatross and moved down to our assigned seats back by the pole. 

As we settled in we took some pictures of the stadium and the teams warming up he decided that this was a good opportunity to take a walk around the stadium.  I said I was going to hang back and sit tight. I was excited at the opportunity to be alone because now it had gone from a running monologue like the day before to akward silence that neither of us really seemed to care for.  

While he was gone I asked the group of Redskins fans behind me if they would mind taking my picture.  The nice man in the group who had told me we were in his seats volunteered to take my picture "even though I was a Giants fan". We playfully heckled each other back and forth. He told me that he was going to convert me and that he was also going to get my phone number and take me out. I felt that this was bold but exceptionally sweet.  I was trying my best to not let his advances get to me, but I thought he was attractive and funny and therefore I made sure throughout the game to turn around and talk to his friend who was the Giants fan so we could also continue talking.  

The game went on like this.   The Knight wandered around taking pictures, talking with other people in our section and I spent a good portion of the game drinking, talking to the group two rows behind us and randomly hearing the dude who took the picture tell me things like he was going to take me out and make me his girl.  It was like a three ring circus. Everyone was buzzed with the exception of my date who had passed on the second and third rounds of drinks, so I was now picking up the slack and I was OK with that. He had made friends with two dudes that spoke only Spanish and was talking to them about their cameras and not even paying attention to the game. I could have cared!

At some point during the game when my date had gone for another wander/bathroom break/to politic with those in my section, the guy two rows behind me leaned over to talk to me again and invited me to sit with him.  I expressed to him that he was sweet, but I was on a date, and even if I did want to sit with him and his friends there were no seats where he was. He offered that I could sit on his lap.  This guy was phenomenal! I told him he was only hitting on me because he was drunk, and he told me I was a beautiful woman and it had nothing to do with his drinking. He didn't care I was on a date with some other dude, he was trying to pick me up anyway. 

I was seriously considering ditching my date and sitting with them! 

Now that I had a pretty good buzz on this seemed like an even better idea. I began thinking in my head, "If I just make out with the guy behind me, then my date will probably leave, or at least ignore me for the rest of the night."

Clearly this was the alcohol talking and I'm now realizing that I have a long trip back to my hostel, and I need to have my wits about me. I've got to pull the plug on this game/date from hell and get back to my hostel before I am sleeping in the parking lot here. 

The Knight arrives back to our seats and I decree that I never stay for the fourth quarter (again, this is the booze talking). It's late, I'm tired, and I don't want to miss the one and only last train from the stadium when the throngs of people let out.  He can't believe that I want to go.  I tell him I am going to go and he's welcome to come or stay.  

As I got up to get ready to leave, I begin to say goodbye to all the new friends I had made in our section. I hug and kiss goodbye the nice Spanish men next to us and the Redskins fan from two rows behind me sees do this and tells me HE wants a kiss goodbye. For whatever reason, I acquiesce to his request and kiss him on the cheek goodbye as well.   He proceeds to shove a phone in my hand.  He tells me that I have to give him my number so he can call me to take me out. I write in his phone notes: "The Redskins can suck it" and put in my email.  Let's see if he remembers who I am tomorrow!

I stop by the concession stand to grab a hot dog and the Knight goes to the bathroom for the umpteenth time.  I have resolved that as soon as I eat this hot dog, I am off like a shot for the train by myself.  No sooner do I do an about face to figure out what exit to go out, but I run right smack into him. Foiled again! He then takes the liberty of eating the rest of my hot dog. 

I am just as cooked as this dog now.

We proceed to the parking lot and begin walking towards where I think the entrance to the train is. He thinks it's the opposite direction. I tell him that he is not right, and that I am going to walk the direction I am headed because I am sure that I know where I am headed. He takes off to look for signs for the train and that was the last I saw of him.  I am not sure who ditched who, but I walked the way I thought would get me to the train, hid behind a pole so he wouldn't see me at the station and boarded the train back to downtown DC. 

I arrived in downtown DC at roughly 1am. I had no idea where I was in relation to getting back to my hostel and was a little freaked out.  The mall where the Smithsonian was was vacant like I was the last person on earth.  I began walking towards where I thought there may be civilization. Nearly 35 minutes later, I hailed a cab that ultimately took me back to my hostel. Home safe finally. What an adventure!

The following morning around 8:30am I got an email from the Diplomat Knight .

Hey there, 
I tried to find you after we left the stadium but you were no where to be found. It was nice to meet you. Be well.

The pictures of the day before were attached. I guess this is the email I expected and was grateful that clearly both of us knew that this was the last correspondence we would ever have. 

A few days later I was on Facebook and got a friend request from the super sweet man from the football game. Not only this, but as fate would have it, he had emailed me twice during the game after I gave him my email. I never thought to look for the emails because my phone had died and the following morning I was in such a rush to get home, I all but forgot that I had given him the email that I rarely checked. I guess I called him "panoramic" instead of photogenic or who knows. We had all been drinking. . .

Subject: Hey, panoramic dude from the game

Wanted to message you now before a result of the game because I might not want to after lol

Subject:  Still the panoramic guy

Just wanted to let you know you missed an amazing 4th quarter... And I hop to hear from you :)

Remember. . . I love persistence.