Tiny Dancer

“Live for each second without hesitation.” – Elton John

I have a story for you…

About a year and a half ago, I was in San Francisco,  visiting my best friend, Annie. We had been talking about what to do over the weekend. Go for a hike. Wine tasting. A music festival. Wait what? A music festival? YES.

We decided that on Saturday, we’d drive to Point Reyes National Park to hike, have a picnic and take in some of the most beautiful views. Then on Sunday, we’d go to Outside Lands to see Hot Chip, Odesza, and Elton John. Oh yeah…ELTON FREAKING JOHN. But first…we needed tickets. The festival was sold out.

Annie: I matched with this guy on Bumble and he said he has tickets to Outside Lands. Should we take them? 

Me: Did he ask you out on a date? 

Annie: Not yet.

Me: Is he just telling you he has tickets and he’s going? Or does he want us to go with him?  

Annie: Hmmm..not sure.

On Saturday, before our hike, we went over to Bumble’s house to pick up our tickets…that he gave to us…for free…with no contingency to hang out with him. We parked far away so he wouldn’t see us getting out of the car. I don’t know why we did this or why I’m telling you that.

As we walked into his house, we passed by shelves with tiny figurines that looked like fairies, an incomplete puzzle on the table, a woman draped across the couch and some bacon on the stove. Mmmm…bacon.

Bumble and his friends were hungover from the night before. They were all lying around his place like sloths and everyone reeked of booze. Not judging. Just setting the tone…

Annie and I awkwardly stood in the kitchen, while wearing our mini hiking backpacks (don’t ask me why we didn’t leave them in the car). Annie was silent. I proceeded to ask questions to fill the unfamiliar space.

Me: So…um…what’s the plan for today (knowing they were going back to the music festival)?

Bumble: Outside Lands. Day 2, you know?

Me. Yeah…

Bumble: And you guys?

I think I talked about the cheese we’d be eating later that day and how much I loved cheese. Because…cheese.

After I took him up on his offer to eat some of their bacon, we grabbed the free tickets and headed out to hike and eat cheese. I don’t think Annie ever saw Bumble again.

The next day, we made our way to the festival after a handful of mimosas over brunch. We walked around, danced with the crowds, met up with some friends, snuck into the VIP section (yes, there was drama…yes, I got busted…yes I got yelled at…yes, I still got in) laughing and smiling the entire time.

And then Sir ELTON JOHN TOOK THE STAGE.

I’m not sure I can describe the euphoria I felt while he played Rocket Man, Tiny Dancer, Bennie and the Jets, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. I was truly the happiest person on earth.

While Annie and I were twirling around the uncrowded VIP section (heh, heh) like the tiny figurine fairies on Bumble’s shelves, I looked over my shoulder and noticed this guy. He was um…how do you say…hot? He was sometimes looking at his phone, sometimes bopping his head, always by himself.

Was this a yes moment? Yep. Sure was.

Me: You can’t just stand there while Elton John is singing the best songs ever. 

Mr. Hot: Oh yeah? What should I be doing?

Me: DANCING!

I pulled him over and watched him robotically move with me while I flailed my arms and jumped around like a monkey as Elton sang Crocodile Rock. I was even more giddy now that Mr. Hot had joined in.

As everyone was leaving the festival, Mr. Hot and I introduced ourselves. First names only. He told me he worked for a magazine in San Francisco. I told him I worked in fashion in New York. We said goodbye and then…poof…he was gone.

KIDDING. I stalked him.

On our way home, I somehow found his Facebook profile and sent him a message. Of note, most people in the United States have his first name. It’s actually the 4th most popular name in the country. In fact, I think every one of my friends has his name. So this wasn’t easy. I digress…#expertstalker

“Hey! Swear I’m not a stalker. (Starting any conversation that way definitely means I kind of am.) I’m the girl who made you dance tonight and I just wanted to say that I was so happy to see you enjoying yourself for that last song because Elton John deserves more than just a head bop. Nice to meet you. Hope you had as much fun as we did! xxfiana”

I had visions of him responding and us falling madly in love or him reporting me to the police. It could have gone either way, you know?

More than a year later, while I was in the Dominican Republic, I received a Facebook message on my phone. I didn’t see it right away because I was flitting around in the rain in a gold sequin dress, playing with glow sticks. Like a tiny dancer, if you will. As I crawled into bed, I opened the message. It was from someone whose last name I didn’t recognize.

“Hey there. Sorry, I just got this message (I never check Facebook messages ha).. glad you found me. Quite a nice surprise. Indeed you got me to dance. That was such a fun show. How’s NY life?”

Oh wow. It was Mr. Hot.

We chatted for a week or so. He read my blog. I read his Facebook page (and dug into all his photos). We talked about that night with Elton. I dreamt that we’d meet up at a cute, little coffee shop and realize we were meant to be.

After a few exchanges, I never heard from Mr. Hot again. Maybe my sweet dance moves intimidated him (or maybe it was my world-class sleuthing skills).

But hey, don’t be sad. That day and that weekend will always be one of my all time favorites. The whole experience made me realize how excited I felt about my life ahead. How much fun there is to be had. And how proud of myself I am for creating stories and memories like those to take with me.

I, Fi, am at a point in my life where I feel brave enough to walk up to a [hot] guy and make him dance with me–outside in the open air, around tons of people, while wearing overalls and a hot pink “SUNS OUT GUNS OUT” hat, on a breezy, summer night. And then stalk him and message him afterward just in case he wanted to dance with me one more time.

YES.

 

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