I believe in happily ever after.
I’ve never been one to believe in fate or destiny. I believe in coincidence, and that the more opportunities, risks, and chances you take in life will allow you to experience something that some people might describe as fate. You say some higher power pushed us together, I say I just really needed a drink that night so I went to a bar.
Every so often, something happens in my life that causes my confidence in that belief to waver ever so slightly. Sometimes things work out so perfectly that I have to question whether or not there is some external force pushing me to my ultimate destination. Like the night that I randomly decided to not sleep on my couch (where I had slept the night before) and go upstairs, only for a drunk driver to come crashing through my house and destroying the same couch in the process. I probably should have died that night. Or the time last year that I went out on a Thursday night (never happens anymore), went to a bar that I never go to, and struck up a conversation with a pretty bartender (also never happens). Turns out, the bartender was the younger sister of one of my sister’s best friends and we had actually met once when we were 8 years old. That seems a little fishy for two people to reconnect that way purely by coincidence.
And then there was last week. For those who don’t know, I was on a weeklong cruise to Alaska with my mom, dad, and sister. The scenery was beautiful — green as far as the eye could see, mountains littered with snow, icebergs shimmering in the sea, eagles soaring and perching themselves atop massive trees, spouts of water off in the distance coming from some sort of ocean animal. It was amazing. The cities were great. I went ziplining in Ketchikan, trekked on a glacier in Juneau, rode an old school mining train in Skagway. Everything was incredibly serene, surrounded by natural beauty that I’ll probably never see again.
But ultimately, no matter how amazing the surrounding scenery was, the people I met were the most beautiful part of the entire trip. The strangers I connected with on this trip were exactly what I needed, so perfect for me in every single way, that I couldn’t help but think that fate was somehow involved in every single instance.
On day 1 it was Michael, a football coach from Texas who was ecstatic about the Seahawks smashing the Broncos in the last Super Bowl. We discussed how the front 4 of the Seahawks wrecked so much havoc that Peyton Manning never had a chance in that game, and that all the people who blamed him for the loss weren’t watching very closely. We talked over a couple of drinks. He continually interjected and cut me off, but somehow his southern drawl was just soothing enough that I didn’t mind. I left that conversation happier than I was when I started it. I left that conversation armed with the knowledge that the people on the ship were far more beautiful than anything else I would see that week.
On day 2 it was Ash, a man from Atlanta who loved talking about football, but loved talking about his family even more. We started talking about how bad both the winters were for us, how weird it was that on one side of the nation you could have the frozen tundra of doom and on the other side you had no rain and things were literally on fire. We discussed football, and how the Falcons season had been such a disappointment. Then his wife and son showed up, and his face lit up like the 4th of July. He couldn’t contain his excitement and love. I honestly don’t even remember what we discussed after that, because from that moment on I couldn’t think of anything except how happy he looked. And I was okay with that.
On day 3 it was Peter, a 27-year-old from Indiana who reinvigorated my desire to someday get out of Southern California. Peter is getting his MBA in Indiana, has lived in Austin, Minneapolis and Portland, and is moving to New York for the summer. He is married to a wife that he loves and is also in his same MBA program. When they both found out they were getting a summer internship with the same company, they were ecstatic. Then they found out that his wife was being sent to the San Francisco office for the summer, while Peter would be in New York. I figured he would be upset about the situation, but he was actually kind of excited: it would only be for 10 weeks, and they would both be in amazing cities with plenty to experience.
Peter talked about plenty of other things he had done as well. He had travelled to Vancouver, South America, and Europe. When he moved to Austin on a whim, he didn’t have a job or any plan for what to do with his life; the necessity of the situation forced him to figure out his future extremely quickly. When the conversation inevitably turned towards what I had done, I sheepishly revealed that I had never lived anywhere outside of Southern California. His look was a combination of confusion and understanding, something I had seen plenty of times before. “Well, it’s a great place to live…” he started off saying, but I stopped him. I had heard it all too many times before. I never wanted to leave Southern California until a year ago; now every time I tell someone that I never have it hurts a little bit more. Having just started a new job, I had lost some of my desire to get out. Peter reminded that it’s important to never become complacent. If you want something, don’t be afraid to risk it all and go for it.
As much as I enjoyed my talk with Peter, it was nowhere near as important as when I met Sam. Sam made it so I never needed or wanted to meet another person on that ship again. Honestly, Sam probably deserves her own post, not just a segment of this all-encompassing one. Maybe she will get her own post one day, but for now this will have to do.
We instantly bonded over the fact that we were two of the only people on the ship around the same age; as Peter said, the necessity of the situation forced our hands. But we quickly realized that maybe necessity wasn’t forcing our hands; maybe that crazy little thing called fate had his hands all over us. We loved the same music – she called me her “musical soulmate.” The first night we met, we sat out on the deck long after everyone else had gone to sleep. We listened to songs off my iPod that I hadn’t heard in years. We ran back and forth searching for a bar that was still open, just to lengthen the night a little bit more. We snapped quick one-liners because when you’re in a conversation with me that’s something you have to be able to do. We started talking about life in general, about school and family and relationships, when she dropped this bomb:
I believe in happily ever after. I believe it should be easy.
She was talking about fate, being destined to meet someone. That when you know, you know. I wasn’t really sure what to say, so I just kept listening to the music and singing along.
We were out until 3 that night, then 4 the next night, then 6 the night after that. We watched the sun rise because Alaska is weird and the sun is up at 3 AM. We kept talking about anything and everything, slowly realizing just how much we had in common. We ran around the ship like kids, wishing that we could prolong the transition into adulthood just a little bit longer. When we realized we couldn’t escape adulthood, we talked about the important things, about people we had lost and how our parents needed to live forever because we weren’t sure how we could ever go on without them.
We made plans to meet once we got back to the real world, because we both realized that when you make a bond as strong as this one it would be a fucking travesty to give it up after 4 days.
Fate. It was all too perfect. On all the cruises out of all the weeks going to all the different destinations, somehow Sam and I found ourselves on the same ship. And somehow we found each other, amongst a ship of grandparents, married couples, and children.
I believe in happily ever after.
After that week, I guess I do too.
