Anyway, when I get to the compound, I see someone who is running alongside me. For the first time in a long time, it's a woman. More than that, she's gorgeous. Good lord. And she's a redhead, and if I haven't told you yet, I have a weak spot for redheads. (I have a weak sport for all beautiful women, but I digress again.)
She wasn't snobbish or standoffish. Actually, she is kind of an extrovert. I don't do much chit-chatting, but we got to Target Field really early because we were told to, and so during runs to get groceries and coffee, we had a lot of downtime, so we got to talking. It's something that helps the day go by, and she was quite engaging, but yes, I was talking to her because she's fucking hot.
As I got to know her, though her, uh, quirks came out. I kind of noticed this first when she wanted to take pictures of the booth the production had for the Game. She wanted me to take pictures of her -- partially because she just wanted them, but partially because she has dreams of being a field reporter, and sports is one avenue she wants to work in. No worries, I snapped a photo. And then another. And then a dozen more. And then dozens more. She asked if I wanted pictures. I am in no way going to be a field reporter in this lifetime, but to mark the occasion, yes, I asked her to take photos of me.
After snapping, oh, 60 pictures, we went down to the field to make sure we knew how to get there in case we needed to get down there in-Game. We were at a place not too many people are, so snap-snap-snap we took of each other on our phones. It was there that she got really, really picky about how she was posed and how the shot was composed. She was really apologetic about it -- "You know, you're gonna kill me since we already took a few dozen photos, but ..." -- but we soldiered on until she was satisfied.
Later I learned more of her backstory. She was raised by her grandparents more than her parents. No shame in that. But then she got cagey about her age. I think I was trying to give her advice about breaking into the business I said I was still trying to break into but, just between you and me, have largely given up on. She's, and I quote, "In her twenties," and I could tell, but I didn't think she needed to be so vague.
---
I thought that was the end of that, and I probably would only see her again when she's doing some local Game on public access. But for a Vikings Game during the regular season, I saw that she was running. I have no idea how she latched onto this network, but I saw her beautiful face and smile again. She was out on the field and I was working in the truck, though, so no small talk. No matter. We both had jobs to do.
After the Game, one of her fellow runners, and someone with whom I have worked with a lot over the years, found me in the break room while I was sitting down with a post-Game meal. He was looking for me because she wanted someone to escort her to her parking ramp, and he wondered if I could do it. Now, it makes total sense for a woman in downtown Minneapolis to ask for an escort; men are toxic, and you don't know what could happen to a solitary woman downtown. But ... I usually stay after because 1) I want to eat free food and 2) to wait so the post-Game crowd can clear out of the area. I hate waiting in a ramp to get out. Hell, I did that at the end of the Twins Game. Sorry, won't do that again. Well, when she came up to ask me herself if I could escort her, I didn't say that. Instead, I said that I want to eat and wait, and when I'm ready I'll text her -- we exchanged numbers while working the Twins Game -- and if she still needs an escort, let's do it.
I usually stay 90 minutes, two hours after the Vikings Game is over. It's me time. But because The Redhead asked, I got done after an hour. I texted her, "Do you still need someone?" Never heard back. After a while, I assumed she found another escort, so I texted her again, "OK, it seems as though you're good. I'll see you around." And that was that.
---
But it didn't occur to me that she could work the Vikings again. And on Sunday she did. But this time she didn't ask for an escort at the end of the Game. She didn't even see me until after the Game was over.
When I do have time to myself, I go to a personal bathroom and poop before I leave. On my way up a couple levels, I saw The Redhead. I thought she had been released to go home, but apparently she was still working. I don't think she saw me; she was walking down the corridor but I was at the door leading up to the single bathroom. When she passed me by, I thought, just for one second, to holler out, "Hey, if you need an escort to your car tonight, I can do it!" But I thought better of it. If she needed an escort, she'd ask me. And quite frankly, I did kind of "reject" her that first time, so maybe she didn't think it'd make sense to ask me again, even though this time I totally would've done it. So I looked at her fiery red hair and said nothing.
Maybe that was the last time I'd ever see The Redhead. If so, there is a missed connection I might beat myself up over, from time to time, until I hit the dirt. Take it, Pharcyde:
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