London, UK, @1978

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When I was fourteen I was lucky and had the chance to visit southern England for a ten-day trip. The tour was called, "Showtime in London!" We saw several shows in the famed West End. We also visited Bath and Stratford-Upon-Avon. We waved at Stonehenge and Salisbury Cathedral because we were behind time and had to forgo the original planned stop. I vividly recall the coach ride into London from Gatwick. My face was pressed to the window and even though I was exhausted from traveling, I didn't want to miss a thing. I remember in one area seeing a very cute dark-haired boy in a black leather jacket. He was the closest thing to a Punk this North Carolina minister's child had ever seen in real life. I gawked at him shamelessly and smiled. He smiled back, amazingly, and then ran alongside the bus for a couple of blocks because it was slowed by traffic. He tried to get me to get off the bus. He told me he loved me. Fourteen-year-old me was agog. How did the other people from my group miss him? It was surreal. I've thought about that boy off and on in the years since. I even outlined a romcom based on that beginning years ago. I hope he's had an interesting life and has been, and is, well and happy. I've never forgotten him. I wish I could believe he remembered the girl on the coach...