X's and O's

The wheels of the plane hit the tarmac hard and I immediately turned my phone on.
There wasn't a second to waste.
There might be a text filled with x's and o's that serve as affirmations for my heart.

I was to get my bags, take a shuttle to the rental car place, then drive to Malibu where she was waiting. It would only take one hour, but it seemed like an hour might last far longer than it usually does.
TIme has absolutely no role for her and I.
Or, I should say, it has a role, but it's not true to itself when it comes to us.
Einstein, when giving an example of how time is relative, pointed out how if you were standing on a bed of hot coals, 10 seconds could seem like an eternity- but if you were courting a pretty young lady, an hour could seem like a minute.
He must have known her, too….


Baggage claim is a drag.
Everything is a drag for the next hour.
Everything that stands in my way of her must be defeated quickly, cleanly and regardless of tact.

After 5 excruciating minutes, my 50 –pound bag comes around the filthy merry-go-round. I grab it with one hand and, in one throw, toss it onto the baggage rack on the moving Avis shuttle bus 500 meters away.
In one step I'm out of the building, across the street and sitting on the bus staring coldly at the driver. Any activity that he pursues that I deem a waste of time will go severely punished. I am watching the road through the giant windshield. I am waiting for him to make the wrong move that might obstruct my plan…that might delay our love!

He follows what I assume is his normal route and begins to slow down at the next terminal. This really wasn't going to work for me. I took out my keychain and quietly stuck my house key into the jugular vein on the right side of his neck. He grabbed hold of my arm for a second, but slowly weakened as he fell from the drivers seat to the floor. I grabbed the wheel with my left hand as I placed him down to lie with my right. I slipped my legs under the wheel and began to accelerate.

The other passengers on the shuttle bus began to grumble, but once they realized that I was only interested in hastening our trip, they calmed and quieted.
I felt like a captain of a great ship, I felt like the wheel was made of wood and I was steering us across the wild seas of El Segundo.
The time passed quickly.
It was only a few minutes to the AVIS lot.
I turned into the gate and ran over the guard who was on duty.
A hesitant yet audible applause came from the back of the bus.
We were here.

I pulled the lever and opened the door. I reached back with one arm and grabbed my 50-pound bag from the baggage rack on the bus and tossed it across the sidewalk, through the doors and into the Avis station, right in front of the next available agent.
In one step I was off the bus, across the sidewalk and waiting with my wallet in my hand.

The agent asked for my confirmation number.
I gave it to her.
She asked for my license.
I gave it to her.
She asked for my credit card.
I gave it to her.

I counted to 20.

She asked for another government form of ID.

I punched her directly in the throat.
She fell back as I grabbed my license and my credit card.

I lifted my bag and walked outside to the nearest car-
The door was unlocked and the key was in the ignition.
I started it up and drove it to the exit gate. The guard I had run over earlier with the bus was still unconscious. I made a left and headed for the 405.

I'm not sure if Toyota Tercel's are supposed to go 115 miles per hour, it certainly sounded like it wasn't- but it was no concern of mine.
I had a woman to see.
Not just ANY woman, but the woman I was madly in love with.
And love knows no speed limits.

There was construction on the highway.
There were men working.
There were bright lights and orange cones and sounds of concrete being drilled into.
It was the soundtrack to my pilgrimage back to the holy mecca of Alecia's heart.

I turned off the 405 and onto sunset and was headed for the PCH.

As I made my way through Brentwood I wondered what she was doing. I wondered if maybe she was taking a shower. I thought maybe she was making a drink for herself, anticipating our rendezvous.
Or maybe she was playing with the dogs?

As I breezed passed Bundy and into The Palisades I pondered as to what she might be wearing when I arrived. Perhaps a pair of jeans and a T-shirt?
I've seen men cry in public when seeing her dressed like that.
Or maybe a dress? One of her secret weapon dresses that makes me feel like an 8th grade boy. One of those dresses that you only see once, and remember forever.
She has a few of those.

Or perhaps a skirt?
To even IMAGINE her in a loose, white cotton skirt gives me goose pimples.
I look down at my forearms and confirm that the little bumps have risen off my skin in sheer uncontrollable excitement. This woman has powers over me that I cannot control.
I am turned on.

As I headed up the PCH I realized that I was going to have to face some stop lights.
I would face them cautiously and, if they were green, I would accelerate through them- if they were red, I would accelerate through them.
Love knows no stoplights.

I knew I was getting closer to her because I could hear my heartbeat louder than the pistons in the engine of the car. Yes, my heart has more horsepower than a Toyota Tercel.
It can barely keep up with the double jet engines in her chest.
You should hear them.


I turn and turn and turn until finally I arrive at her developement.
The gate was made of wood and wasn't strong enough to hold my Rental back.
Like the sound of a wooden bat breaking from a fastball, the gate snapped, I fumbled over the speed bumps and left the bewildered security guard running and screaming.

I hear the propellers in her heart start up.
I smell the rocket fuel burning.
I feel the unseen magnetism that is our love pulling us towards each other.

She is there.
She is waiting for me in her driveway.
She is sitting on her car.
She is holding a drink.
She is with her dog.
She is wearing the white skirt.
She is smiling.

i'm no Einstein, I'm pretty sure this is a good sign.