On the evening of Wednesday, June 2nd, 1993, the Naval Antarctic Support Unit (NASU), Christchurch, New Zealand, held one of its periodic Hail and Farewell ceremonies after working hours at the Southern Lights Bar, located on the edge of U.S. Navy property close by Christchurch International Airport. The event on this particular evening marked the departure of the current base Supply Officer, Nan, and the arrival of the new SUPPO - me, a fresh-faced lieutenant, recently arrived from a duty station near Washington, DC.
I had worked closely with my old friend Nan (we were friends back at the Naval Academy a few years earlier) for the past couple of weeks since I landed in NZ, meeting the people and learning the ropes related to my position. This day was our last joint stewardship of the office, and we spent the morning and early afternoon turning over responsibilities, with Nan providing me with the final bits of information and instruction needed to fully get into my new job at NASU. But she left the administration building earlier than usual that afternoon, ostensibly to run some errands out in town and to head home to prepare for the evening's festivities. I slogged away at paperwork for the rest of the day, then at five o'clock I quickly changed into civilian clothes, left the office and walked over to the Southern Lights (my car was still weeks away from arriving; I assumed it was on a container ship somewhere in the Eastern Pacific at that time). Some petty officers were already there, getting things ready along with the civilian bar staff. I was one of the early arrivals at the bar, so a grabbed a beer and tried to make myself useful, helping set up the stage and all for the ceremony and party that followed.
I was there working away diligently, hanging crepe paper and running microphone wires across the floor, and didn't really notice when Nan arrived about half an hour afterwards. I only realized she was there when she called my name. I turned from my work to find that she had not arrived alone - next to her stood a girl . . . quite possibly the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life. She was young, no older than 22, with a lovely face framed by long, flowing golden hair and a tight little body that you could break rocks on, one that was perfectly proportioned in all the right places.
I'm sure at that moment I had a look of shock and awe on my face - that goofy look all guys get when they are suddenly faced with a smoking hot woman - but I quickly straightened out my features (at least, I thought I did) as I stepped towards my old friend and this angel that accompanied her. If Nan saw the look I had, she tactfully didn't mention it. What she DID do was introduce me to her friend - "I'd like for you to meet . . . " - well, for this story, let's call her 'Fiona'.
I have no idea what sort of noises stammered out of my mouth as I shook Fiona's hand - I can only hope that what I said was semi-coherent and not flecked with the spittle and marbles that suddenly seemed to fill my mouth. Yes - she was just THAT flabbergastingly beautiful. To cover my stuttering, self-conscious embarrassment at being so near to this vision's gorgeous presence, I quickly offered to get both her and Nan a drink from the bar - if only to get away from Fiona for a few seconds and gather myself together. I only bumped into two people while making my strategic, hazy, hasty retreat.
While I stood waiting for their drinks, my mind racing and heart thudding against my ribs, I tried to suss out why Nan had brought Fiona along to this dreary Navy event in this rather dingy little military bar. I couldn't for a moment fathom that Fiona was there for my benefit, and Nan was making a conscious, calculated attempt to throw the two of us together to see what might occur. I just figured that Nan had decided to bring an old friend along to her final NASU function, and everything else was just a figment of my overactive (and hopeful) imagination.
But to my mild shock and utter joy, I discovered as the evening wore on that Nan had brought Fiona along for PRECISELY that reason - to introduce her to me and possibly play matchmaker between the two of us. Unbeknownst to me, Nan had been 'talking me up' to her unattached friend in the days after my arrival in country, and Fiona was eager to meet me. I brought their drinks over and sat with the two of them for a while, and found myself chatting at length with Fiona; I found that she was just as funny and charming as she was beautiful. In no time at all, we were laughing and chatting away like we had known one another for years. I was attracted to her immediately - the whole person, not just the package. I began thoroughly enjoying her company and presence near me - so much so that I didn't notice when Nan slipped away and left the two of us together alone (heh - that sly lady . . . what a friend!).
At one point during the Hail and Farewell, I had to get up on stage with the NASU Commanding Officer to be introduced and to say a few words. That briefly left Fiona by herself at our table. I was savvy enough to notice during the time we'd spent talking together the furtive, hungry glances directed at her by some of the other attendees, so I knew that the 'wolves' would be pouncing the moment I left her by her lonesome (I personally think that that's a cardinal violation of the unwritten "Code of the Guys" that men live under, but that's neither here nor there . . . ). As I stood and did my thing, I watched as the first would-be snake slithered over to make his move. In no time at all, Fiona had sent him scurrying away; she apparently was an expert at that sort of thing - not only putting the guy in his place, but also serving notice to the rest of the pack that she was there with me for that evening. After that, I couldn't help but like her more and more.
After the main events, everyone hung out at the Southern Lights for the after-party. Fiona and I mingled for a bit, then went back together to the bar's game room. We played shuffleboard as a team against two other NASU guys (I can't remember if we won or lost - frankly, it didn't really matter much to me at the time). And we shot pool on the base table, where I had occasion to execute a textbook "guy" move on a pretty girl, the "teaching-her-how-to-hold-the-cue-and-aim-at-the-ball" routine, with me standing behind her, holding her close in front of me.
After a while, the party at the Southern Lights began breaking up, so I threw caution to the wind and asked this lovely woman out to dinner with me that evening. She eagerly accepted, which pleased me to no end. We took her white station wagon down the main drag into downtown Christchurch, and ended up eating in the dining room of the Rydges Hotel, hard by the River Avon - the swankiest place I knew of in my limited access into the city. During our dinner, and in fact during that entire night, she was as sweet and delightful a person as I'd ever met in all my life.
After dinner, she drove me back to my temporary accommodations, a corner suite at the Airport Gateway Motel off of Memorial Avenue, and we said our good nights with a handshake and a quick peck - but not before I managed to wrangle her phone number and a promise of a second date out of her (I say 'wrangle' . . . but I don't recall her hesitating very much . . . !). I walked into my Spartan little room that night, giddy about my future in Christchurch, and completely head-over-heels for this amazing girl. You dream about things like this coming to pass, and they rarely if ever do. However, when the impossible happens and lightning does strike - wellsir . . .
Fiona and I had our second date that weekend, and in the days and weeks that followed spent more and more time together. Before the month was out, we were firmly established as a couple. She all but moved into my temporary lodgings with me; I'd make her pancakes some mornings, and in the evening sometimes we would just stay in, snuggling on the couch watching "Shortland Street" or something else on one of the four New Zealand TV channels that existed at the time. She was fascinated by everything
And due to Fiona, I got my first full-scale immersion in this new land that was to be my home for the next couple of years. With her as my guide and driver, we went out and about. My first trips to Sumner, Lyttleton, the Banks Peninsula and Kaikoura were made with her. She showed me where to find the best local restaurants for Kiwi fare - from the extensive local wine selection at Saggio Di Vino to the steamed mussels at the Dux de Lux and the delicious desserts at Strawberry Faire. We did highbrow stuff - like attend a formal reception together for New Zealand military officers. We did
My car finally arrived in late July (along with the rest of my household goods), and soon afterwards I moved into a little bungalow in Hoon Hay, a neighborhood near the southern edge of the city. Fiona was over a lot, and we'd spend time hanging out there enjoying one another's company, or she would go through my already voluminous music collection, playing whatever tickled her fancy. I was working out at the NASU "Powerhouse" gym practically every day, hitting the weights or utilizing the recently-constructed glass-walled racquetball court. And most of the time Fiona would come along with me. We made quite a couple - arriving on base in my gleaming golden Porsche, and stepping out into the Powerhouse Gym parking lot, with her dressed in a form-fitting leotard. During some of our early visits there, she used the weights or stretched alongside me, and drew many a lustful eye in her direction. But soon she decided that she wanted to make use of the building's aerobics area, and asked if I could make her a mixtape of songs she selected from my collection to work out to.
One of the first songs she selected for me to tape for her was a tune I'd introduced her to a few weeks earlier, "Push Th' Little Daisies" by Ween. She loved this song so much, that it was usually one of the first things she'd put on the stereo when she came over my place; she'd bounce around the house while the band belted out their insanely, annoyingly catchy tune:
Ween was formed in New Hope, Pennsylvania in 1984 by two misfit junior high school students, Aaron Freeman and Michael "Mickey" Melchiondo, Jr., who met in 8th grade typing class. They initially didn't like each other, but soon found that they had a lot in common, socially and musically. They began jamming together (both were multi-talented instrumentalist, with a penchant for the absurd), and soon formed the band Ween, an abbreviated version of the common schoolyard portmanteau rank-out word "weenis" (combining "wussy" and "penis"), adopting the respective personas of "Gene Ween" and "Dean Ween". During their remaining years in junior high and high school, Ween produced a series of self-released home recordings on cassette (with names like The Crucial Squeegie Lip and Erica Peterson's Flaming Crib Death). They also gained a loyal audience playing shows at local New Hope bars.
"When I find you in your sleep, SarahI will tell you what you mean to me,SarahI know this big world ain't always what it seems, SarahForever may I love you, and forever may you dream, SarahWhen I find you in your sleep, SarahI will tell you what you mean to me, Sarah"
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