But since today is the 5 year anniversary of the adventure, I figured I ought to reminisce a bit and retell the story. It's kind of long, but I think it's worth your time.
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The first thing you have to understand is that this was not a first date. Far from it. Jeff* and I had gone on several dates over the summer and would have considered ourselves as "going out" had I not been headed to BYU at the end of the summer and had it not been taboo at my school to admit such a thing. So when he asked me to accompany him to President Faust's funeral, it was because he knew that I knew that he had known and cared for President Faust and that he wanted someone to mourn with.
So off we went to Salt Lake that bright Tuesday morning in Jeff's recently-purchased car which vibrated at stoplights. We made our way to Temple Square, and then after an hour waiting outside, into the tabernacle. We sat in the balcony, him in his suit and me in dark clothes. It was quite warm.
And honestly, there's not much I remember from the funeral. I remember that they told stories about his life and that the choir sang "This is the Christ." But mostly I remember Jeff putting his arm around my shoulder for the first time. Which, looking back, is not the most romantic location for such an event, and the other funeral-goers probably didn't appreciate our mild PDA.
At the close of the funeral, we stood up as President Faust's family left, and then as other General Authorities left. It was then that I heard a thud. I looked to my left and there was Jeff passed out on the bench, with his eyes rolled back and his hands convulsing. My date just had a heart attack, I thought. This is what we get for PDA during a funeral. Instinctively I reached down and pulled him up. Out of nowhere, a normally-dressed man showed up and turned out to be a security guard. He escorted us off of the balcony in front of everyone. Everyone was still standing as the General Authorities were leaving, and it was dead silent except for the "clack, clack, clack" of my shoes. I was mortified and hoped that the funeral wasn't being broadcast anymore.
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Once we were outside, a swarm of senior missionaries and other old men surrounded us. They hoisted Jeff into a wheelchair and began to ask him questions. In his slightly dazed state, he answered them and then they asked me questions to confirm his answers.
"Has he ever done this before?" one of the old men asked after asking Jeff the exact same question.
"No, I don't think so," I responded.
"The witness said he has never done this before," the old man said into his radio.
We then went over to one of the visitors centers for them to assess the situation more. We went inside a first aid office where a nurse started asking me questions about him. I knew his birthday and phone number, but then I struggled when they asked his address.
"I'm not his sister or anything. We were just here on a . . . date," I explained.
"Oh," she said, her inflection rising then falling. I couldn't read her expression. Probably confused why we went to a funeral for a date.
They then called his dad. They didn't let Jeff talk to him but instead had me explain the situation. "Uh, hi, um, Jeff passed out and we're here in the visitor's center." Kind of an awkward phone call. He then talked to the nurses and then they handed the phone back to me.
"Kyra, they're going to take Jeff up to the hospital. Can you go get the car and drive up to the hospital to meet them there?" I said yes, and then off I went. As I left, Jeff apologized profusely for the third or fourth time. "It's okay," I mouthed back.
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"Kyra, they're going to take Jeff up to the hospital. Can you go get the car and drive up to the hospital to meet them there?" I said yes, and then off I went. As I left, Jeff apologized profusely for the third or fourth time. "It's okay," I mouthed back.
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I got back to the car and turned it on. Put it in reverse. It rolled forward instead of backward. Great. I turned it off and tried again. This time it didn't turn on at all. I tried again. And again. And again. When I realized I had a blister on my thumb from trying so many times, I gave up and called Jeff's dad.
"Oh yeah, the previous owner said something like this might happen. He said that when this happens you should get out and rock the car back and forth a few times and that that will fix it." I hung up and got outside to rock the car (in my heels and skirt no less). As I rocked it, I saw an ambulance drive by. Probably with Jeff inside. I got back inside and tried to turn it on again. And again. And again. Then I gave up for good and decided to walk the mile uphill to the hospital. In the heat of the day. In my heels. I wasn't too happy about it.
As I walked, I called and canceled Jeff's later engagements. "Hey Brandon*, Jeff probably won't make it to the Martin Harris Pageant tonight. He . . . passed out and is at the hospital." Saying it so many times made it more real. It was about this point where the events of the day really started to wear on me. I realized that I just wanted there to be a familiar grownup in Salt Lake that I could talk to. I then remembered that when I had gone to Salt Lake two months earlier for some AP Gov demonstration, I had met my friend Jason's* grandma and that she lived just off of Temple Square. So I decided to call up Jason to get her number. He asked how I was doing. I laughed maniacally and said fine, and he didn't believe me for some odd reason. "I'm fine. My date's in the hospital and the car is broken." He offered his sympathies, gave me his grandma's phone number, and told me that he would call her to forewarn her. I thanked him, hung up, and cried most of the way to the hospital.
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When I arrived at the hospital, I was thirsty, sweaty, and tearstained. Once I had fixed all of those problems, I found Jeff. He was in some emergency room area, sitting on a gurney in a hospital gown, looking completely normal and quite bored. I sat down next to him on the gurney.
"So . . . this is our 13th date," I said. We counted them together starting from my 16th birthday and he came to the same conclusion.
"So it is," he responded. "Lucky number 13." Then silence. The easy conversation we had enjoyed in the car was now replaced with awkward silence, punctuated by occasional remarks about his ride in the ambulance, the broken car, and what might have caused him to pass out. We concluded it was heat exhaustion. The lack of water, the heat, the dark clothes . . . all of it probably contributed.
About an hour or so after his IV finished dripping, they finally let him go, encouraging him to go see a doctor to check out a single "blip" in his heart rate. He changed back into his suit and we left.
"Jeff, I know you were just in the hospital, but you're going to have to walk a mile back to the car," I reminded him. He had a good attitude about it and we joked the whole way back down. After debating between grabbing something to eat or looking at the car, we decided to look at the car first, figuring that if we got it to work we'd be able to drive somewhere to eat rather than on Temple Square. He got in the car and had the same lack of success I did. Just then, some sister missionaries walked by.
"Excuse me," Jeff called, "do you have a car or something to help us jump ours?" They said they would do what they could, and after a few minutes they returned with a van. We managed to get the cables set up right, and after a few minutes, it looked like the car was working. They unhooked the cables and drove off. And then the car didn't turn on.
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We looked at each other in defeat. The only thing to do now was to get some food, especially since it was about 5 by this point and we hadn't eaten anything since 8:30 that morning. So we went down to the Nauvoo Cafe and got some sandwiches. When the cashier said, "Have a nice day," I laughed maniacally again.
"How about we say a blessing on the food?" Jeff asked. I agreed. "I'll say it," he said. As he prayed, I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. "Thank thee that the nurses and security guards have been so professional . . . thank thee that the sister missionaries were willing to help us jump the car . . ." There are some days when it's just kind of hard to count your blessings.
After we had food in our stomachs, we were ready to tackle the car problem again. I called Jason's grandma and asked if she would help us jump the car. She agreed, and we walked over to her apartment. She then drove us all back over to our parking spot. After a few attempts to jumpstart the car, it finally stayed alive (I think the trick was revving the engine while the cables were connected, but I don't remember). Once we realized the car was on and running, we decided that we would hightail it back to Logan as fast as we could and not turn the thing off til we were both safely at our homes.
Since Jeff had had a "possible seizure" earlier that day, I drove. We decided not to turn the radio on because we thought it may have contributed to the car running out of battery earlier that day. So instead, as I drove, Jeff decided to read from a book he happened to have in the car.
"This looks like a great read," he said as he pulled "How to be Totally Miserable" by John Bytheway out. He flipped through and found an appropriate page. "Ah, here's a good section. It's on adventures. Miserable people never have them. They just have bad things happen to them. Happy people consider all trials adventures. When another trial comes, they say, 'oh great! Another adventure!'" I groaned as he read, both because I had been calling the whole day an adventure and because we had hit stop and go traffic north of Salt Lake. Each time we stopped the car vibrated more violently.
"Here's another one. Miserable people complain," he read. We hit another slow spot, and the car vibrated and vibrated and vibrated . . . and then fell silent. It had died. In the middle lane of the freeway. During rush hour.
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"Hey! Turn your hazard lights on!" someone yelled at us as he drove past. They didn't work. We decided that we had to somehow get the car onto the shoulder. I put the car in neutral, and Jeff got out and pushed (and yes, he had been in the hospital earlier that day). Someone jumped out of their car and helped him push, and before too long we were on the shoulder and felt safe again.
Safe, but completely clueless. I called my mom and Jeff called his dad and they both recommended that we go and get some water since it was still pretty warm and lack of water was what had caused our earlier problems. Jeff's dad said he would call a tow truck, and then he would drive down and pick us up.
So, there we were, just abandoning the car and walking along the freeway. I felt very odd about the whole thing, especially about how we were going to get off the exit. We had been walking less than a minute when a car pulled up and offered us a ride since they were getting off at the next exit. They looked like nice, normal people, so we accepted their offer and they dropped us off at a nearby Shopko. We went in and grabbed some bottled water. As we bought the water, we told the cashier the whole tale, and she didn't seem too interested. Cashiers get to hear all sorts of stories, probably.
After waiting for a while on a bench outside, a truck arrived with Jeff's car in tow. We hopped into the cab, and it was pretty clear that it was not occupied by someone who showered much. Luckily, the drive to the car place was short. He left the car in some lot and we waited in a hotel lobby next door for Jeff's dad to pick us up. After another silent and awkward hour, he arrived and took us home. It was dark by the time we got back and I think I fell asleep immediately. At least, I did after rehashing the whole tale 2 or 3 times.
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I think they fixed the alternator in Jeff's car.
*Names have been changed . . . I mean, who wants to have to relive high school?
"So . . . this is our 13th date," I said. We counted them together starting from my 16th birthday and he came to the same conclusion.
"So it is," he responded. "Lucky number 13." Then silence. The easy conversation we had enjoyed in the car was now replaced with awkward silence, punctuated by occasional remarks about his ride in the ambulance, the broken car, and what might have caused him to pass out. We concluded it was heat exhaustion. The lack of water, the heat, the dark clothes . . . all of it probably contributed.
About an hour or so after his IV finished dripping, they finally let him go, encouraging him to go see a doctor to check out a single "blip" in his heart rate. He changed back into his suit and we left.
"Jeff, I know you were just in the hospital, but you're going to have to walk a mile back to the car," I reminded him. He had a good attitude about it and we joked the whole way back down. After debating between grabbing something to eat or looking at the car, we decided to look at the car first, figuring that if we got it to work we'd be able to drive somewhere to eat rather than on Temple Square. He got in the car and had the same lack of success I did. Just then, some sister missionaries walked by.
"Excuse me," Jeff called, "do you have a car or something to help us jump ours?" They said they would do what they could, and after a few minutes they returned with a van. We managed to get the cables set up right, and after a few minutes, it looked like the car was working. They unhooked the cables and drove off. And then the car didn't turn on.
§
We looked at each other in defeat. The only thing to do now was to get some food, especially since it was about 5 by this point and we hadn't eaten anything since 8:30 that morning. So we went down to the Nauvoo Cafe and got some sandwiches. When the cashier said, "Have a nice day," I laughed maniacally again.
"How about we say a blessing on the food?" Jeff asked. I agreed. "I'll say it," he said. As he prayed, I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. "Thank thee that the nurses and security guards have been so professional . . . thank thee that the sister missionaries were willing to help us jump the car . . ." There are some days when it's just kind of hard to count your blessings.
After we had food in our stomachs, we were ready to tackle the car problem again. I called Jason's grandma and asked if she would help us jump the car. She agreed, and we walked over to her apartment. She then drove us all back over to our parking spot. After a few attempts to jumpstart the car, it finally stayed alive (I think the trick was revving the engine while the cables were connected, but I don't remember). Once we realized the car was on and running, we decided that we would hightail it back to Logan as fast as we could and not turn the thing off til we were both safely at our homes.
Since Jeff had had a "possible seizure" earlier that day, I drove. We decided not to turn the radio on because we thought it may have contributed to the car running out of battery earlier that day. So instead, as I drove, Jeff decided to read from a book he happened to have in the car.
"This looks like a great read," he said as he pulled "How to be Totally Miserable" by John Bytheway out. He flipped through and found an appropriate page. "Ah, here's a good section. It's on adventures. Miserable people never have them. They just have bad things happen to them. Happy people consider all trials adventures. When another trial comes, they say, 'oh great! Another adventure!'" I groaned as he read, both because I had been calling the whole day an adventure and because we had hit stop and go traffic north of Salt Lake. Each time we stopped the car vibrated more violently.
"Here's another one. Miserable people complain," he read. We hit another slow spot, and the car vibrated and vibrated and vibrated . . . and then fell silent. It had died. In the middle lane of the freeway. During rush hour.
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(crickets chirping)
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"Hey! Turn your hazard lights on!" someone yelled at us as he drove past. They didn't work. We decided that we had to somehow get the car onto the shoulder. I put the car in neutral, and Jeff got out and pushed (and yes, he had been in the hospital earlier that day). Someone jumped out of their car and helped him push, and before too long we were on the shoulder and felt safe again.
Safe, but completely clueless. I called my mom and Jeff called his dad and they both recommended that we go and get some water since it was still pretty warm and lack of water was what had caused our earlier problems. Jeff's dad said he would call a tow truck, and then he would drive down and pick us up.
So, there we were, just abandoning the car and walking along the freeway. I felt very odd about the whole thing, especially about how we were going to get off the exit. We had been walking less than a minute when a car pulled up and offered us a ride since they were getting off at the next exit. They looked like nice, normal people, so we accepted their offer and they dropped us off at a nearby Shopko. We went in and grabbed some bottled water. As we bought the water, we told the cashier the whole tale, and she didn't seem too interested. Cashiers get to hear all sorts of stories, probably.
After waiting for a while on a bench outside, a truck arrived with Jeff's car in tow. We hopped into the cab, and it was pretty clear that it was not occupied by someone who showered much. Luckily, the drive to the car place was short. He left the car in some lot and we waited in a hotel lobby next door for Jeff's dad to pick us up. After another silent and awkward hour, he arrived and took us home. It was dark by the time we got back and I think I fell asleep immediately. At least, I did after rehashing the whole tale 2 or 3 times.
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I think they fixed the alternator in Jeff's car.
*Names have been changed . . . I mean, who wants to have to relive high school?
Haha, that really was an adventure! Talk about very bad luck! Great story....
ReplyDeleteSo did you ever date "Jeff" again?
Haha, we went on a walk a week later but it was pretty clear that the relationship was over. I don't think it was necessarily this date that did us in . . . we just realized that it wasn't going to work. But we're both happy now so it's all good.
DeleteI've heard this one before! I didn't even read it because how could I forget that multiple-email story you sent me before we ever started college?? :)
ReplyDelete