I woke on the morning of what I thought to be the fifth to the lovely sight of a tulip.
This surprised me; I did not usually wake to the lovely sight of a tulip and, in the absence of my sloping white walls, I did not know where I was. Thinking back, the last thing I remembered was going to cast my ballot--perhaps not the wisest choice, in a drunken stupor. I couldn't have even said which party I'd voted for. Classless.
Sitting up groggily, I did a mental check. I still had all my clothes and my cell phone was in my pocket. A quick rifle through my purse--I still had my car keys, wallet, and an appropriate amount of money. Of course I had no idea where my car was, or even where I was for that matter. But this seemed like a good start.
Looking around, I seemed to be in a botanical garden of some kind? To my left, a small plaque read "tulips"; to my right, "Christmas fern." Christmas fern. Jesus. I'd woken up in the Christmas fern. For reasons inexplicable, this struck me as hilarious. I began to laugh.
From somewhere to the right of where I sat, nearly in hysterics, came a man's garbled, "What the...?" That silenced me instantly. From the Christmas fern rose a mussed brown head, under which was a somewhat tanned forehead and light brown eyes. After that followed the entire man, and not one bit of him did I recognize.
He eyed me speculatively. "I have no idea where I am," he announced, clearly surprised by this. "Do you have any idea where you are?"
I shook my head and realized I had Zeus' own headache. Surprise had evidently driven it from my mind until the action irritated it.
"Huh," muttered the man, not seeming so much upset by this turn of events as mildly put out. "I have no idea who you are," he continued, shredding a handful of Christmas fern. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Not a one," I replied, thinking it unwise to shake my head again. I checked my phone for the time: 5:17 am, Nov. 5th. I was in an unfamiliar botanical garden at five in the morning with an unknown man but at least I had all my possessions. And cell phone reception.
The man gave a frowning shrug, still seeming unperturbed. Then his frown deepened. "We didn't...?" he asked, his face coloring with distaste. I didn't know whether to be offended.
But at least here was something I knew the answer to. "No," I said firmly, pulling my sweater up tighter over my shoulder. It was chilly this morning.
His relief was evident. "Nothing against you," he insisted. "I just don't like to do that kind of drunk-and-with-a-stranger college stuff. I wouldn't normally even wonder but..." He stood. He had, somehow, lost his pants and stood before me in a dress shirt and polka-dotted boxers. I couldn't stifle a giggle. Besides, he seemed relatively harmless.
The man smiled and I, too, rose to my feet. I felt that I was at a distinct advantage here, being the only one in possession of her pants. "Now that I've cast myself in the most embarrassing light possible," he joked, indicating further that he wore socks but no shoes, "allow me to introduce myself; I'm Justin Horowitz."
"Natalie Wagner," I offered in return. We shook hands awkwardly.
Justin shrugged. "Doesn't ring a bell," he admitted.
"Nor yours."
Rubbing a hand over his face tiredly, he laughed with equal exhaustion before saying, "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Natalie. Now, what do you say we find a car before someone finds us and I am extremely embarrassed?" I readily agreed.
Wandering in seclusion with a strange man was not in my usual repertoire of activities, but if he was going to do something horrible to me, he undoubtedly would have already done so. In any case, I couldn't get any worse off than I already was.
As we attempted to puzzle our way out of a maze of paths, Justin and I made small talk. He was an accountant with an office one town over from that which housed the inn that I managed. He had gone to a college I didn't recognize and was twenty-seven years old. He was charming and seemed sweet. I congratulated my drunken self for at least not choosing the rapist-serial killer that would leave my corpse hanging from a tree by my own hair.
After a little more than an hour, we came across the deserted office of the gardens, and rom there found the parking lot. With an unforeseen stroke of luck, both of our cars were parked, if perhaps not very neatly. I was a bit disappointed to see him go, but my desire for a shower and his dearth of pants prevented me from asking if he would like to get breakfast.
At our cars, we both hesitated. "Normally," Justin allowed, "at this point of the conversation I would give you my card and ask you to call me. But, as you can see, I have misplaced my pockets."
I smiled at him and dug through my purse to produce one of my own. "If an irritated woman with a faint German accent answers, you've got the right place," I informed, wholly pleased.
"Noted." Justin smiled. Then he brazenly kissed me on the cheek and got into his car.
As we were pulling out, he rolled down his window. "Natalie," he called, "who did you vote for?"
For a moment, I thought about telling him who I'd intended to vote for, but considered that he'd woken in considerably worse shape than I had.
"Don't remember," I admitted ruefully.
To my relief, he laughed. "Me neither."
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