Fist-pumps

Day 2 of Orientation: we asked an “International Peer Leader” if someone could show us to the post office on campus so we could mail a letter and sign up for a post office box. The someone who was assigned to us was a loud, heavyset, bearded, cursing Egyptian teenager. He swore at least twice a sentence, no matter what the sentence was about, and is better informed on American pop-culture than Brice and I combined. I learned a few things about the Backstreet Boys along the way.

While signing up for the PO Box he discovered we were married as we explained that we could share a box. For the first time since we’d met him he stopped talking. He stuttered over his words: “Wow… really? …you’re married… that’s… really great.” As we judged his reaction we realized he was impressed.

A few minutes later as we parted ways he told us: “You know? It’s like you’re stronger now. You’re one unit, instead of two people. And I think that’s really great. Fist-pumps, all around.”

Here’s to marriage.

Advertisements

What do you think?

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s