Love Story: Puerto Rico

Episode #7

beachA few weeks after our engagement, I was scheduled to go to Puerto Rico with my dad and step-mom.  For some reason they thought it would be a nice idea to let me come along with them on their winter get-away.  Since I was a grown-up girl, they figured I would be low-maintenance.  They could do some sight-seeing and leave me to sunbathe by the pool.

It was extremely generous of my parents to share their vacation with me, and I was excited about going.  That is, until a sparkly diamond ring was securely on my finger.  The thought of leaving my brand new fiancé was more than I could bear.  I wanted to be with him every second of every minute of every day.  But, alas, the plane ticket was purchased so I had to leave the snowy, subzero midwest for the beautiful beaches of an island in the Caribbean.

I cried the whole time.

Well, not the whole time, but enough of the time that I put a real damper on the vacation.  I wrote love letters and sad poems while sitting by the pool.  I longed to talk to PB, but phone calls were out of the question.  Every beautiful sunset made me cry because he wasn’t with me.

The day we were to fly home, there was a huge blizzard that shut down O’Hare.  I was beside myself.  We got as far as Miami but couldn’t get a flight back to Chicago.  I begged my dad to get me home to my true love.  I’m sure he was just as anxious to bring the vacation to an end as I was.  He managed to find a flight to Kansas City where we waited on standby for another flight to Milwaukee.  Finally, we three bedraggled travelers boarded a train and headed west.  I called PB and explained the situation.  Between “I love you” and “I miss you”  I told him where the train was coming in (30 miles away) and when (midnight).  A little blizzard wasn’t going to stop him from getting to me.

In the middle of the night, the Amtrak pulled in to a quiet station.  Because we hadn’t planned on this route home, we didn’t have any winter coats with us.

The train stopped and the three of us stepped off with all our luggage.

Into a snow bank.

On the wrong side of the train.

We stood there, in our t-shirts and shorts, shivering as the length of the train zoomed by.

When the caboose finally passed, I looked up on the platform.  I could faintly see an outline of a handsome figure through the falling snow.  My rescuer.  I was so happy to finally see him after suffering through that long week in Puerto Rico.

So was my dad.