A Walk Across The Bridge To The End Of The Rainbow

Over the last few months, Modern Philosophers, I’ve kept you entertained by writing posts about my failed attempts at dating.

Usually, there would be a post, accompanied by photos, of my walk across the bridge to meet someone who I would not go on to meet a second time.

While I laughed off these failings in my posts, the Hopeless Romantic in me was not at all pleased by my unsuccessful journeys over the Penobscot River.

Finally, I am able to write a happy post about walking across that bridge.  This time, however, I was not going to meet a stranger.  I was already walking hand in hand with my date, so I was fairly certain that I was going to have a very positive experience.

The following is the tale of one Modern Philosopher’s bridge crossing that ended on an even better note than it began…

For those of you who haven’t be following our story thus far, my date for this afternoon was The Sweet Irish Girl.

No, this photo is not supposed to depict her as a damsel in distress on the train tracks just waiting for a handsome hero to rescue her.

But if you want to think that, I don’t mind..

I tried to explain to her how these train tracks always remind me of Stand By Me, but since she hasn’t seem the film ( I know, right???) the tale didn’t really resonate with her.

She did, however, let her cab driver take her past Stephen King’s house on her way from the airport.  I’m sure that counts as something.  Maybe not to me, but to Big Steve.

In Ireland, every child has a Guardian Leprechaun, who teaches the wee one something about Irish Magic.  The Sweet Irish Girl’s Leprechaun taught her how to have a psychic connection with pumpkins.

A weird skill for sure, but I’m told it looks very good on a CV across the pond.

Because this is a Family Friendly blog, I cannot always type the caption that first popped into my head when I framed a photo.

Trust me, though, The Sweet Irish Girl laughed very hard at what I wanted to write here.

This is my favorite photo of all the ones I took this afternoon.  In my mind, The Sweet Irish Girl is staring across the bridge at Bangor and giving serious thought to what it would be like to move to Maine.

Also, how damn adorable is her hat???

Okay, this date just got serious.  We are crossing the border into Bangor.  It’s too late to turn back.  This is really going to happen!

This is the point during my walk across the bridge that I usually sense a disturbance in The Force, then I look up to see Imperial Walkers on the horizon.

Not today, though.  All I saw was this…

Happiness.  Love.  No sign of an attack by the Empire!

Popcorn and fried pickles.  All-American foods.  The kind of yummy goodness that could put a smile on the face of a hungry lass from the Emerald Isle.

The fact that appetizers were being served was such a wonderful sign.  Those other dates rarely got this far.

It must be the Luck o’ the Irish!

I’m not usually a fan of The Sweet Irish Girl’s blind loyalty to the metric system.  In fact, talking about the temperature can lead to some real wardrobe issues, and trying to properly set the oven to cook our meals was a wee bit of a task.

However, I’m okay with the pint.  That’s one unit of measure I will happily allow.

Oh, wait.  The pint isn’t a unit of metric measure?  How many pints did I have this afternoon at lunch???

Did you really think I was going to make The Sweet Irish Girl eat a meal that didn’t include potatoes?  What kind of monster do you think me to be?

Apparently, the way I say “sandwich” is quite amusing to her.  She thinks that her American accent is improving every day, when in reality, it’s creeping forward at about a centimeter a day.

Now this is the part of the date where the Death Star always explodes, and I crawl away from the wreckage just happy to be alive.

I’m always thinking…

“Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only dating hope!” and/or  “She is not the date you are looking for!”

Not today, though.  This Jedi finally mastered the art of the date.

Of course, I was also smart enough not to make any nerdy Star Wars references.

On this date, The Sweet Irish Girl accompanied me back across the bridge.  When she met up again with her pumpkin friend on the return trip, they chatted about her afternoon.

I don’t speak much Gaelic, but I’m pretty sure she told that gourd that I was a keeper.

Back at The House on the Hill.

As you see from the enormous smile on The Sweet Irish Girl’s beautiful face, our walk across the bridge went very well.

So for all you Modern Philosophers out there who are ready to give up on love, my advice to you is this: There’s a treasure waiting at the end of every rainbow.  You’ve just got to be willing to wait out the storm for the rainbow to arrive…