Nicky A.

"Just about a year ago, I set out on the road, seeking my fame and fortune, lookin' for a pot of gold. Things got bad and things got worse, I guess you know the tune. Oh Lord, stuck in Lodi again." - Creedence Clearwater Revival

Sometimes you just need a break from being a responsible human being. Last June, to celebrate my birthday, I hopped in my car and drove, with no particular destination, down A1A in Florida. No luggage, although I did pack sunscreen, camera, notebooks. I figured I'd find whatever I was looking for on the way. Didn't know how long I'd be gone. In my typical style that worries my family and pisses off my friends, I left no note and no indication of where I'd gone or when I'd be back. That's why I GO. To get AWAY. And so, quietly, unceremoniously, I did. I have a cell phone for god's sake. Leave a message.

The drive was so freeing, so essentially happy. When I was hungry, I ate. When I was thirsty, I drank. Whatever, whenever. I stopped if I wanted to see something, wove between the lines on the highway when I could. Stopped for views. Took pictures. Treated myself to a fabulous birthday brunch. Stopped at lighthouses, talked to strangers, petted dogs. Reapplied sunscreen. Played music loud. Before I knew it, I ended up in Daytona Beach. As you do. Bikini or tattoo? Henna Chinese character on the neck? I wandered in and out of t-shirt shops, up and down the boardwalk, looking for temporary tats that might be fun to apply in places bosses and patients would never see. A girl in a shop told me there was a music festival on, did I know? I did not. Lighthouse was playing, had I heard of them? Sure. Maybe I'd stay. I booked myself the last available room at the Plaza and realized I had no clean clothes, not having planned this little escapade. So I bought some, plus a toothbrush. Daytona is an interesting place. It's packed with people under 25, roaming the streets. I couldn't get from street corner to street corner without being chatted up, which was amusing, and certainly makes a new girl feel welcome. But there was music on. And I was starving, like "damn, I've lost poundage already" hungry. I was determined to get a comfortable seat for the concert. Much as I love a mosh pit, a woman of a certain age wants a comfortable seat.

So I tucked in at a pretty respectable looking bar, ordered birthday wine and sushi and began to people watch. Was there anyone interesting to chat with? Who was new to meet here? The most likely prospects were a group of pretty good looking lesbians to my right, and...that's when I saw Nicky A. Sitting on the wall, black t-shirt, black watch cap, camera and a tattoo that read "Faith". My blood left my head for points further south, and never made it back the entire evening. All I could think about was how much I wanted to lick that tattoo.

With no blood in my brain, I'm not sure how I ended up on that wall, but end up there I did, and within a few moments I was sitting within licking distance of that tattoo. To this day, I wish I'd taken a picture of it, and him. I do have a vague recollection of some woman yelling at me that she couldn't see, so I scooted right up and said, "Hey. Hope I'm not crowding you. I just got yelled at by some very angry woman. Do you mind if I sit here?" "Oh NO, you're good, you're good." And that's how Nicky A's god-help-me-19-year-old-roadie-from-New-Jersey's hand ended up on my thigh.

I said nothing, for or against. I just let it be, for the time that it was. It was a great conversation, fun, in that young summer way, when only one of us was old enough to enjoy the wine. As it turned out, he was traveling with the band, photographing, and had a kick ass camera. Apparently they all had "really good rooms." I wondered if that was hint. I was pretty sure it was a hint. But then again, how the hell should I know, really. I just let it be. Nicky moved off for a while to photograph and smoke, I enjoyed a bigger slice of the wall. All mine. Good concert, and then it was over. Through the crowd, I could see Nicky turn back and look around, then start waving at me. I raised my wine glass and nodded.

Goodbye, Nicky A., the most beautiful person I met in Daytona. Thanks for a great concert. Keep the faith, and if I ever see you again, I'm definitely licking that tattoo.