I knew she was speaking at the conference I was attending. Even though I'm five years older, I don't really have a memory of the events that changed her life as they happened. I was burning holes in the ocean for the US Navy and then later I was changing careers and starting in a new field of work, traveling and working 12-14 hours a day.
I do read a fair amount of history, particularly about wars and politics. We weren't at war then but politics was being fought with warlike intensity. I do think what happened to her was particularly brutal and shows the complete lack of empathy we have as a society. Also the disturbing lengths political operators will go to seek advantage.
I have read everything she has written since then. I find her writing insightful and charming. I feel sympathy for her, that is not pity; just a hope that she has people she can talk to and unburden her troubles to. I also happen to think she is attractive. Not in the conventional way we rate popular people. But in the way smart women can be attractive, what they exude; how their brain makes one look closer at their face and see the beauty in it.
Anyways I walked into the smaller auditorium right before another scheduled lecture and looked for a seat at the back so I wouldn't disturb anyone. The auditorium lights go down just as I'm walking towards an empty seat, trying to not step on any toes. I don't notice as I sit but 5 minutes later I'm observing the people around me. As I look left, I am internally shocked as I realize I am next to her. She glances back at me and our eyes meet, and hold on each other. I think her relationship to fame has been rocky (to say the least), so I don't say anything, I just smile and nod.
Afterward the house lights came up and I couldn't avoid glancing at her again.
She noticed and spoke, "did you enjoy the lecture?"
"I think she brought up some good points. But I can't say that I agree immediately. I will have to reflect on her point of view. I instinctively relate more to your point of view, in the articles you have written."
"Oh, you've read me? I thought you recognized me even though it was dark. Everyone does, I'm afraid.
"You know, we are practically the same age, but I don't remember the public events you lived through."
"How is that possible? Everyone remembers."
"Have coffee with me and I will tell you," I queried.
Her eyebrows raise. "I never... I would never have coffee with someone who thinks they know me."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I would have only told you my story, not asked about yours. Have a wonderful day!"
And I retreated.
"Wait," she uttered. "I'm... It's... "
"You don't have to explain anything to me. I do all the talking. And I'll buy the coffee. But secretly I'm hoping you like espresso, made the Italian way."
15 minutes later.
We were sipping espresso in the farthest back corner of the coffee shop. She had her back to the clientele.
"I don't normally drink espresso. But I will concede that this is very flavorful."
"It's better in Italy. Or at my house- That's not a come on by the way- Just I have more to work with there. But you have an open invitation. For espresso."
She laughed, shyly it seemed, for someone who exudes confidence in public these days.
"So tell me how it is possible you don't remember."
"I only saw one or two line text summaries of the news every 24 hours. I was onboard a submarine for the US Navy. Probably a lieutenant when all that happened. We spent 250 days a year at sea. And when I was in port, we worked a 24 hour day every third day. Plus normal working hours during weekdays- 7 AM to 5 PM. When I didn't work, I lived life full throttle- trying to embody the motto, 'if I die doing this, at least I don't have to work tomorrow.'"
"No way. I don't believe you."
"Well I have the uniform, warfare pin and medals to prove the LT and submarine part. And I have the stories to prove the 'full throttle' part.'"
"Tell me."
"I was stationed in Hawaii. I did lots of things there. But one was rock climbing. Most often we climbed at Mokule'ia Wall on Oahu. For the people that weren't great climbers we did a lot of repelling. At some point, while resting between climbs, we started discussing places on the island that would be fun to repel from. We started thinking about hotels at first. But we weren't keen to get arrested, and possibly lose our security clearances. There was a bridge on the H2 Highway, two side by side bridges, two lanes each, two North, two South, with a perpendicular road underneath, about 110 feet below. That part was important because we used 50 meter ropes.
"We finish up our climbing and wait until after dark. Anyways, after we had planned for a few hours, and did some practice runs on the North shore beside the road. Everyone has their role defined ahead of time. We divided up, one person in the car, who got sent ahead to wait at the road below. The two wives had driving duties since we couldn't convince them to participate. The rest of us piled into the pick up. We had a locking carabiner connected to the hitch and the rope coiled up in the back with the figure-8 knot tied on one end. We all had our climbing harnesses on and set up Australian style- with the figure-8 belay device in the middle of our backs at the waist instead of on the waist in front- like you would normally see. So when you rappel, you are facing downward, the way a sky-diver is before he or she opens the chute.
She is now listening intensely. Probably glad for company that isn't only interested in her past.
"At the appointed time, headed South on the freeway, the driver turns on her flashers and pulls over. The last person in the pickup bed jumped out right as the pickup stopped- now remember we don't want to get arrested- so we try to be fast. It's fully dark. About 11 PM. And he connects the rope to the 'biner. I hook on the rope. I guess as the only officer present, I had to go first. Cars were passing us at 60 mph, all we saw was their headlights. Another person lays a mat over the concrete railing to protect the rope from abrasion. I called out "on belay" and walked out over the edge of the bridge, face first, one hand feeding the rope. It was dark below, I could only see a few meters of rope. There was a street light below off to the side so I had a concept of how far to 'free fall'.
"You don't fall anywhere near as fast as skydiving, friction prevents that. But you can change how fast you fall based on which side of the figure-8 you use. We were using the fast side.
"In a few seconds, I'm on the edge of the bridge, I flung the hand out feeding the rope and started to 'fall'. The adrenaline is hard to describe. It focuses your senses. I let the rope run at full speed for about 100', then seeing the ground illuminated by the street light approach, I crank my hand in hard, going to full stop. Then the rope started to stretch, maybe another 20' and I leaned back, gently hit the ground. Our bottom belay person grabbed the rope behind me and yelled, 'GO!' I ran as fast as I could until I was free of the rope. I yell, 'Off Belay!' and the next person clipped on up above.
"Six of us rappelled down. After the last person was off belay, the last person on top unclipped and threw the rope over the edge. We quickly gathered the rope and piled into the waiting car and zoomed off. From stop to start, the whole thing lasted maybe 1.5 minutes. We were so fired up afterwards.
"Did you really do that?" she asked in a quizzing manner.
"We did. But I can't think of any actual evidence. It must be true otherwise how would my story have so much detail."
"That's... I don't know what to make of you. Usually the men I meet are... I don't like to share about myself. And they are usually after something. I don't like that."
"I've only told that story a few times. For over 20 years I wasn't able to talk about that part of my life. But I can now."
"I know what you mean on that point."
"Well as long as I am breaking down barriers, if you don't mind me embarrassing myself and things getting slightly racy, I've never told anyone what happened next. Do you want to hear?"
"You have to know enough about me to realize I'm no stranger to racy or embarrassment."
"Well... story codes before the story. Just in case."
She laughed. It was a full throaty laugh. Fun. Attractive. "Proceed," she ordered.
"So you have to understand. What we did wasn't dangerous. We followed protocols on ropes and gear. We practiced ahead of time. Everyone was skilled at rappelling, even Aussie style. Every knot and piece of gear was checked three times by three different people. But afterwards we were euphoric. The ring leader, and best climber was a first class petty officer. He didn't work for me directly, except when he was on my watch. I was probably a LTJG (junior grade) then. A party seemed to be spontaneous planned at his house. His wife was one of the drivers.
"Everyone heads home to shower and change. I didn't. Maybe because my house was too far away then. Not sure anymore. But I'm there first with my friend and his wife. There was a liquor store stop on the way there. The next to arrive is this Naval officer. She was a Canadian national, red head, extremely attractive and dating one the Sonarmen on my submarine. Strictly against the rules. Although so was my hanging out with enlisted men and them using my first name. But that would just be a verbal warning. She could get in real trouble and sacrifice her career."
"I can't believe you are telling me all this stuff. I hope it's not just because I'm famous and you want to get into my pants. Or that you think I would do to you what I did for him."
"No. Definitely not. On the him thing. How much do you want me to embarrass myself? You don't even know where this current story is going yet. I have no feelings pro or con about you being famous. If you want to become friends, I am game. If we are talking about your pants, I admit I find you attractive, in a way I find hard to quantify in words. I think it's because I have read enough from you to know your intelligence. And I find that enticing. But I would never try to get into your pants unless you trusted me and I trusted you. And I am pretty sure you will friend zone me way before that is an option.
"Do you want me to keep going with this story?" I inquired.
"What do you think about anticipation? About delayed gratification?"
