It's been said you need three kinds of friends:
- Friends who own a bar.
- Friends who own a boat.
- Friends who own a beach house.
Our good friends, Marti and Brian, graciously became the third kind when they slipped the surly bonds of their stifling HOA governed townhome community in the suburbs for a beach view in Ocean City, Maryland. You've met these two before; they're the same folks from way back on the very first Rock-tober post twelve years ago.
Marti holds a special place for Andrea and me as she's one of the first friends we met as a couple. Before her, Andrea and I both had our own circle of friends we brought to the relationship. These circles didn't always mesh neatly, but Marti gave us a fresh start together. Since our first introduction in the early '90s, we've maintained contact through several job relocations and cross-country moves.
When Marti introduced us to Brian, the tale of their meeting was epic.
Marti was hanging with a girlfriend at a club when Brian spotted her from across the way. Knowing a good thing when he saw it, he made his way towards her. Here's the thing about Marti. She's adeptly fluent and skilled as a sign language interpreter, and this evening, she was conversing with her friend in American Sign Language (ASL).
Brian took this scene in, and, not knowing if Marti was deaf and not knowing a lick of sign language, he boldly strolled up to Marti and asked if he could buy her a drink. When Marti then spoke to him, he was probably relieved, but it didn't go his way.
"No thanks, Dude."
"No drink? How about a Coke?"
"Go away."
"Water?"
"Go! Away!"
Brian went away. While fate can be fickle, she occasionally smiles. Nearly 6 months later at the same club, Marti and Brian crossed paths again. She was more amenable this evening and struck up a conversation with him, even remembering his name.
That encounter led to an all night conversation that lasted the rest of the night and into the next day. On day 2, Brian had not left and the conversation was still going strong. Somewhere in that time frame was a trip to DC to catch the cherry blossoms and a trip to CVS where Marti bought Brian a toothbrush.
By day 3, Brian hit the pause button, "Marti, I've got to go home and grab a shower and a change of clothes. But I'll be back, and we're having dinner tonight."
They've been together ever since, and they continue to keep a literal tally of their days together. They eventually tied the knot on day 1,206. If you ask either of them, they'll give you the current day's count. As I write this, it's day 8,233.
We last met them for virtual cocktails over Zoom a few weeks ago as they were just settling into their new home. I joked that they'd have to have Jimmy Buffett on a continuous loop somewhere in their home if they're truly going to embrace the seaside lifestyle.
While not die-hard Parrot Heads, they did mention an affinity for Buffett's last song. Released posthumously, "Bubbles Up", was considered Buffett's parting gift to his fans.
In Navy survival training, escaping an enclosed, submerged space can be disorienting. Trainers admonish their students, "Bubbles Up!" The directive was simple. Follow those bubbles; they'll lead you home.
Marti and Brian featured in my first Rock-tober post. Now, twelve years later, I continue to share their story and am excited for this new chapter in their lives. They've unknowingly followed the Buffett mantra of "changes in latitude = changes in attitude", and they've been able to lean into Buffett's last request and followed their bubbles home.
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