Late one summer evening, Miles roared past the DeKalb city limits in a leather jacket on his 1983 Yamaha Virago (Midnight Edition). He was headed for Niko’s Lodge, to see a low-down, no-good band of crusty punks known as Train Company make their best attempt at covering some Rob Thomas tunes*. It was 2010, the economy was still in the toilet, he had a college degree, a part time job, and still lived on campus. Life was pretty grand.
Meanwhile, Bridget was a hot mess who had sworn off men. She was also on her way to see her best friend, Brynn, sing backup at the very same show.
At the end of the night, Miles was outside shooting the breeze with the band alongside a fire pit. Suddenly, he looked up as the crowd parted for an instant. Time slowed down as he gazed upon the most beautiful girl this landlocked region of country has ever seen. And Cindy Crawford was born in DeKalb. He entered a trance-like state, which medical professionals predict he will recover from in about a thousand years. The warm glow of the fire trickled and danced across her face as she stood motionless in the crowd, her sundress hanging on her like birds came through her window and wrapped it around her.
Suavely he smoothed his hair back, and straightened his leather jacket before sauntering over to her. However, a few feet into his journey, he turned around as he realized A) he had no idea what to say and B) he had no game, swagger, or experience approaching strange women.
But on their way home, Brynn told Bridget that Miles had asked her to “put in a good word for him.” Flattered, but still a hot mess, Bridget said, “You should tell him to run for the hills.”
*Train Company is actually an extremely talented and entertaining band, and at the time of press, has never played a Rob Thomas song.