Part 1: Pappa’s and Margaritas

In June of 2002, I packed up my belongings and headed south for Houston, Texas where I had accepted a job with a public relations firm. I had spent a few summers in Houston as an intern with the firm and knew a handful of people, but was still set to leave the comforts and confines of Denison University and Granville, Ohio to fend for myself in a significantly larger city (or just a city at that). But, I was up for the challenge and ready to meet some new people – southerners!

Here is where I make a plug for my parents and give them the much deserved kudos for helping me trek across the country (for the third time) – thanks mom and dad! After moving into my first apartment, my mom, dad and I headed out to Humble, Texas to meet my Uncle Ned, Aunt Jeanne and cousins Patrick and Kathryn for a dinner at Pappa’s Seafood House. Now anyone who knows my dad or Ned, knows that Pappa’s Seafood House is really only good for one thing: two lobsters for $15.99! TWO lobsters, a bargain! And they make a pretty good Greek salad as well.

Regardless of what may seem like mind-numbing details to you, the reader, I have to insert one more tid-bit of knowledge about the greater Humble-Kingwood area: the Deerbrook Mall used to be home to one of Houston’s finest mall restaurants, Beaches. Now Beaches was really only good for two things: surprisingly tasty hamburger buns and killer margaritas (the latter carries more significance in this story).

So here we are at Pappa’s Seafood House, myself, mom, dad, Ned, Jeanne, Kathryn, and two empty chairs; Patrick is on his way and unbeknownst to be, bringing a friend, Chris.

Having enjoyed one or two (maybe three) of Beaches’ “killer” margaritas, Patrick and friend, Chris, arrive at Pappa’s, albeit with a Margaritaville mindset.

As the group got to talking, Chris and I realize that we both live in Houston and were in similar situations – Chris had just graduated from the University of Texas at Austin and moved back (sans friends) to Houston for a job. At the end of the night, we did the obligatory exchange of cell phone numbers and then parted ways. I remember thinking, he’ll never call, but I kinda wished he would…

Phase II: Wearing nothing but a towel?

Weeks passed and neither of us bothered to call the other person. At this point, I was still swimming every now and again at the YWCA down the street. In August of 2002, having just finished a swim, I headed back to my apartment wearing nothing but a towel (and a wet swim suit). I parked in my usual spot, took my bag out of the car and headed downstairs to check the mail. On my way, a gentleman stopped to let me know that his car had just been broken into, so he gave me fair warning not to leave anything in the vehicle. As he said that, I realized I had left my wallet on the front seat. I turned around and went back to the car to get my wallet.

As I walked up to the car, I noticed a “dude” in the car next to me just sitting in the driver’s seat looking at his phone. When I turn around, the “dude” asks, “Are you Jessica Walker, Patrick’s cousin?”

Meanwhile, I’m thinking, “Weird! How and why does this ‘dude’ know who I am?” (Granted my towel does have my name sewn on it in giant block letters).

I respond, with a “yes” and realize that the “dude” is actually Chris…and he’s even cuter than I remember!

So, with me wearing nothing but a towel and looking mighty water logged, we carry on a few minutes of conversation and decide that we should get together…and we did! A few weeks later we had our first get together. To this day, neither of us can define whether or not that was a date, so we’ll call it a non-date for all intents and purposes. Things went well and three years later, we’re getting married! ?

At this point, you may be asking yourself, “why the heck was Chris in Jess’ garage at her apartment complex?” As luck would have it, one of Chris’ buddies from school lived in the same complex. Chris had stopped by his buddies’ place to carpool with him to a bachelor party and wedding that weekend in Dallas. In typical Houston fashion, there was a massive traffic jam heading north out of the city, so they had turned around and come back since they would not make it to the party in time. When I went to my car to get my wallet, Chris had just gotten back to the complex and into his car to head home to Kingwood and try again the next day.

You may or may not believe in fate, but how we got together is actually largely attributable to a series of very coincidental (and fortunate) events!