I took the picture. Given the hastiness of the situation, my still-rapid heartbeat from our previous actions, and the fact that I kept the flash turned off, I had no doubt that the shot was going to come out blurry. There wasn't time to check it out, though, much less try the shot again - we would make do with what we got.
When I nodded to indicate that the picture was taken, Merideth thankfully reverted back to her familiar self. I turned the camera off, put it back in my jacket's inside pocket, and put the jacket on. With the seriousness of someone trying to escape a kidnapping situation, we silently exited the stall and moved over to the bathroom door. I opened it, poked my head out, and scanned in all directions. The coast was clear.
Merideth never asked to see the picture, nor did she explain why she wanted the picture taken in the first place. When we made our safe return to our barstools, she reached into her purse, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and set it on the bar. It was enough to cover her two drinks, plus a tip for the bartender who was still nowhere to be found.
"Do you still have the same number as before," she asked.
"Yeah."
"Okay. I'll call you soon."
And she was gone. This whirlwind encounter - with a friend-of-a-friend who I had never imagined "encountering" - ended within a half-hour of beginning. The ridiculousness of the situation made it seem unbelievable. The blurry, hastily-taken picture safely stored in my camera would prove otherwise.
When I nodded to indicate that the picture was taken, Merideth thankfully reverted back to her familiar self. I turned the camera off, put it back in my jacket's inside pocket, and put the jacket on. With the seriousness of someone trying to escape a kidnapping situation, we silently exited the stall and moved over to the bathroom door. I opened it, poked my head out, and scanned in all directions. The coast was clear.
Merideth never asked to see the picture, nor did she explain why she wanted the picture taken in the first place. When we made our safe return to our barstools, she reached into her purse, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and set it on the bar. It was enough to cover her two drinks, plus a tip for the bartender who was still nowhere to be found.
"Do you still have the same number as before," she asked.
"Yeah."
"Okay. I'll call you soon."
And she was gone. This whirlwind encounter - with a friend-of-a-friend who I had never imagined "encountering" - ended within a half-hour of beginning. The ridiculousness of the situation made it seem unbelievable. The blurry, hastily-taken picture safely stored in my camera would prove otherwise.
