It was Memorial Day weekend 2006. The sun was shining boldly behind a veil of fog, itself the frequent but still unlikely product of unicorn tears and greenhouse gases. Even still, something different also hung in the air. Some say it was Woody Allen filming his newest action flick. Some say it was the residual runoff of the great Eucalyptus fire of '04. Others believe it was an ever so slight shift in the number of neutrinos impacting the planet as we float majestically and inexplicably through interstellar space. That's what some believe, but we know differently. Love was in the air, and it was fantastic.
That evening, as is well documented, was the third blue moon in as many months and, according to tradition, Valhalla itself opened revealing the cold mise-en-scène of Thor's workshop. As the moonlight struck off Thor's anvil (elementary physics teaches us moonlight won't strike his hammer directly… duh) the reflected glory pierced into Ben's third eye and woke him from a Rip Van Winkle-esque slumber. The message carried on those glorious dual wave-particle photons alerted Ben to a beautiful damsel who, though certainly not in need of rescuing, was in fact very bored and in need of a delightful conversation. Being well known as being the greatest Kentucky-born conversationalist since Henry Clay (rest his soul), and not being one whose momma taught him to let a beautiful woman go bored, Ben sprung into action. He shook off the cobwebs of that ancient REM-cycle, donned in his sharpest hoodie, and headed towards the Lower Haight.
As yes, the Lower Haight, once known as the delightful intermediary neighborhood connecting Upper Haight (delightful hippies and those that are less so), Alamo Square (tourists with cameras, oh my!), Hayes Valley (the very definition of gentrifying), and Duboce Park (dogs who poop and the people who hate to pick that ish up). Lower Haight, once known as the seat of the most beautiful murals not in the Mission and that one bar that serves 300 beers. Lower Haight, once known as the underrated thoroughfare between the places that matter and the places that make their names known in guides books. Lower Haight, the 9 block x 5 block neighborhood now redefined the world over as Cupid's playground.
And lo, Cupid's bow was primed and ready. As Ben arrived energy waves shook through the party. Laura's sensors (you have those too you know, just not as good as hers) picked up on his presence. She sharpened her wit (not that it needed it mind you, but just to show solidarity with Abe Lincoln who'll spend the first 4 hours sharpening his axe before ever trying to chop down that tree) and poured some more jungle juice. Confident, strident, imbued with purpose (and with an MMS from Thor's anvil of Ben's face) she silently stalked her prey.
Meanwhile, Ben's third eye was having connection problems (thanks T-Mobile!), so he had to fall back on more rudimentary technology, his first two eyes. He scrambled, attempting first to chat up the dinosaur-shaped cookies, then a stack of Yellow (YELLOW!) Solo cups. Groping for air, gasping for a handhold, he turned around 5 times (fully eight rotations less than Joshua needed to fall Jericho) chugged a vial of dragon's blood and finally did the only sensible thing he's ever done in his entire life - notice the gorgeous woman looking at him from across the dancefloor.
And so it became, in that mighty stare, a new creation was born. The oceans receded. The planet cooled ever so slightly. Thor's hammer defied convention and accepted moonlight, however briefly. Energy levels exceed 9000. Lady Mary and Matthew started speaking in a volume above a hushed whisper. MUNI ran on time. And for once, if only for the evening, the unicorns ceased crying and the fog was cleared away.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
On Jan 8, 2012, Ben and Laura put on their hiking shoes and went to explore Muir Woods. Named after the great conservationist, John Muir, Muir Woods is a grove of magnificent redwood trees thousands of years old and hundreds of feet tall. It is here, within this ancient majesty, that Ben got down on one knee and asked Laura if she would marry him. She, of course, said yes.