Part 3

I asked the Bartender to order me something off the menu and when raw sushi was placed in front of me that was warm to the touch I was skeptical. Even scrappy would not eat it and spit the tiny piece I had given him out. Hawaiian shirt bent down to pick it up thinking Scrappy had accidently let a piece fall to the floor. (Who are we kidding what dog accidently lets that happen). After trying to feed Scrappy the piece of fish again and then quickly coming to the realization that he was now holding half chewed warm raw sushi that a dog refused to eat; I stuck out my hand like a teacher with gum quickly discarding of the evidence. (And that I’ve been told is called a meet cute… or I guess in our case a fish cute…. see what I did there)

After chatting at the bar and trying to find anything remotely fun to do in this sleepy little town I convinced Hawaiian shirt to take me on a date to the brewery. Honestly thank God for Allen & Taylor who were also sitting at the bar that day and were not as oblivious as Hawaiian shirt or I guess at this point in the story Shawn. If not for them I think I would have gone back to my hotel room to a book and Shawn to his porch with a bag of peanuts. (I think some would say that constitutes first born name rights but I think Marisa already laid claim to them)

I dropped Scrappy off at the hotel, changed and headed to the brewery. Where did you know in Virginia they have “Southern States Only” Parking? I remember pulling my little Georgia plates right in and being so excited. Thinking I never get special parking… I’ve never been handicapped, nor pregnant, not a veteran or a police officer but I did at the time live in the deep south. I walked into the brewery to find Shawn waiting at a table with a huge smile on my face telling him about my special parking.

“I know y’all hate California but what did my beloved New England do” Not understanding at first what I was talking about until I gestured towards my car at which point Shawn started to laugh not just laugh but that deep belly laugh until you cry laugh. I mean I know I’m funny but I didn’t even catch the punch line of that one. Until I saw what he was pointing at across the parking lot. Turns out Virginia doesn't have special parking spaces for Southern States instead they have a chain of home improvement stores with the name you guessed it “Southern States.” To this day Shawn likes to tease me about that just how I tease him about how I let him win that ring toss game at the brewery that day.

Not wanting the night to be over we decided to head to one more bar. At which point my second favourite part of this story happens.

Part 4

I was waiting for Shawn outside at one of the tables staring at the sky when he returned with some waters. All of a sudden his demeanor completely changed. He bolted up right nice and straight, his eyes narrowed in, brows furrowed starring at me as if searching my face for answers. He said

“I know what you are, what do you want”

confused as to what he could possibly be talking about I answered with a simple

“What?”

“You’re a honey pot..”

“A what?”

I’ll save you the back and forth that follows.

Honey Pot:

(espionage) A spy (typically attractive and female) who uses sex to trap and blackmail a target.

Shawn’s government training came out in full force and now this time I was uncontrollably laughing. Eventually I convinced him that no I was not a spy which took slightly longer than it should have. However I have always thought the Canadian government missed out on a great opportunity with me. Having lived in three countries, being a former flight attendant and being able to speak three languages. Sometimes I think Shawn still wonders.