Summer Smitten

Back in 1995, the Seattle Mariners baseball team became, for the first time ever, the American League West Champions. A feat that hadn’t been accomplished since they were established in the late 70s. What was particularly special about that year was that the league had put together what would later be known as the dream team. It consisted of the best names known to the sport. It included fast-pitching Randy Johnson, catcher Dan Wilson, heavy hitters like Edgar Martinez, Jay Buhner, and the legendary Ken Griffey Junior. They were unstoppable. Well, that was until they made it to the playoffs.

It was as though there was some invisible wall that the team hit every time they made it to the postseason that prevented them from advancing any further ahead. Even after their 97’ and 01’ division titles, they simply couldn’t make it any further, no matter how hard they tried. Even after the 2000 wildcard draw, when they were given a free chance, they blew it.

Yes, the world series seemed a world away for the Seattle Mariners, but maybe it was never about winning. Perhaps baseball just meant a little more than the number of wins that the team had. Perhaps the Mariners marked something bigger. Something that was soon to happen in Seattle. Something that every resident and visitor alike couldn’t agree with more, as being the best thing to ever happen to the city.

The summer.

Yes, after months of overcast, drizzle, and loneliness, baseball brought in the spring, which in turn brought in the summer. It was the best time and place to be alive. Because you see, every summer in Seattle was the best summer in Seattle, and every summer in Seattle that followed, was always a better one than the last.

Autumn dipped her brush into the yellow acrylic paint splotch, brought it up to my left breast, and drew a circle around my nipple. She then dipped the brush again, and did the same to my other one. I stood up and took a long and admiring look in the mirror. Then taking my own paint brush, I applied a similar design on Autumn, but instead of yellow, I used purple.

For the next hour or so we painted each other's near-nude bodies in a swooshes-and-swirls design, using only the brightest and eye-popping of colors. From the top of our heads to the bottom of our feet, we were covered in oranges, bright reds, yellows, lime greens, hot pink, turquoise, purple, and all the others in between. When we finally finished, our bodies were covered in the most colorful symbols our imagination could muster, as we readied ourselves for Seattle’s one and only annual Fremont Summer Solstice Parade.

We didn’t have a place in the show to be honest. I mean we weren’t as notorious as say, the samba dancers or the solstice cyclists, but we played our part. Our plan was to casually sneak in between the non-motorized floats, hold hands, and nonchalantly wave to the passing crowds. It was going to be both exhilarating and liberating all at the same time.

We wore bright neon speedos that were nearly as loud as the paint that we were covered with. Mine were bright orange, hers, bright yellow. Slipping on our flats, we floated out of Autumn’s abode into the Fremont neighborhood, and to a surprisingly warm and sunny June afternoon. The moment we stepped foot outside, the sidewalks were already crowded with parade goers. People from all walks of life, grouped together in both likeness and differentiability, walked towards thirty-sixth street to claim the best sidewalk spot.

The best seats at any show are on the stage, is the way I saw it. So I grabbed Autumn by the hand, and we raced down to Third and Leary where the starting line of the parade began. We couldn’t believe it when we approached the procession of people standing by, eager to take their part, as the line stretched down the road as far as the eyes could see. Jugglers, clowns, dancers, stilt walkers, and every other parade participant big and small, gathered around the large hand-crafted floats, and patiently bounced in place as they waited for their turn.

We walked by the nude cyclists standing over their bikes and decided that we would fit right in with them. Just like them, our bodies were also covered head to toe in paint. The only differences were one, we didn’t own bicycles, and two, we had speedos on. The nude cyclists were, well, nude.

Women’s painted tits brought a wealth of freelance photographers to the scene, but so did the dude’s, just as colorful, shlongs. I didn’t mind the pictures, especially if they were working for a news outlet like the stranger. I know I could trust these people to take a decent picture, and if we were lucky, maybe we would even be featured in the paper or online somewhere. What really bothered me was the influx of these tech bros that showed up, who would also be taking a gargantuan amount of photos, but for reasons that only left me feeling less free, and a bit uncomfortable.

My heart bounced, as a sudden buzz of energy surrounded us, instigated by the sound of the brass band that began to play several rows in front of us. I watched ahead as the cyclists sprung up, mounted their bikes, nonchalantly hanging their willies to the side, if they had one, and started to ride forward. I could feel the electricity in the air. So much so, that I could swear the hair on my head was trying to stand.

I grabbed Autumn by the hand again, looked over at her with a big smile, and a “let’s do this” twinkle in my eye, as we took our first steps forward with the procession. As we walked, the crowds along the sidewalk began to grow in both size and intensity. Seasoned Seattleites clapped their hands, and whoo-hooed, with their children sitting atop their shoulders. We gestured back to the crowd with our well-practiced Miss America waves. Yes, it was all the best parts of being part of the human collective at its finest.

Until it wasn’t.

After a good twenty minutes of marching and princess waving, we came to an abrupt stop. It seemed as though there was some sort of traffic jam up ahead. I looked over at Autumn who was still greeting the crowds around her. She looked so majestic standing there with her gorgeous smile and perfect body. These thoughts quickly festered as I started to feel something happening inside of me that I had never felt before. I think I was beginning to have feelings for Autumn. Maybe I’ve always had feelings for her actually. Maybe I had just been suppressing them to give room to all my other unlived fantasies that I had boiling up inside of me.

Well if there was any time to test that theory, it had to be now. I mean, I’ve always felt like I had always been a rather impulsive person anyway, so why not, what’s the harm, huh? So I gave her a light squeeze of the hand to grab her attention, as she immediately turned her head from the crowd to face me. I then reached my hand up to her face, gently brushed her hair behind her ear, and leaned in.

I wish I could say that the feelings were mutual. That this whole time she felt the same way that I felt about her. I wish I could say that when our lips met, that the stars aligned and that everything in the universe finally came together. Yes, I wish I could say all that.

Instead, the moment that I leaned in, she leaned back, pulling her chin down into her sternum, and making a “you’ve got to be kidding me face.” And of course I didn’t catch her obvious cue, as all my passion and energy had been so concentrated into that kiss, that my eyes remained clothes. So there I was, naked, lips pursed, and friend-zoned for all the world to see.

It was at this exact moment that my worst enemies, the tech bros, came just in time to embarrass me a little more than I already was. Holding up their camera phones I heard them laughing and snapping. With their arms around their buddies shoulders they took pictures and smirked their cocky shithead smiles, trying to get a quality picture of our naked bodies to post on the internet, or jerk off to in their free time. Which, by the looks of it, they had way too much to begin with.

If Autumn felt the same way about anything, it was her distaste for these types. Completely ignoring my attempted kiss from moments before, she turned over towards the tech bros, stuck her tongue out and pushed her boobs together, before lifting up both her middle fingers. Like they had been caught red-handed, they quickly slipped through the crowd and disappeared.

We walked the rest of the parade in silence, feeling like I had betrayed her the whole time. When we finally got back to her place, I put my clothes back on over the dried up paint. We sat for a minute, before I finally got up and decided to leave. Then right when I was about to head out the door, she grabbed me by the hand, and stopped me. The whole world fell silent as she placed both her arms around my lower back, pulled me in, and kissed me, long and hard.

That was the last time I ever saw my friend Autumn. I tried reaching out to her after that day to make plans, but she never responded. Women are so weird and confusing, and I wish I hadn’t done what I had done. Oh well. In the famous words of my favorite woman crush, Alanis Morissette, “You live, you learn.”