If Music Be The Food Of Love, Part 2

(I’m a Red Cross volunteer. We offer basic first aid and serious emergency aid at local and national events. Tonight we’ve set up a small post at our town’s music festival. It’s not unusual for people to walk up to us and ask for help, such as directions, ear plugs, or to borrow a piece of equipment like scissors and tape. A well-dressed, polite and friendly-looking guy walks up to me, holding a poster.)

Guy: “Excuse me, do you have a big marker or something similar? And could I just sit at your table with it for a minute, please?”

Me: “Maybe. What’s it for?”

Guy: “I just wanted to write something on the back of this poster to hold it up for the singer to read it, but I don’t have anything to write with and the tables are all full.”

Me: “Hmm, okay then. We don’t have markers, but here’s a pen. You can take that chair and do your thing at the table.”

Guy: “Thanks very much!”

Me: “Sure.”

(I read what he’s drawing: the sign says in big letters “It’s my girlfriend’s birthday, could you please say Happy Birthday Nina?”.)

Me: “Ah, so that’s what it’s about. Well, good luck, and I hope the singer obliges!”

Guy: “Thanks, I sure do too!”

(He goes back into the crowd, hides the poster from his girlfriend, and acts like nothing has happened for a while.)

Me: *to my colleague* “Shall we keep an eye on how that goes? It’d be awesome if the singer actually did it!”

Colleague: “Yeah, it would. Good thing they’re right in front of us.”

(We see him walk around the stage a few times, but can’t really see what happens due to the crowd. After about an hour and just before the band’s last song, he goes to the toilets. I subtly walk into his path when he comes back out.)

Me: “Hey, don’t forget your little surprise! We’re all rooting for you!”

Guy: “Thanks, but the singer doesn’t want to do it.”

Me: “Ah, what a bummer.”

(My colleague and I conclude that our little distraction for that evening has hit a dead end and forget about it. When the next band starts setting up, he suddenly comes back up to me, beaming.)

Guy: “He did it! He just waited until the end of his performance!”

Me: “Really?! Darn, we didn’t hear it!”

Guy: “She loved it! You should’ve seen her face and how she almost tackle-hugged me!”

Me: “Awesome, I’m glad it turned out like that! Wish I could do those things sometimes, but that’d require me having a girlfriend of course.”

Guy: “Yeah, thanks, and too bad about that. But speaking of which, I better get back to her. She didn’t want to let me go anymore!”

Me: “Best not keep her waiting then!”

(A few minutes later…)

Me: *to colleague* “Not Always Romantic?”

Colleague: “Yup!”