I'm Officially Engaged!

Well I did it. I’m officially engaged, which is a good thing, considering I’m getting married next Tuesday.

As with most of the plans in my life, yesterday’s big proposal plans fell apart. I’m engaged, but it wasn’t easy. Here’s what happened.

Wednesday morning, it’s freezing cold outside, overcast and grey, with a heavy wind blowing and even some light rain. I was dressed to the nines. I had on my best black leather dress shoes, black tux pants, a white starched shirt with red paisley tie. My Italian black leather suite coat type jacket completed the formal attire. Yes man, I looked like a million bucks as I headed out the door to catch the 10:15 train from Barrington to Downtown Chicago.

Just moments out the door I realized this was going to be a very cold long day. It’s too late to turn back; the train wouldn’t wait for me to change clothes. I had to keep going; it’s a 10 minute walk to the local station and I hadn’t a minute to loose. I pat myself down to make sure I have everything I need and begin the brisk walk to the station.

The old Chicago North Western METRA train would arrive right on-time. I had purchased my round trip tickets with the PayPal debit card inside the Barrington Station. It was my first test of the card, and I was pleased that the transaction went through, a good sign. I quickly climbed on the train and grabbed a single window seat upstairs.

The train car is almost empty. A mother sitting downstairs is talking to her young son about the museum that they are going to visit later. He seems more interested in looking out the green tinted window at the blurry landscape screaming by. I remember riding with my mom downtown to have lunch at Marshall Fields under the big Christmas tree.

I notice that the train always smells the same, like a cross between old newspaper and stale air. I like that weird smell, it reminds me of summer break in high school when I would take the same train downtown for my job at the Board of Trade. How can it smell the same after all these years? It even looks the same. I’m on my way.

The hour long train ride downtown seems to fly by. I must admit to being a little nervous carrying around a $10,000 loose diamond in my shirt pocket. I frequently take it out and unfolded the small white paper envelope that protects the stone. It’s odd to me that diamond dealers fold the diamonds up in paper the exact same way that cocaine dealers used to do it back in the 80’s and 90’s. I guess there both a little shadier than either would care to admit.

The stone looks great; the light bounces off it like crazy as it rolls around in the palm of my hand. I wonder what someone would think if they saw this dressed up guy in a black leather jacket hunched over looking at diamonds. I felt cool, like a big money gangster with a shady deal. All I needed was a chrome plated 9mm to complete the fantasy.

The train arrives in downtown Chicago. Its 11:25 and I’m going to need to hurry if I’m going to stay on schedule. I step off the train and begin the fast walk through the dark noisy terminal. Even though the train stops inside of a partially enclosed area, I could feel the cold wind ripping through the station. The station reeks of diesel fuel and cigarettes. It was going to be a very cold day. I began the long walk from the train station to Jewelers Row and my meeting with Michael the Asian jeweler who would be mounting Nanci’s stone in the new setting. I hope everything goes o.k. I’m nervous.

They call Chicago the Windy City, and for damn good reason, the wind feels like it could rip the skin right off of your face. My leather suit coat jacket keeps blowing open and I constantly put my hand over my shirt pocket to make sure that the little white piece of paper with the expensive stone is still in place. I hope I’m not being too obvious. Damn it’s cold. What a gloomy day for a proposal.

I arrived at Jewelers Row which is directly under the elevated train tracks, and quickly hunt down the correct address. I open the generic glass door and enter into a large store filled with many display cases and dozens of eager eyes hoping to catch my glance. Fresh meat.

This place is like a Chinese mini mall, with many jewelers renting a small area to display their wares all under the same roof. With a little apprehension I ask the well dressed Indian lady in the first booth for Michael. She points her dark boney finger down the isle and doesn’t say a word. She resembled the grim reaper with a jewelry fetish. Her extended fingernail was grotesquely long with some crazy swirling multi-colored design that I couldn’t make out. Several cheesy gold rings were still rattling against each other, held secure by the size of her large knuckle. I managed a polite smile, ducked under the finger and headed down the isle.

The isle is long and on my way I periodically look into the many display cases. Desperate little shop owners all try to get my attention and the hopeful sale. I’m reminded of the flea markets in Florida. All I need is a corn dog.

Michael’s booth is in the far back of the store on the left. He has a very small display case alongside of his large wooden work bench, a cash register, and plenty of tools and machines all along the back wall. It’s extremely dirty behind the counter with odds and ends lying all over the place. This booth has the look of a work shop that has been so busy that nobody has had time to clean it, ever.

Michael looks up from his wooden work bench that is surrounded by a plexiglass shield and introduces himself to me. He can’t weigh 90lbs, with short black hair, cheap grey dress slacks and a light blue short sleeve generic work shirt that looks like it was purchased off the sale rack at K-Mart. The palms of his hands are completely black and stained from his work. Out of habit I offer to shake his hand, he offers instead the cool knuckle pound. I think I’m nervous again.

Michael is quick to smile and remembers me from our phone conversation. He turns around and begins to frantically rummage through the many tiny manila envelopes lying between the metal working machines on the back wall. Michael is one of those people that move very quickly, always with a purpose, as if time is running out on his day and he has too much work still to do. I can’t help but feel that I might have made a mistake. Michael finds the correct envelope and empties the white gold ring into the palm of his dirty hand, proudly showing it to me for approval. All I can see is his dirty black hands.

I remove my white envelope containing the diamond from my shirt pocket and hand it to Michael. He quickly empties the stone into his blackened hand while using his other hand to set it in the mount for a quick look. He’s obviously impressed with the stone and comments on how nice it will look. Without blinking an eye, he quickly sits back down at his wooden work bench and begins to modify the ring to fit the stone.

It doesn’t take me long to realize that Michael knows exactly what he is doing. He works quickly, but very carefully, and shows great skill when it comes to his trade. After a ½ an hour of grinding, hammering, polishing and pulling, he tries the finished ring out next to the wedding band, to make sure it fits. Nanci had picked a “sleeve” type wedding band that the engagement ring will fit inside. It’s important that they fit correctly, and Michael makes several small adjustments in order to get it perfect.

I’m soon presented with the finished product, and it looks fantastic. It’s clear that I got a great deal, the ring is very impressive. Michael suggests that I examine the ring with the Jewelers Loop, a small magnifying glass that is held close the eye. After months of looking at dozens of diamonds I’ve become an expert with the loop and feel quit comfortable in its use. I know what to look for. I quickly put the device to my eye and closely examine Michael’s keen craftsmanship under the florescent light on his counter. He comments “I can see by how you use the Loop that you know what you are doing. Good, I can tell you will appreciate my work.” He’s correct, his work is flawless, and I’m impressed. The diamond looks huge in the setting; Nanci is going to love it.

My first impression of Michael was all wrong; he’s a true artist and businessman with great skill. He finished up the project by cleaning the ring in various vats of liquid then blowing it under high pressure air. I felt a little a paranoid watching the ring get banged and dipped, and then finally inserted under the high pressure air. Wouldn’t this blow the stone clear off? Are you supposed to be so ruff with jewelry? Man, it looks great.

I have no problem pulling the mighty PayPal debit card once again from my wallet to pay his more than reasonable fee. This same job would have cost me 3 times as much anywhere else, and I doubt they would have done as good of a job. With a quick signature and a hardy thank you, we do the cool knuckle pound once again and I’m on my way out of the store and into the dreary cold Chicago streets. It’s time to find a horse drawn carriage.

As I’m walking down the sidewalk I take a quick mental check. I still have enough left on the card for the roses, as well as, the horse drawn carriage ride. If I play my cards right, I should still have a tiny bit left for Nanci’s wedding present. It’s going to be close.

Having a finished engagement ring in my pocket felt empowering. I felt like a man on a mission. I seemed to be more important. I held my head very high. I walked very fast. A huge grin came across my face as though I knew something that nobody else knew. I couldn’t wait to give Nanci this ring; she’ll love it.

I had tried to call and reserve one of the beautiful carriages that roam the Chicago streets, but not a single one of the companies answered their phone. Their websites pointed me to various street locations where they could be found, so my goal was to walk to the locations and hopefully score a good one to take to Nanci’s work. It’s Wednesday, how hard could it be?

After 3 tries and still no carriage I finally asked a large black Chicago Police officer where I might find a horse drawn carriage. He said that the best place was on the other side of the river, about a mile away. My feet were already sore from walking so fast in my dress shoes. I was on a mission, I must press on.

I crossed the pungent green Chicago River and arrived at my destination. The officer was correct; there were plenty of horse drawn carriages in the area. The problem was that they were all taken.

For an hour I tried to score a free carriage without luck. Time was running out. It was already too late for a lunch date with Nanci, now I was just trying to get anything. Finally a beautiful white carriage stopped. It was perfect! I ran to the man dressed in some bazaar 1800’s outfit with a white top hat and tails. Unfortunately this ride was already booked, but he could call their other carriage and have me hooked up with a ride in 10 minutes. GREAT! Make it happen.

I’m excited. This is going to work out. I’ll call Nanci while I’m on my way in the carriage. Its’ going to be o.k. Man, am I good.

10 minutes later, here comes the carriage. O NO! A large black horse, driven by a man who looked like a chimney sweep, was pulling a large jet black wooden carriage. This thing looked a hearse from 1776. The carriage was faded and the paint was pealing off. Bring out your dead, bring out yer dead. The horse was old and bored with a large black feather plume towering from the top of his head like some goolish equestrian vegas showgirl. I stood there frozen. The horse looked at me with its large black eye as if to say, “Dude, don’t do it.”

I wanted Cinderella’s Carriage, not some vehicle that delivered plague victims to their final resting place.

Now what do I do?

A look at my watch and I realized my plans were falling apart fast. I need to be like a Marine, I need to improvise. A cab, I need a cab. I’ll take a cab to her work, and I’ll invite her to launch. I can still pull this off. It will still be surprise, just not very romantic. I’ll take her to a romantic lunch. It will be o.k. Wait, its’ way past lunch. Screw it, I’ll ask her anyways.

The cab ride takes a while and I realize that I have walked a very long way and wasted more time than I had planned. I had less than an hour to find Nanci, propose, and catch the train home in time to pick up the kids from daycare. I can do it. It will be o.k.

The cab drops me off outside of 311 S. Wacker. I had forgotten to call her; my brain is racing to fast. I have to think.

I call her on my cell phone. “Hi, where are you?” she says. She can hear the traffic in the background. She must know something is up. My brain is racing. I need to be slick.

“I’m waiting for you”

“at home?”

“naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” I said in some weird tone like a 5 year old on steroids.

She could tell something was wrong here. I could hear it in her voice. She knew something was up. I was acting weird. Why am I talking like this? I’m screwed.

“Where are you?”

“I’m downtown, wanna go for lunch?”

“What?, O, I can’t, I have to do a showing. Lunch was 2 hours ago. What are you doing downtown?”

I was busted. She knew I was downtown for some reason, most likely to propose. She had to show some property to a client and there was nothing I could do about it. My plans were falling apart fast. This was my last chance.

“Well, can’t you meet me for coffee or something?”

“Maybe I can after the showing. It will take me about a ½ an hour. Do you want to meet me at Starbucks?”

“Yeah, o.k. That works”.

So, I got my chance. I decided that since I had time to kill that I could run across the street to the Sears Tower and pick up a dozen roses. I might not have the carriage, but I can still make this happen.

With a dozen roses in hand, I sit just outside the Starbucks inside her office building. There are several black metal coffee tables outside that look out the huge glass windows and over a small stretch of lawn. I never felt so awkward in all my life. In my head I was running through all the ways that I could do this and still come across as romantic. Nothing was coming to mind. My foot was tapping at high speed on the tile floor. I kept looking to see if she was coming.

Nanci came walking around the corner. She was wearing a long winter coat, her blond hair was just a little windblown and I could see a huge smile on her face even though she was still a good distance away. I stood up and smiled.

I’m not a guy who runs out of things to say, but I was speechless. She approached and I gave her a hello kiss. What a great smile. I handed her the box of roses.

“What are you doing here?’ she said as she took the box of roses.

She knows. She has to know. I’m busted. What should I say? I sit back down and my brain races. Cover your tracks; you can still pull this off.

“The diamond arrived, so I came down to try and get a setting.”

“You look nice” she said, still smiling and admiring the beautiful roses.

I’ll play it cool.

“O, thanks. Well, you know. I’m trying to play the part with these dealers. How was your showing?”.

My face is flushing. I can feel the blood rushing to my face. She can tell, she has to be able to tell. I’m not doing very well. This is not very convincing. Should I propose here? Should I just drop down on my knee and do it? I think she answered me, but I have no idea what she said.

“Do you want to go sit downstairs by the waterfall?” I suggested.

This building has a beautiful waterfall that rises for several stories up in the middle of the large glass lobby. It’s really something to see, and the most romantic place that I could come up with to propose on such short notice.

We make our way down the escalator to the downstairs seating. Several employees are taking a break a few tables away. There is no way I can propose with them so close. I need to keep stalling. The sound of the water rushing down into the pool is very loud. The seating area has several tables and trees along with a small restaurant that is completely empty. Nanci and I sit facing each other. There is nothing in between us. I keep stalling; meanwhile my hand is fumbling in my pocket getting the engagement ring. I manage to slip it on to the tip of my little finger. This will make it easy when its’ time.

Nanci is excited to see me, and she’s buying the shopping for a ring story. I’m sure she can tell that something is wrong, I’m acting weird.

“Did you get a setting?” she asked

“Well, I’m looking hard, but you know how it is”

I’m not even thinking about what I’m saying. I’m feeling flush. In my head is a little director holding a clip board giving me the stretch signal.

The group of employees that were sitting near us has finished their break. They stand up and walk away. The place is empty. NOW! Do it now!

In a fluid movement I slide my butt of the metal seat and quickly down on to one knee. I’m already holding her hand. She turns bright red, almost panicked. Its’ too late to turn back now.

“Nanci Evron, I love you more than anything in this whole world. Will you marry me?”.

I produce the ring and with magician like accuracy remove it from my pinky and hold it with my index finger. It sparkles like crazy under the fluorescent lights. Wait, did she answer me? I’m still on my knees. What do I do now?

We start to kiss. We’re giggling like school kids. This is great! She’s very happy. Wow, her face is red. I’m sure mine is too.

“aren’t you going to put it on my finger?” she says with the sweetest smile.

I start to put the ring on her finger. It fits perfectly. Wow, the stone looks big.

“Don’t you have to say yes first?”

“I did say yes. Didn’t you hear me?”.

Truthfully, it’s all a blur. She said yes and we laughed and kissed as I told her about my whole day. I’m not sure about everything we said, my brain was mush. I know that I had a whole speech that I was going to say when I proposed, but when I opened my mouth, only the one short sentence came out. It was a good sentence though.

Nanci had to get back to work and I walked her upstairs to her escalator. I took a couple of pictures of us with my camera phone. She looked so happy and beautiful. I couldn’t help but feel that I was the luckiest man in the world.

What a great day! The best.

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