In three chapters.

One

Sheila is my big sister. Allen is her now husband, then boyfriend.  They had been dating a while and country line dancing was a big part of their life and relationship.  I pause here to share that Sheila’s embrace of all things Texas (after she moved there from California) alternates among perplexing, annoying, and embarrassing.  But we’ll leave that for another time.

They planned a trip to Las Vegas together to attend a national Line Dancing competition.  On the day of the trip, they arrived at the airport separately.  Allen said he needed to run an errand for his mother before he could leave, so it would be easiest if they didn’t try to ride together.

Allen got to the airport first.  Sheila met him at the gate.  They boarded the plane and took their seats.  Nothing unusual.  The plane took off on time, climbed to altitude, the seatbelt sign was turned off and almost immediately, a passenger, a total stranger walked up the aisle and said “Sheila, this is for you!” as he handed her a single red rose.  In rapid succession, ten more people from various parts of the plane delivered roses to Sheila.

Sheila was stunned to the point of being speechless.  Allen played innocent until rose number eleven was delivered.  At which moment he pulled out the hidden twelfth rose, handed it to Sheila and asked her to marry him.

Right on cue, the Captain came on the P.A. and asked, “Well, what did she say?”  Sheila yelled back, “I said Yes!”

The passengers gave them a big round of applause and congratulations.

Allen didn’t really run an errand for his mother.  He got to  the airport early to stage the event.  But his original plan to have one of the flight attendants deliver the bouquet to Sheila was a non-starter as he was told it was against the rules.  Improvising, Allen managed to enlist eleven fellow passengers in his revised scheme. Everyone played their part perfectly.  And as the flight attendant was aware, she filled in the Captain and prompted him once the question had been popped.

Two

A summer barbecue bash was a tradition at Sheila’s house long before she moved to Texas.  Friends and family came from all over to enjoy the day each year.  This particular year, my son Nick and I had flown in from LA.  At Sheila’s front door we were greeted by a friend of hers who gave us (and every other arriving guest) a numbered sticker.  We were told nothing other than to wear the sticker and await instructions.

There was nothing else out of the ordinary.  We mingled.  We caught up with people we hadn’t seen since last year.  People were noticing that some of the numbers on their stickers weren’t unique.  We started seeking out those who shared our numbers.  Finding them did nothing to solve the mystery of the significance of the numbers.  But soon things started to happen.  Sheila called on the “number ones” to go fetch and open the gift bags that had appeared on the table near the coleslaw. Inside each bag was a disposable camera (this was pre-digital).  The “ones” were instructed to start taking pictures of what would be happening next.  They were to use their own judgement and discretion.  Still no help in understanding what was going on.

One after another, Sheila called on her numbered guests to perform a task, sometimes alone such as the woman who was sent to the shower in the master bath to retrieve the helium balloons hiding within. And sometimes in teams, such as the group that was dispatched to the garage to deliver to the backyard and arrange in orderly rows, the white folding chairs they found there.  Son Nick’s number got him the job of escorting his grandmother, my Mom, to her seat.  Twelve numbers had been called.  The backyard was now filled with enough chairs, all facing the deck under the big oak tree, for everyone to have a seat.  There were flowers and balloons decorating each row.

And finally number 13 was introduced to us all as the pastor whose assigned task was to officiate the wedding of Sheila and Allen.   Best wedding ever!  And Allen loves to point out that they got engaged on a 727, and they got married on 7/27.  Coincidence?  Probably not.

Note:  Mom was quite upset that she, who was living with Sheila at the time, was as surprised as everyone else that the barbecue was also a wedding.

Three

This is more of a postscript than a chapter, but fast forward almost ten years.  I was writing magazine articles as a side job.  One job offer was to write a chapter for a book that was to be a collection of romantic and/or unusual engagement stories.  I submitted Sheila and Allen’s airplane engagement story.  It was accepted, became a chapter in the book, and I got a hardcopy just in time to gift it to Sheila and Allen on their tenth wedding anniversary.  I didn’t tell them there was a chapter about them in the book. I assumed Sheila would read the book, recognize their story and call to tell me what a wonderful brother I am.  But she thought it was such a cheesy gift, she stuck it in her nightstand where it stayed, unread for years.  I have no idea what was going on that she was so desperate for something to read that she pulled it out and made it all the way to her chapter, but finally she did and recognized their story and called to tell me what a wonderful brother I am.