On November 17 some number of years ago, Wetzel history was made, or you might say began.
Leading up to this date I was excited that a friend was coming to town to visit my roommate and I. We were making plans, but Aaron was getting nervous. “You’re coming to the concert, aren’t you?” He was in a band and had a big show that night, playing a couple hours away with a famous real more well-known band. “You have to come to the show!”
I started getting suspicious. I told my roommate FJ I thought Aaron might be plotting something. “GWEN!”–she was the only one who could call me this–“Holy CRAP, Gwen!”
The next day something happened with Aaron’s car. He needed new tires, I think, and it cost a bundle. The only bundle he had, I was sure. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” I told my roomie. “His car keeps having problems–there’s no way he has a ring.”
The 17th arrived and we headed north for the show, in his newly re-tired blue Dodge Charger held together by Jesus bumper stickers. In a blizzard. Probably a foot of snow in Traverse City by the time we got there. Our friends from the other band arrived really late because it was even worse when they left after us.
Then Aaron locked his keys in the car. And his backpack. He seemed really concerned that he get his backpack out before their set. Fortunately, I am no Sherlock Holmes…
Finally his band went on. They were hyped. The crowd, such as it was, was into it. I was standing toward the front on the side, where the band guys’ girls hang to look cool. After a few songs Aaron had something to say–even back in the day he was the preachaman. Something about . . . priorities, maybe? I can’t remember, until this part:
“I have to say something to my girlfriend, Wendy. Where is she? Can you come up here? I have to apologize to her because I told her I was saving to buy her a ring, and then I went and bought this [Steve Taylor] CD. So I want to give it back to her. Wendy, this is for you.”
“Open it!” someone said. So I did.
“Wendy, will you marry me?” he said from one knee.
Someone stuck the microphone in my face. “Yes, of course!”
When the Famous Real Band guys arrived, he introduced them to his fiancee.
Then we had to spend the night up there (properly chaperoned, of course!) because of the snow before going home to mortify horrify enrage convince surprise my parents.
The rest is (our) history!
I’ll have to think of a prize–an empty CD case, maybe?–for these trivia questions*:
1. How long ago was this?
2. How old was I?
3. Super bonus extra credit: What semi-famous band was it?
*Spouses of me are not eligible to win.