I was at the start of a cycle race, in charge of giving out free goody bags to cyclists and VIPs. You’d think I would have been incredibly popular but no, the front of my stall was deserted. Tumbleweed blew across the dusty ground before me, as riders prepared for the race and my lovingly prepared goody bags remained ignored.
I was sad.
What made matters worse was that a large group of people, including my so-called friends, were laughing and pointing from the garden of a nearby cafe. Maybe I deserved that. Perhaps I had been bragging about how many cyclists I would meet.
All of a sudden, there he was. A vision in a red, white and blue cycling jersey, walking towards me. Smiling - nay, veritably beaming! A golden halo of sunlight virtually surrounded my hero. Somehow, he even managed to avoid that awkward ‘cleated shoe walk’.
No words were uttered, but I instinctively knew exactly what this adonis wanted from me. My hands were a-quiver as I bent over to acquiesce to his unspoken request, and with all the coolness I could muster, I gave him one. (A goody bag, you filthy lot!).
I handed over the bag courteously, avoiding the temptation to ‘accidently’ brush his hand with mine. Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds. His smile was unwavering. I could sense the open-mouthed stares and collectively held breath of my friends outside the cafe. He had been given his goodies (high quality ones too, not your average giveaway tat, even if I say so myself). Now what was he waiting for?
Again, I knew. I leaned to plant a modest kiss on the side of his freshly-cut, slightly spiky hair. A precious moment indeed.
After the bike race departed, it was back to harsh reality as I struggled to work out how to pack my large chunky table into my small suitcase. My flight was leaving in 2 hours and I still had a crowded metro and train journey ahead of me to get to the airport.
But at least if I missed my flight it would have been worth it. After all, I had just kissed Edvald Boasson Hagen…