Dave. His name is Dave.
I forgot about Dave. We met last summer when we were both working the Escape From Alcatraz triathlon pulling the very early, very cold and very foggy shift at the Legion of Honor. He was a motorcycle police officer and I was behind a video camera. He rumbled past me on his drive-bys, occasionally stopping to chat. Before the event started he asked me if I wanted a coffee. Perhaps my shivering was a telltale sign. He left and came back shortly with a cappuccino and a scone. At that moment it was a warm reminder of our humanity but time passes and the memory faded and was lost.
Until this day. This time we were both working the Kaiser Half Marathon. I was flagging down an approaching motorcycle officer to ask a question and recognized him immediately when he stopped.
"Remember me? Escape From Alcatraz? You got me a coffee. I'm Laura."
I gave him an enthusiastic hug. It was a spontaneous gesture, done without considering the wisdom of hugging an armed on-duty police officer. He looked a bit shocked. I'm sure he wasn't expecting to have
this strange woman throwing herself at him. Then he recognized me, too.