Dear pair of young men on Caltrain after the Giants game,
I just wanted to thank you. Not for splashing beer on me, because that wasn't my favorite part, but for the parts that came after.
It must have been fun for you and your 35 closest friends to celebrate your friend's 21st birthday at the baseball game. I'm surprised that you decided that the bunch of you were not drunk enough already, and continued the party on the train. I question your decision to drink more, but if you hadn't, I never would have met you, and Oh! What I would have missed.
Such a charming mix of utterly and completely pie-eyed drunkenness and chivalry! Like when you, No. 1, whacked your beer can down on the table with a mighty thump and it (surprise!) sprayed beery foam everywhere when you opened it. You, No. 2 noticed me squeegee-ing my arm down and made No. 1 apologize. I believe your exact words may have been, "Douchebag! You got BEER on her!" And No. 1, you were so stricken with guilt that the only way that you could think of to make it right again was to give me the rest of your beer. My polite protestations were falling on deaf ears, so finally Alex had to point out that I was pregnant, and not just trying to ruin your attempts at making amends.
If I thought you were sorry before, I was mistaken. I almost had to drag you up off the floor to stop the grovelling at my feet and self-flagellating. I'm not sure if you realized, but humans, even weensy ones who aren't finished gestating, can't actually absorb alcohol through the skin, so we're good. Your concern was touching, though. Once I managed to convince you that the baby and I were okay, one of you asked, "So, how far along are you? Like 3 months?" And then the other said, "I couldn't even tell." This, if you'll remember, was the part where I jumped across the the aisle and smothered you in kisses. (Note to self: in a few months, strike up conversations with massively pregnant women in the grocery store and ask them if they're in their second trimester yet. They might start tossing money and jewels.)
It was also pretty adorable when you started telling me about the people that you knew who were currently pregnant. It was hard to tell what you two were talking about, though, mostly because of the drunken incoherence and your apparent lack of experience with the whole pregnancy/birthing thing. I'm still curious about how your cousin who is five months along is one inch dilated. Besides the fact that dilation is measured in centimeters, you usually only talk about it while one is actively in labor.
Finally, I wanted to thank you for leaping to my defense when your friend tried to sit in the seat across from me. It was unoccupied, but it was awfully nice of you to shout at him that I was pregnant. It's true; I could at any moment have gone into labor, and what would happen THEN if someone was sitting near me? I'm certain we avoided catastrophe, though narrowly.
So goodbye! I'll always remember the awe-struck look you gave my belly as we left. At least I think it was my belly you were looking at... it was a little hard to tell, what with the head-wobbling and the eye-crossing.