as i watched team u.s.a. hold their ground tonight against portugal

it reminded me of where i was 20 years ago.

it was 1994

and somehow

i talked my boss where i was an advertising intern during the day,

and my boss at the hotel where i worked as a cocktail waitress at night,

and my professors where i was taking classes at all hours,

and my ex-husband who i shared my daughter-time with,

into agreeing to work around my special schedule for a few weeks.

——

i applied to work at the 1994 fifa world cup here in detroit.

4 matches would be played on my turf.

i told fifa i would love to do it

before i had negotiated any time off

but

i knew it would be a once in a  lifetime extraordinary experience

that i would find a way to do it

and then it became a reality.

—-

my job was to work in press operations in the media center.

helping the press with credentials, schedules, seats. access and information.

we were taught about the nuances of soccer

the role of the press

how to deal with the passionate fans

and the customs and languages of the countries participating

learning helpful things like:

‘if a russian offers you a shot of vodka, it’s an insult to say no, so you’ll have to find a diplomatic way to do so.’

i met so many enthusiastic fans along the way

and also

interesting press from all around the world.

—-

on my first day,

a photojournalist

based in hong kong

working for the french press

of dutch and italian descent

walked in.

he was smiling

as i gave him his credentials,

answered his questions

and told him to enjoy the games.

later that night

i left the media center

and turned back into

a cocktail waitress.

as i approached a table

a man turned around

i saw it was the journalist i had met earlier in the day.

we were surprised to see each other again

he told me some of the press corps were staying at my hotel.

i told him i worked there on some nights.

very, very small world.

we parted ways when his group left for the night.

each day at the world cup was a new adventure

i was able to see the matches

and enjoy the frenzied air of competition and excitement.

and many times

out of 78,000 people

the journo and i kept crossing paths

in unlikely places.

—

between his schedule and mine

and ever changing locations

and job commitments

and no cell phones

and no computer

we kept trying to set up a time and place

to meet away from the stadium

when neither of us was working

to have a real conversation.

finally

it was his last night here

and the final match in detroit was being played.

i was finished in the media tent for the day

we planned to meet at a local bar

after he filed his report.

i went to the bar

and found the brazilian fans there celebrating

it was total madness and fun and frolic

and then

the police came

and shut down the bar

for the first time

in history.

the brazilians’ exuberant and intense enthusiasm

had somehow overflowed

to the outside

they were dancing

a samba line

down woodward avenue

a major thoroughfare in the detroit area.

the bar was done for the night

and the crowd dispersed.

we were never able to find each other that night

we had no backup plan

for a place to meet

we went our separate ways

armed with addresses

and the beginning of a friendship.

i went back to my jobs/school/life

he continued on with his assignments

and flew back to hong kong.

—

we began to write letters

and we have been pen pals for 20 years now (almost 30 now)

we send hand-written letters

and postcards

back and forth from all over the world

we’ve gone through life together on paper

relationships, family, jobs, moving, school, vacations

and stayed friends

who never dated each other

maybe one day

we’ll find ourselves in the same country once more

at the same time.

and we can continue our conversation.

There is no distance too far between friends, for friendship gives wings to the heart.

– author unknown