a lovely love story.

Oh, Josh Harris. If you only knew.

On Dec. 31, 2006, I loaded up six boxes of my most important belongings and got on board a train headed to Chicago.

After spending forty hours clacking our way across the country, my family and I arrived in Union Station at 2:30 in the morning and caught a taxi cab to our hotel. I was about to start classes at Moody Bible Institute and had prepared myself for this new phase in my life by messaging a few people guys on MySpace that were already there, and also reading 'I Kissed Dating Goodbye'.

The first week was a whirlwind of figuring out where classes were, how to get the elevator in my dorm to work, and trying to conquer the fear of being mugged on the corner when I went out in search of a cup of coffee. I met one of the guys I had stalked messaged before I got there, and even took a picture of him sitting in the student dining room to send home to my mom (he was cute and I kind of had a "crush from afar"). Interestingly enough, I think that this was the first glance of my future husband (it's the first photographic evidence I had of him, at least) that I had.

*Spoiler alert: he was not the guy from MySpace. Haha.

One of the best parts of going to Moody was the ability to meet someone from around the world, and to also meet someone from Wisconsin. Everywhere I looked, there was someone different and something new to experience. I remember noticing this one Asian guy with cool hair (this was kind of a novelty at a Bible college with a dress code), and then realizing that he had a British accent which was weird at first but also kind of cool. He seemed to be pretty popular with the girls, since I always saw him in the company of one or two, and so I left it at that. I've never been one to voluntarily compete for attention, and Asians weren't really my thing, anyway.

----------------------

A time-honored tradition at Moody comes in the form of naming a building or landmark on campus after a former president. Joe Stowell got the coffee cart upstairs, which also happened to be that AsianBrit guy's place of employment. I remember ordering an iced mocha one evening during a study break, and he happened to be the only barista working that night. 

I smiled and placed my order.

He smiled back and said, "So, what's your name? I don't think I've met you yet."

"I'm Cami," I said, thinking it was odd that he had said yet. Did he think he knew everyone? "What's yours?"

"Daveo," he replied, pouring espresso into a cup.

"So, where are you from?" I asked, trying to get to the bottom of the accent confusion.

"England," he said, handing me my coffee.

And that was it. He seemed abrupt and snobbish, reinforcing the mental picture I had of stodgy old Brits looking down their noses at lowly Americans, and I rapidly decided that I would probably never talk to him again.

(to be continued.)