I do

I had already seen the best ballpark in America. I had already had two of the best bowls of chili I had ever eaten. I had already learned, once and for all that it’s spelled with three N’s, 3 I’s, 2 C’s, and a little T and A. I had learned that there actually is something redeeming about Ohio, and I had put in the paperwork to adopt the Reds as my national league team. How could I not? The city rolled out the Reds carpet for me...Jay Bruce hit three home runs, and the team put on a fireworks display after the game, all because this was the day I decided to visit. This city knows how to welcome someone to town. On the outside of its stadium it says in red neon, "Rounding Third and Heading Home..." and I realized that as far as my trip went, that's exactly what I was doing.

I wasn't ready for it to be over. I had fallen in love with Cincinnati. Not for what it is, to be sure, but for what it has the potential to be. This city is full of prime undeveloped riverside real estate. They have done nothing with the waterfront there, and I don’t understand why. Even Detroit built a nature walk on its river. I can’t imagine why Cincinnati has done so little, except that it might want to conceal from Kentucky the fact that there is anything good going on on the other side of the bridges.

I had already fallen for it. It didn’t need to do anything more to get me to go home with it. And then it did.

The game was over and I was hoping to find somewhere to get more chili and pass a few hours before my 1:45 bus to Washington. I passed up a few bars that were a little too close to the stadium, and too full of people who looked as if they hadn’t watched the game, let alone stayed for the fireworks.

I walked around the area with which I had familiarized myself that afternoon. A basic downtown that has some surprises here and there, like an open field surrounded by Doric columns when you turn one corner, and a gravel lot when you turn another. Its most central public square has a sculpture fountain, with a pool at the bottom, and multiple spouting fishes. It is topped by Jesus blessing all the sculptures below him with steady showers of water falling from his outstretched hands. In Cincinnati, even that worked somehow.

I was happy to find that at that very square there was a live band playing, a beer truck and a few food vendors. All because this was the day I decided to visit. I wasn’t much in the mood for talking that night. I had had a double header the night before, and if that wasn’t a social damper, then the bearded bald drunk guy that approached me and told me “They’re all going to love you,” put me off the rest of the way. I got a beer and sat at the fountain, not listening to the band. I had tired of talking about my trip. I had tired of asking my question.

And then a couple sat down next to me, and the man asked me to take their picture. Of course I would, and after having to ask so many people so recently to take my picture in front of something, I took care to get it right. With and without flash, focused on them, or squeezing in Jesus.

“Holy Shit,” he said. “This is an amazing picture.” He was wearing a Ryne Sandberg jersey, and she didn’t want to be there. They were more or less a couple of douche bags. “Have you found your special person?” The guy asked me. I stumbled on that question. It was another thing I didn’t want to talk about. He told me that he had, and that it was here, and that here they were, and that how could the two people in that photograph not be meant to be together?

And then he got down on one knee, pulled out a ring box, and proposed to her in front of me, in front of Jesus and everyone. She said yes, and it was then that I thought I might be getting waved in. It was time to be rounding third and heading for home.