By Nicolas Lunman, Class of ’27 — Correspondent

And there I stood, in front of the biggest and most expensive circle of all time.

As my family and I waited in the excruciatingly long line for a glorified ferris wheel, I began to look around to distract myself from the blistering, 32-degree heat of London. (Celsius, of course. For comparison, that’s about 90° Fahrenheit.) That’s when I saw her. Waiting for the London Eye a few people ahead of my family stood a girl who looked to be around my age with long, flowing black hair and smooth, coffee-colored skin. I found myself immediately smitten. Love at first sight is a rare thing to happen to me, so the fact that I even had a crush on this girl in the first place took me even more off guard. For the rest of the wait, I prayed that we would end up in the same capsule together so that maybe, just maybe, I could befriend her.

Ten minutes later, my prayers were answered. I was in the capsule with this beautiful girl. The next step was to strike up a conversation with her. I just had to wait for the right opportunity. A time when there was free space next to her and she wasn’t really talking to anybody else. I had thirty minutes to make this happen. Easy, right?

Five minutes in, and we had still barely left the ground. The wheel moved at a snail’s pace, constantly hesitating to get to the next point in its cycle. While normally this would make me quite impatient, it gave me plenty of time to get to know this girl, so I didn’t mind. I watched as the girl sat herself down on a bench in the middle of the room, with a person-shaped void next to her. Perfect. I began to march myself over, but something pulled me back. I couldn’t just sit down next to her. Was I crazy? If I sat down there immediately after her, she’d know I sat down specifically because I wanted to sit down next to her, and she’d figure out I liked her (chronic overthinker, ladies and gentlemen). I waited about thirty seconds before starting my long and arduous two-foot journey around to the other side of the bench. But before I made it to the other side, disaster struck. Somebody sat down next to her, filling the void and ruining any chance I had to talk to her until one of them got up.

Fifteen minutes in, and now our group closed in on the very top. Soon, we would be subjected to one of the very best views in all of London. But I didn’t have time for that. A spot on the bench had just opened up. I waited for slightly less time this time, to lessen the chance of somebody snatching up the spot again. After fifteen seconds, I tentatively sat down. Suddenly, my face became hotter than a summer day in London during a historic heat wave, and turned the color of a sunburn from said summer day. Had the AC stopped working? How are you? I greeted her in my head, My name’s Nicolas. Perfect. Now, I just needed to say that again, but out loud. I somehow went warmer and redder than I ever had before. After what felt like a century, I opened my mouth and began to speak. “How–”

“Hey, Nic! Come to the window, I want to get a picture.”

Of course you do. I couldn’t have cared less about getting a picture at a time like this, but I couldn’t just ignore my mom. Despite my disinterest, I left my seat and hurried over to try and get this picture over with as quick as possible. I looked straight into my mother’s phone and put on my best “I’m having a really fun time!” smile. As I did this, I watched as a man – presumably the girl’s father – walked over and started to say something to her. I was just close enough to hear my seat – and my opportunity – get snatched up with three short words.

“May I sit?”

Twenty-five minutes in and the ride had almost finished. At this point, I had given up on trying to get to know this girl. I just couldn’t seem to find the right opportunity. As I listened while my parents gushed about how beautiful the Thames was (I didn’t see the appeal at the time. Just a bunch of dirty water and samey-looking buildings, what else is new?), my brother walked up with a new friend he had made. As it turned out, he had been able to strike up a conversation with a random girl he had met on the ride while I hadn’t. How had this happened? What did he do? What secret magic did my brother possess that I did not? As he introduced her, I remained friendly on the outside, but on the inside, I felt cheated. Cheated not only by my brother, but by the ride itself.

But now, looking back on that photo my mother took, I see what she and my father meant when they gushed about the beauty of the Thames. The sunlight glimmered on the astoundingly beautiful river, and shone down on a jaw-dropping cityscape that stretched for miles – sorry, kilometers. And there I was, standing right beside it. But the person there wasn’t me. I wasn’t astounded by the shimmering water and kilometer-wide view. There was a smile on my face, but I wasn’t “smiling”. I was just standing there, impatiently waiting for the photoshoot to finish. I didn’t live in the moment, all because I had been so focused on trying to achieve something far more ambitious.

After that ride, I prayed for another opportunity to run into this girl in the two more weeks we had in London. And my prayers were answered.

The answer was no.