How did you meet your partner?

I was a music major in college; I started out college as an English major but I didn't like the people it put me around, and I tested the water with business stuff and didn't have much better luck; I like the people OK, actually - lots of unfocused souls like myself  - but really couldn't get into the classes. (All of which probably said more about me than about the other people or the classes.) The music classes I took put me around people I did like to be around, there was no master plan or anything. My wife, Anette, was doing something similar, she'd planned on going into the travel industry and figured she'd take a year in the U.S. and study music with a teacher she'd met who had been very encouraging. Her year turned into a whole college career, and later, a marriage and family. (With me.)

We'd definitely been in the same room at the same time more than once, but we'd never really talked, maybe something in passing, but nothing that either of us remember. One class we shared was the Jazz Ensemble that met in the afternoon 3 days a week. Basically a big band. I played piano on one side of the room and she sat in the trumpet section almost as far away as could be. 

The Jazz Ensemble accepted an invitation to play at the state prison. Everyone carpooled down there and met outside, and when we went in together. At the security screening, they took everything from us that wasn't directly related to the gig, it was for our own safety and while it kept things simple, we weren't ecstatic about it. They checked shoes, inspected cases, everything, and they insisted on holding onto our coats if they were leather or long. Anette and I both had long, leather coats, and we ended up having our first conversation as a bitch-fest about having to leave our coats behind. It was probably not a terrible idea to leave them, though, and where would they be safer than behind the security desk at a state prison? The prison itself was horrible and oppressive, and from the time we all set foot in there, we counted the seconds until we could be out, but the inmates themselves were gracious and appreciative, so the precautions were thankfully theoretical. Probably better safe than sorry.

It was not the first "real" conversation we had, that came later, but the brief conversation under odd circumstances set the groundwork for future conversations when we happened to run into each other, which we did. "Hey, it's that foreign chick that I complained to at the State Pen. I guess since we've already spoken, it will be OK to speak again." It's fun to tell people we met in prison, even if it's an oversimplification.