The first of our introductions should be started with how I met the Imfamous and Wily Lord Stephen.

When I was a young art student in my 20’s, hungry, broke & with a very long and expensive list of supplies, I was faced with the dilemma many of my peers were also facing — either sell photos of our feet online or get a part time job to work during the few free hours we had between sleep and 3 hour long labs & lectures to pay for our paint, cheap beer and pizza. (Kidding! … Mostly.)

I went with the part time route, despite already working as a TA, and found myself filling the important role of Quirky Pink Haired Queer Art Student on a team of baristas in a financial District Starbucks.

An old friend from high school had gotten me the job and was walking me around introducing me to everyone when we got to one of the supervisors. Standing behind the hand off counter was a young ginger man with one the surliest expressions I’ve ever seen.

“That’s Steve,” beamed my friend Topher, “He’s basically our dad.”

“You don’t want to meet me,” he growled.

As he swaggered away I felt the need to stand a little straighter, not sure how someone could seem so much taller than me at only about 5’8, or could look so close to me in age but have an immediate air of authority.

What I didn’t know at the time was this strange supervisor was quickly about to become one of my best friends, heroes and main travelling buddies.

Steve was about 22 when I met him. He grew up in Texas, the youngest and most fearless of 4 brothers, drank his whiskey straight and diligently took care of his elderly beagle-coyote mix, Bosco, that he found half dying in the desert as a pup and had nursed back to health. One day his brother in Boston told Steve that he should just pack up his belongings and move up to Boston too, because why not, so Steve thought, hey, sure, why not and did exactly that, which is how him & I ended up crossing paths.

During my second week of work one of the other girls, Kristi, leaned over while we were cleaning the condiment bar together, and whispered, “Did you hear? Steve knocked someone out last weekend.”

“I’m sorry what?! He just punched someone –,” I replied with shock and some horror, looking over at Steve, politely taking the order of our white collared customers. Most of whom most would look him and just say, “What a handsome clean shaven unassuming young man, those are awfully sharp glasses he is wearing.”

“No! No! Well, sort of no. Someone came up to him at a train stop and said hey let me have one of the beers and Steve said no. Then the guy pushed him and tried to grab it anyway, so Steve just knocked him out cold in one hit and walked away.” She told me, just a little breathlessly, because we all knew, even outside of work, despite being a little unhinged and unpredictable, Steve was a little bit like the leader of our rag tag band of barista misfits, ready to defend us and lead us to adventure.

This is why when Steve texted me about a week after that saying, “I was serious this morning, when the hell are we going kayaking.” Instead of asking him what on earth he was talking about, and when did I agree to go kayaking, I simply replied that he better make sure to set an alarm for 10am because I would be ready and waiting by the Charles River the next day.

Presently, Steve, has traded his barista apron for a chef’s and graces the kitchens of Providence with his colorful language and unchallenged culinary passion, he’s acquired the title of Scottish lord, and still occasionally leads me on adventures with his signature mischievous grin and black rimmed glasses. His faithful coyote companion, Bosco, has left us for more heavenly adventures, but not until the glorious age of 22.

Steve is the sort of friend who might lead you on an adventure where you accidentally encounter a black bear that tries to eat you, but Steve would also probably try to fight it to protect you and maybe serve it up for dinner after.

And that is the story of how I met Lord Stephen, as well as the beginning of many other stories that we will get to later.