Written by Dr. Varun Menon (Also, in typical future wife fashion, I have modified Varun’s story with corrections bolded and italicized):
It all started with a diabetes lecture… and giggles from a face in a short white coat (he wasn’t that funny, and the comment about the short white coat was unnecessary).
In my final year of medical school, I was out one fine morning in September 2019 at the free, student-run Shade Tree Clinic. Huddled around me were overeager first-year medical students, brimming as usual with too much excitement at the prospect of their first clinical duties. I was “pimping” (medical education slang for publicly posing questions to trainees for the purpose of testing and teaching information that ought to be known) these freshmen on diabetic complications, a subject about which it became clear quickly they knew little to nothing. I was met with blank faces in response to my questions, save one brave soul who ventured to give answers. While the guesses from this girl in a short white coat were primarily wrong, they were spoken with confidence, charm, and good humor, sprinkled with trademark giggles.
(PAUSE. The fact checker has determined that we cannot confirm or deny that I was “mostly wrong”, however, I can confirm that these answers were spoken with confidence. Okay, resume the story…)
Although senior medical students and first-years seldom interact, I kept running into this (cute) face. I continued to be amused by her enjoyment of confiding in me the latest developments in her relentless quest to break into the OR to assist in neurosurgery cases. One night during a party on Broadway after our annual Vanderbilt Medical School “College Cup” intramural competitions, she strode up to me brazenly to ask me to buy her a drink (a “lemon drop” was her choice, of all things). After paying the bill, I turned around and she was gone (gotta be quicker than that)… so began the game of “cat-and-mouse” that would characterize our relations over the next several months.
We began seeing each other more regularly in March 2020, right as the COVID-19 pandemic was beginning. Through many days spent together over meals cooked and debates argued, even as my impending departure from Nashville for Family Medicine residency and active duty at Fort Belvoir, Virginia, loomed, our bond developed into mutual dependence. On the night before my graduation in May, we decided to part ways with the belief we would never be together. But that separation lasted only one day before we both couldn’t resist being back together the following night, watching “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” to study our relationship disagreements.
Although it took consistent effort and the lobbying of her mother and best friend (now maid-of-honor) Katie Harris, Candace finally decided to call me her own that summer. And through our long-distance relationship between Nashville and Washington, D.C., with many Southwest flights, FaceTime calls, and memories from Niagara Falls to New York City to Anaheim to Greece in between, we have continued to grow independently and together (this is true... he has been very good to me). On September 9, 2022, three years and two days after the day we first met, I asked Candace for her hand in marriage at the point where the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers meet at Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, just down the road from where I grew up and with the intention of celebrating our union in Nashville with all of the people (who have apparently read through this long Varun propaganda piece) who made our life together possible.
Written by Both of Us (But almost entirely by Varun):
Our first major trip together was overseas to the marvelous land of Greece in August of 2021. The voyage saw us fly to Athens and then travel to the islands of Crete and Thira (Santorini). We enjoyed immersing ourselves in the culture, art, music, cuisine, history, and natural beauty of that storied country as well as meeting its warm and gracious people. However, our relaxing vacation did not go off without any hitches...
We had just finished four of the seven days comprising our trip and were in the Cretan port city of Heraklion after seeing the magnificent ancient ruins of Knossos. We were ready to take the ferry from Crete to the island of Santorini. On the morning of the scheduled ferry departure, we loaded up in the taxi and cruised the short lane down to the port. But when we arrived, no ships were to be seen. Our kind Grecian taxi driver remarked, "Are you sure the ferry is coming? I don't see him..."
Unfortunately, despite planning every detail near-perfectly hitherto, Varun had misread the time for the ferry departure by one hour. After a classic tantrum, he then searched frantically and to no avail to find an alternative ferry that day to Santorini. We would have to await the same ferry in the morning. We returned to the hotel with heads held in shame to tell the front desk staff that we would be checking in for another night.
The next morning, we returned to the docks and boarded our ferry without incident. We took our seats and watched other passengers from all over Greece and Europe board. We were sitting next to a group of three Greeks traveling together, two middle-aged men and a woman (hereafter referred to as the "Greek delegation"). One of them had lost their phone and were frantically searching the seats around us. Candace joined the search and found the phone, which prompted immense gratitude from our new friends. We were now ready to leave and enjoy the final destination of our trip: Santorini.
Impending departure announcements continued right until scheduled leave time. But that time came and went with no movement from the vessel. Then the time started to pass significantly: fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, sixty minutes, ninety minutes. Multilingual announcements in Greek, English, French, Spanish, and what seemed like every other European language started to come in increasingly less confident tones regarding our delayed departure. Groans began with these announcements, but in staggered waves as various groups of passengers heard the "bad news" in their own language. Throughout it all, the snack bar on board pressed out orders for coffee, other drinks, sandwiches, and snacks with impressive efficiency. At one point, the ferry company announced that we would all get a coupon for one free drink at the bar as a means of easing tensions among the passengers. We continued to wait, now all in line at the snack bar.
And then, finally, at least two hours after our scheduled leave time with passengers restless as ever, a Greek language announcement came with a response of outrage among the now-exasperated Greek passengers. Some began to stand and file out sheepishly while others stood up and started on tirades toward local crew members. And then we heard it in English: "Ladies and gentlemen, we regret to inform you that your trip is cancelled."
Cancelled. That was it. No other details. No explanation. We were in disbelief. We looked to our left and saw the two men in the Greek delegation start throwing a tantrum: they began yelling at the crew and their officers until their faces went red. The crew just stood there and listened with apology written all over their face, but with no explanation given. Meanwhile, the French group of young men and women in front of us seemed to find relative humor in the situation and began researching alternative modes of reaching Santorini. This effort included inquiring to a crew member whether they could charter a private boat to the island. We sat and listened to the mayhem around us, partly hoping the cancellation would be reversed (or at least explained) and partly looking for a potential way to join forces with the French to get to Santorini.
All through this controversy, the coffee bar continued to speedily work to rake in cash for the ferry company. Some were still trying to redeem their coupon for a free drink, to recover some semblance of value from this seemingly wasted day. As the crew started ushering passengers out the gangways, the Greek delegation ran out of people to scream at and then turned on the only representatives of the company still on the deck: the coffee shop staff. But unlike their docile crew comrades, the baristas dished it right back at the two Greek men and a brawl almost ensued. The crew then escorted all of us off the gangway and back onto land. We watched along with hundreds of passengers from the shore as the two Greek men were escorted off and then started arguing with the captain. We cheered them on.
We stood under the mid-August sun for over an hour, looking at flights on our phones and other alternatives. But as we had learned the hard way the day before, it would not be easy to get to Santorini from Heraklion without this ferry. And since this ferry was the first of the morning starting at the southernmost major island in Greece, this loss would affect all subsequent ferry legs of the day from all islands north of Santorini: the logistical ramifications of this loss were huge for the hundreds of passengers on this ship and the unknown countless others waiting at island ports throughout the Aegean Islands for the rest of the day.
As we stood aimlessly in a large, disorganized mass outside the ferry terminal awaiting some further direction or explanation, many passengers ended up leaving the port and giving up on their aspirations to get to Santorini or wherever else they were headed. We were about to abandon hope ourselves and return to the hotel a second straight day in travel failure to contemplate how exactly we would salvage the last segment of this vacation (the most expensive part of which had been invested in the Santorini bookings).
But then, we saw a man dressed in a wetsuit, flippers, and other scuba gear emerge from the water under the stern of the ship. And some commotion around him. And then shortly after, a glorious announcement to any of us still assembled: the ferry had been fixed by the scuba man (our hero) and we were back on line! Our friends in the Greek delegation were elated. We congratulated them and shook hands: the trip was saved. We all boarded again and finally departed for Crete, more than four hours after the scheduled departure time.
Through all the groans, tantrums, and agonies, we laughed more than we ever did both during and after this unprecedented incident—and this remains one of our most cherished memories together. Through this series of unforeseen events and during our treasured time in Greece, we grew closer together and helped cement our shared life. We cannot wait to get back to traveling the world together, and especially to Greece, which will always have a special place in our hearts.