Randall Scott and Redheaded Bombshell hatch a plan on Boulder's Pearl Street

A steady succession of snowflakes veiled, ever so slightly, the tired orange hews of the ancient streetlights that methodically line Boulder’s Pearl Street, illuminating the night with a feeling of insulated warmth and concealing the ground’s adulterations with a growing blanket of untrodden snow. The bosses and I sat in silence at our table, hypnotized by winter’s intrigue, but grateful for the large pane of glass that separated us from the elements and trapped the swirling heat being pushed through the clunky vents that intrusively hung from the ceiling. An occasional passerby could be spotted scurrying with conviction to destinations unknown, leaving ephemeral footprints for winter to paint with its pallid brush, perpetually restoring virginity to the landscape.

“Tuna with lemon, Calamari a gratin, Ono with wasabi, and coffee,” as the waiter carefully placed our meals in front of us I wondered how an old fisherman from New Hampshire got talked into eating seafood in Colorado’s interior. It was an informal business meeting - me, the bosses, and a redheaded bombshell were discussing how to increase publicity. She didn’t have an MBA, or even a business degree, but her fair skin, tumbling amber locks, and sensually voluptuous silhouette would prove to dominate the table. With her white cotton shirt draped across her chest and the night snow floating in the window behind her, she looked like an angel.

(The Bosses)

“Perhaps we should reevaluate our advertising budget, we could buy a blimp with our logo on it and fly it around Boulder.” This was boss #1’s outside-the-box suggestion. Boss # 2 sipped his tea with a grimace, offering, “if we’re going to pull a stunt like that, we should just buy a bullhorn and have Phillip drive around town announcing our sales.” I thought both ideas to be formidable, but we were looking for the big one, the thing that would get us nationwide attention and vault our small, hard working business into the fortune 500. That’s when she said it, “Jellyfish are taking over the ocean.”
“What do you mean,” I asked, pushing my untouched plate of freeze dried tuna to the middle of the table?
“Global warming silly. The jellyfish like the warmer water and are taking over the ocean,” She exclaimed innocently tucking her hair behind her ear.
She didn’t know it, but her naïve pontification had shown us what needed to be done. We could see the headlines in our minds, “Randall Scott Cycle Company Slows Global Warming”. We have always been environmentally conscious, specifically choosing a green-built energy efficient building, organic cotton apparel, and our logo’s green, so this seemed like the next logical step. Smiles spread like sunlight over the bosses’ faces, and the gerbils were running full tilt on their wheels.
“Do you know how many bikes we’d sell if we slowed Global Warming,” said boss #1 with dollar signs in his eyes.
“A lot, a 2$%#$ lot,” chortled a giddy boss #2 trying to control his laughter.

(Alex Waterman, Redhead angel, business consultant sometimes single)

Unwittingly giving birth to the plan of the century, the angel in the corner seemed to radiate purity, oblivious to what she had done, but happy just to help. Wrapping herself in her scarf, she winked as she bid adieu, “You boys have a long night ahead of you, I’ll leave you to your work.” Ahh, perhaps this sneaky fawn knew too well the pot she stirred, and as she calmly vanished into the night, out of the street’s light, we ordered two pitchers of coffee and laid the groundwork for a plan that would save the world and sell bikes. The plan you ask……….that was the easy part.

TO BE CONTINUED………