Our Engagement. His Perspective.

Written by Shannon G. Taylor

It was the fall of 2011. Laura and Shannon started dating around Halloween. After just a few months, Shannon had decided Laura was “The One.” Trouble was, he had accepted a job in Orlando and would move there next summer. He told Laura this and, when she took it in stride, asked if she would come with him. When she agreed, he knew she would one day be his wife. Knowing nothing about marriage proposal etiquette or protocol, a few months later he contacted a friend from high school—recently married himself—whose family operates a jewelry store in Peoria, to ask about engagement rings and advice more generally.

Winter passed and spring arrived. As the move to Florida grew closer, they decided it a good idea to create a Chicago “Bucket List,” a list of must-do’s before leaving the Windy City. On it, for example, were trips to a Cubs game and the Art Institute, a show at Second City, and drinks at the Signature Room, a swanky restaurant located on the 95th floor of the John Hancock building. It was at the latter where, unbeknownst to Laura, Shannon planned to propose. Not wanting to reveal his intentions, he casually mentioned one night that they grab a drink there to check another item off their bucket list. Laura replied that they had both already been there (Shannon did the Hustle Up the Hancock in February) and that they should complete a different item on the list. So they went to Five Star Bar instead. The beers were flowing, the scene was thriving, alive. His plans, however, were not.

A few days later, one of Laura’s coworkers, after hearing of the bucket list, suggested they visit Navy Pier. “You have to ride the Ferris wheel – it’s a Chicago icon!” It wasn’t on the list, but Laura had never been there, so it was included and plans were made: she would take photos of the Chicago skyline from the Ferris wheel at sunset.

Meanwhile, Shannon received an email: The ring has been shipped from Peoria to Chicago. It is available for pick-up. So Shannon got up early the next day, left a note for Laura in case she woke (saying he went on a bike ride, which he never does, let alone at 8am!), and sped off to retrieve the ring as soon as the store opened (he beat the owner there by 20 minutes).

With ring in hand, Shannon recalled something his friend at the jewelry store had said weeks earlier: “Just so you know,” he warned, “as soon as you get it, that thing will burn a hole in your pocket.” Shannon laughed and, confident of his willpower, dismissed the comment as insignificant. He figured he would hold on to the ring for a week or so while he devised a new way to propose.

He was wrong.

As soon as he put the ring in his pocket, the mental weight of its influence weakened his resolve. He sensed the enormity of the moment. He would propose to Laura today.

When he returned to the apartment, ring bulging in his pocket, he heard his bride-to-be stirring in the kitchen. When she emerged in her pajamas, cup of coffee in hand, it was clear she had just woken. With bed-head and sleep still in her eyes, she was beautiful. He wanted to ask her then, right there, but resisted the urge. He wondered how he was going to keep this from her all day.

Prompted by another casual suggestion from Shannon, the couple had decided they would knock off a few more things from the bucket list. Laura had mentioned the conversation she had with her coworker, and the Ferris wheel ride was included on the day’s agenda.

“Perfect,” Shannon thought to himself.

They ate a late lunch at Pequod’s Pizza, then rode their bikes the four miles along Lake Michigan to Navy Pier. They parked the bikes and walked to Harry Caray’s, where they had a beer and waited for the sun to set. Shannon didn’t talk much the entire day. His mind was racing, his nerves were on edge: “What should I say? How should I say it? Our server just looked at my pocket—he knows I have an engagement ring. Oh my God, he’s going to ruin this! The ring’s not even insured yet!” For the next hour, he simply watched the crowd pass by and, when listening to Laura speak, offered his best (nervous) smile.

When the sun had begun to set, and Laura determined the light was just about right, they walked the short distance down the pier to the Ferris wheel. As the car ascended, she admired the view and snapped photos. At the ride’s peak, Shannon got down on one knee. Anticipating his question, Laura gasped. He couldn’t get the words out; he just knelt there, waiting for her to say yes. When she remained quiet, alternating her gaze from him to the ring, he realized he needed to say something. “Please marry me” was all he could muster. “Of course, yes!” she exclaimed. The cars on either side of them, realizing a proposal had just occurred, began to applaud. Naturally, Laura and Shannon had to buy the official Navy Pier photo documenting the occasion. It would be the last image of them as single individuals.

Love.