The reason that the 3×3 is such a big deal in speed cubing is that the 3×3 cube is the classic, iconic Rubik’s Cube that everyone remembers. They make cubes in lots of other sizes, but they’re mostly only used by people like Danny and Johan who cube competitively. The 3×3 cube is the one on people’s desks, their lab benches, their bedside tables.
That year, the World Championships were in Australia. Usually, the entire family would come to these events, but tickets to Australia were breathtakingly expensive, and Steve had to work, and my younger son Riley had baseball. So Steve and Riley stayed in Los Angeles, and for the first time, Danny and I traveled by ourselves to a Rubik’s Cube tournament overseas.
When we arrived in Sydney, there were a variety of social events set up for the cubers and their families to do outside of the championship themselves. The first was an ice cream social kickoff at Bondi Beach.
I always go with Danny to these events because they’re the best opportunity for him to socialize with people in real life. But because some people aren’t sure how to talk to Danny, they’ll approach me instead, and I help redirect them towards talking to him.
Of course, traveling alone with Danny can be distracting, and I knew I would forget something. As soon as we unpacked at the hotel, I realized I’d left my beach bag in the backseat of our car at LAX.
We were late and I was rushing, so I stopped into the boutique in the hotel lobby on our way out the door.
“Do you have any one-piece bathing suits?” I asked hurriedly.
“No, I’m sorry,” said the pretty blonde teen behind the counter. “They’re all bikinis.”
“Welcome to Australia,” I laughed.
“Pretty much,” the girl smiled.
“Do you have that the coral one in a size small?” I asked.
“No, but we have extra small,” she said. “Better for you anyway.”
“You think so?”
“Hell yeah,” the girl laughed, and I paid her for the suit.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at Bondi Beach, and I could see that the girl really wasn’t kidding: of the thousands of women milling about on the sand and in the surf, I saw a few topless women, but I didn’t see a single one-piece suit.
I walked over to the changing huts with Danny.
“Go get into your swimsuit, honey,” I said, pointing towards the men’s hut. “I’ll meet you right back here in a few minutes, okay?”
Danny nodded, and walked off with his own beach bag, which I had obviously remembered to pack.
As soon as I was inside the changing hut, though, I felt a moment of panic. The extra small suit the shopgirl had sold me was… extra small.
The bottoms fit well enough, and for the old me, extra small would’ve been just fine. But even after years of walking around with them, I still forget sometimes that I’m a 34D now (not a 32B).
I managed to get the clasp to close, but when I looked in the mirror, I saw myself practically spilling out of the top. Thankfully, you couldn’t see my nipples, which I figured would be enough given that I’d seen topless girls walking around out there.
But Steve would like this top, I thought. I felt so sorry that he wasn’t able to come with us to Australia. Maybe I should do something nice for him.