That Was Surprising

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Big News » Some drunk idiot plowed into Mason Dixon's car on Saturday. He's been in intensive care with a collapse lung, broken ribs, and oh yeah, doctors had to take out his spleen. This is why people should learn how to drive before getting a license to do so. For those of you not familiar with Tampa Bay area or 1980's radio, Mason Dixon is a very popular DJ.

Now, today's story...

This is a post I should have written weeks ago. In talking to Liz and Mandy, I realize there's disappointment about my lack of writing with regard to my 21st birthday party — a surprise party thrown for me by all of my best friends.

I guess there were a lot of reasons (read, excuses) why I didn't write here about it. First was that the week after my birthday I was very busy and didn't have the time to sit down and write. I know, lame.

Another might have been that writing a story where my core audience members were primary participants seems a little like overkill. There aren't a lot of people who I don't know that read my blog. At least they haven't made themselves known to me, anyway.

But this story is mostly for those people as everyone else should already know it.

About a week before my birthday, Cortney asked me if I was doing anything Saturday (the day before my birthday) and if not, to not make any new plans. Done. Now why? Well it seems she and Liz and Gardner want to take me out for dinner. Cool.

As the week continues, the story evolves. The restaurant is to be a secret. However, nobody wants to come by my house and pick me up. Surely you see the dilemma. I'm not sure I'm capable of driving myself to an undisclosed location. Well, they say, I won't have to. I just go to Gardner's, and he'll drive me to the restaurant. Mandy too. That's right, gotta pick her up now.

Don't misunderstand, I'm not complaining. Just curious about all the work I'm putting in for my own surprise birthday party. So Saturday comes around and I head off to pick up Mandy. And we're early. But from everything I'd been told, there were 8:00 reservations waiting for us. And it's typically rude for the guest of honor to show up late. Or so I would imagine.

We get to Gardner's apartment and knock on the door. No answer. Again. No answer. Again. Still nothing. So I call his cell wondering if maybe he meant for us to meet him downstairs. No answer there either. But I keep trying and I suppose at some point he left a voicemail on my cell suggesting that perhaps he is in a position where answering the door wouldn't be the best thing.

The message, transcribed in part: "Dude, I'm takin' a shit." Nice.

Well I don't know if it was a secret code worked out in advance or what, but at this point Mandy suggests that we go look at the pool. I'd been planning to move into Avalon so it seemed natural. But we stood out there for a quite a while and Mandy seemed unusually interested in a big pool she'd likely never see again. But I didn't really think twice about it.

Until when we went back upstairs and everybody shouted "Surprise!" at me and shot me up with various types of graffiti. I meant confetti. Everybody was there and nobody was dressed up. Oh yeah, except for me. Why? Because I thought I was going to a nice restaurant. I gotta say, though, their disinformation campaign worked just how they wanted it to.

And for another thing. Having a relaxed party at Gardner's place was so much better than any restaurant. Of course then there was the cake. With my fat little face plastered all over it. Bet they wouldn't have brought that to a fancy restaurant.

I guess it was on seeing the cake (and some posters strewn about the room) that I realized my mom had been in on this whole thing too. Dealing lots and lots of old photographs. None that were embarrassing, I guess (although some people might see them that way). It all happened right under my nose and I didn't even know it. But that's good though. I enjoyed the surprise.

We had pizza (which came late) and later cake (donning my face) and everyone tried to get me to drink something. But being that I still had to drive home, that wasn't gonna happen. Oh shut it.

Then I opened my gifts. And no offense to anybody else, but I think Liz gave me the coolest birthday present I've ever gotten. It was a copy of the first draft of the script for the pilot of Alias. That was surprising.

Storytime: There's more stuff to read in my fiction blog if you're interested. I've written 20 chapters. Don't you think you should at least read one?