[This post was begun early this morning, in a Word doc, and composed in bits and pieces during the day.]
Okay. It’s time for a little levity. Because you have to laugh, sometimes, or everything would be just too much, and why bother going on? I’m writing this for me. If you can’t understand the need to divide things up – some time for reflection, some time for mourning, some time to relax and have fun – well, then, I’m sorry. Sorry to offend, and sorry for you, because I think there’s a lot more to be gotten out of life if you can relax sometimes.
It feels weird to… well, to feel weird about posting about pleasant, every-day things. To feel like I need to post a disclaimer: “Yes, I had some fun this weekend, but it doesn’t mean I forgot about all the terrible things that are happening, or all the people who are suffering, and yes, I have made my donation to the Red Cross, so go away and leave me alone.” My, what a Grinch I am. Anyway. Moving forward.
Last week was RJ’s birthday. And aside from the fact that no one was feeling particularly festive, life does go on, and if you can’t celebrate about getting older, it’s just depressing. Anyway. I started plotting with his housemates about a week beforehand. C suggested that a great place to go would be Teatro Zinanni and it was indeed a fabulous idea; but it would have to wait for the weekend. Well, you can’t let the birthday go by without doing something, so we agreed we’d take him to dinner Wednesday night, and keep the plans for the weekend a secret.
Something you have to know about RJ to appreciate all this. He is haunted by an insatiable curiosity. He has a compulsive need to pick things apart, see how they tick. The worst possible torture you could devise for him is to be secretive and keep him in the dark – while letting him know that you're doing it. So naturally, this is one of his friends’ favorite games to play on him. Surprise RJ, blindfold him, toss him in the back of the car, and not tell him where he’s being taken. Drives him nuts. And he’s so much fun about it; constantly trying to guess where he is and where he’s going.
The Wednesday decoy dinner went off without a hitch. I got him to the house in good time, after all the necessary folks had arrived but not too long after, then we whipped on the blindfold, packed him in the car, taunting and teasing all the way, and out we went to dinner (at a really cool restaurant with a name I don’t remember). Ha ha, surprise, happy birthday! RJ is happy, dinner is great, we’re home at a decent weeknight hour. He was surprised, but there were small clues – a friend’s cheerful attitude at work that day, a car parked out where he could see it. He had no idea about my involvement, however, which made me feel rather smug.
And he thinks that’s it. The weekend comes. We play things low key; everybody’s emotionally exhausted from the events of the week, I’m physically exhausted as well from fighting my nasty cold. Ah, a weekend of much-needed rest. Or so it seems.
There were only 2 of the organizers around to effect the capture on Sunday, myself and one of RJ’s housemates, V (partly assisted by the lovely lady L). We played the whole thing pretty much off the cuff – the details were not well mapped. All we had was an approximate hour of attack, and a vague notion that my car was the most comfortable fit for the 4 of us. Of course the only thing I loathe more than driving is driving in the City. But I arranged matters so that my car was there for the taking.
A word to the unwary: do not, ever, mess with actors and surprises. V and I spent much of the weekend in the same house, with nary a significant look or flubbed line between us, despite the lack of a battle plan. When Van was asked to pick up items for lunch at the store while he was out, he “forgot” to get them. RJ hadn’t a clue. So, when the hour came, I was able to walk right up to him, in completely changed and much dressier clothes, carrying a blindfold – and I had it halfway around his eyes before he even began to suspect. (granted, the decoy dinner probably helped with this last bit, by lulling him into a false sense of security.)
Bwa ha ha. Van drove, and we taunted him all the way to San Francisco; me sitting in the back with the condemned, restraining RJ whenever he lunged forward to strangle his friends in the front seat. First he was indignant and disgruntled, like a wet cat, because he hadn’t suspected anything. Finally, he sat still, trying to use hearing and touch and smell to figure out where we were going.
Once we hit the city, V called the other co-conspirators (“The egg is in the frying pan. Breakfast will be served in about 20 minutes”), and we all met up at Pier 39. We had some time to kill, so we kicked around there for a while – RJ is blindfolded all this time, mind you – and then we went down to Teatro Zinanni. A few photos, and voila! off comes the blindfold. On RJ’s behalf, I will say, he was able to guess where he was before we took the blindfold off. He wasn’t sure he was right, but his best guess was correct.
The show was wonderful. Prohibitively expensive, under normal circumstances, but for a birthday surprise, it was perfect. The food was excellent, the music sizzled, the performers was fantastic, and the whole evening built to a very satisfying conclusion.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
3:42 PM |
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