Surprise!

This weekend I am celebrating the 10^th anniversary of my 21^st birthday. So that means I should be drinking, right? Well, actually I didn't have my first drink until I was about 22, but maybe I can make up for it this time around. Or maybe I won't. Either way, what better place to party than Universal Orlando while it is in the midst of Mardi Gras! Buster’s gift to me is an overnight stay onsite at the Lowe’s Royal Pacific, an uber-nice and fancy hotel within a boat ride’s distance from Universal Studios, Islands of Adventure, and the City Walk. For those of you not fortunate enough to live within 3 hours drive of Orlando, FL, I would consider this the Mecca of Central Florida fun. Unless you are under the age of 12, in which case Disney World is slightly further south. As I eagerly await a weekend of roller coasters, butterbeer in the world of Harry Potter, and dancing down the City Walk, I am reminded of last year’s birthday celebration.

The great thing about being in your thirties is that you are old enough to have interesting stories to tell, experienced enough to have some wisdom to guide you, and still young enough to have fun. At the age of 29, I had experienced only a couple of official birthday parties. My sixth birthday was spent with my friends at McDonalds, playing in the pool of plastic balls, sliding down the tiny, indoor slides, and wearing my special paper birthday hat. I recall the disappointment of receiving a Barbie Doll from a well-intentioned playmate, who was not aware I preferred playing in the dirt to wasting time with such a lame girly toy. However, it was a fun and memorable experience overall. My next party was held in our home to mark my twelfth birthday and involved a Chip N’ Dale Rescue Rangers birthday cake (with collectible decorative toys), a pin the tail on the donkey game, and a brief but exciting visit from Buster and his mom. I had all of my school friends and most of the neighborhood over to enjoy games and cake and it was the only other birthday that involved a large gathering of people besides my McDonald’s experience. I was mostly aware of the planning of these parties, and had never experienced the thrill of a “surprise” party. Nor have I had a piñata. I still lament the lack of piñatas through the years…..

Buster, bless his heart, is great at a LOT of things. Keeping secrets is not one of them. This is a good thing though, and proves how honest, loyal and trustworthy he is. He did manage to surprise me with some gifts this Christmas, and I was impressed, but I at least had been asked for feedback on most of the gifts I received. This is fine, because it just means he is concerned that I get what I really want. I can’t blame him after the mental breakdown I had over a Dooney and Burke purse he gave me last year. I thought he wanted me to be someone I was not, and really he just thought I’d like a nice purse. He’s vowed never to make that mistake again in spite of the fact that I grew to enjoy carrying a nice bag. My loss.

In addition to the purse, I received another “surprise” last year. The timing of my birthday coincided with our new apartment being ready, so I actually spent my birthday weekend packing, moving, and cleaning. This lead me to believe that in spite of the slip up Buster had made weeks before, nothing was really going to happen for my birthday. A slip up, you ask? Well, it happened something like this:

Scene: My bedroom. It is approximately midnight, and I am mostly asleep. Buster had the opportunity to go out with his friends, and after all his hard work, I encouraged him to take it. I declined to join in, opting for a good night’s sleep instead.

Buster enters the room is is not particularly quiet about it. I am now awake. He proceeds to regale me with his night’s adventures as I grow more annoyed at being awake instead of asleep. He attempts to improve his standing by mentioning their conversations, and his references to how awesome I am. This does improve my mood slightly. “I told them how great you are and how we’re  planning your awesome birthday party.” Ooops. Now I am annoyed again. “Oh man, I didn’t just say that out loud, did I?” Yep.

The next morning I express my disappointment at having my “surprise” party spoiled. “What party?” he asks. I cock an eyebrow. He smiles his charming, lopsided, Han Solo grin and continues to vehemently deny anything of the sort. This continues for a couple of weeks. Each time I speculate about my “surprise” party, he steadfastly denies it.

I must admit that he did such a good job keeping a poker face after that initial slip, I thought it really had all been a ruse. Especially when my birthday came and he reminded me that we were too busy moving to bother with a party. I agreed.

The following weekend I had toyed with the idea of traveling to a Frisbee competition on Sunday morning with my friend Lara and her dogs. This would mean going to bed quite early Saturday evening and getting up equally early Sunday morning. I spent Saturday afternoon cleaning and finishing up from the move the previous weekend, and was tired by the time Buster came home from work. He’d told me throughout the day “don’t work too hard” and was weird each time I mentioned the Frisbee competition. I was a little grouchy when he asked me to come with him to take some tools back to his friend Mike, and initially wanted to stay home. The more he persisted that I join him, the more suspicious I became.

“Should I wear something cute to go return that tool to Mike?” I asked with a quizzical smile. He shrugged in a non-committal fashion and left the room.

At this point, I am fairly sure something is up, but I don’t know the specifics. We drive to the area of town where Mike and Ashley lived and suddenly Buster gets a call from Mike.

“Oh, you’re not ready for us to come by yet? Ok. We’ll go get coffee then.” So we drive down the street to the Starbucks. Before we make it into the parking lot, Buster gets a text and decides he doesn’t really want coffee after all. I am now chuckling as we change directions and head down a familiar street.

Now I had often mentioned previously how much I liked bowling and that I would love to get everyone together for this. I had also mentioned my favorite bowling alley resided on the street down which we are now headed. Coincidence?

Sure enough, we pull up and head inside. Buster is saying nothing. As we get past the concession area, there are all my family and friends in the lounge/party area with party favors, cupcakes, and presents! We had a blast playing a few games of bowling and enjoying the birthday treats. My friend Rob made sure everyone utilized the fun twisty straws by declaring that “If you don’t use the twisty straws, you don’t love Bonnie!” Luckily, everyone used the straws (even though they were very difficult to actually suck liquid through). My friends Chris and Carol even made the drive from Amelia Island to attend. I do believe it was the first time they had ever seen me wearing real clothes and not covered in dirt from doing agility. I am amazed they even recognized me.

My wonderful cousin Jane, who had been Buster’s partner in the planning of this occasion, had constructed an awesome Ms. Pacman themed party sign (I do currently hold the high score of 140,000 on my uncle’s personal game console) and some gluten free cupcakes. I had the sign displayed in my bedroom until last month when we rearranged and finally took it down and put it in the closet, and although the cupcakes still did not agree with my digestive system, they were very delicious and special. When Jane asked how surprised I was, I hinted that I’d known enough to wear something presentable even though we were just running an errand. The look she shot at her co-conspirator was priceless.

Needless to say, I did not attend the competition the following day, as Lara had been in on the planning and knew not to encourage me to go. So although it wasn’t “truly” a surprise, it was certainly one of the most memorable and thoughtfully conceived experiences of my life.

My uncle also got me a 42in, High Def, flat-screen TV, so that was pretty awesome too. Viva la 30’s!!