When I was in high school, one of my friends threw a surprise party for me, sorta. She called me with the pretense of a “survey for a class” asking me about my favorite foods. Then she asked me to come over to her house. Somehow, I figured out that it was a party, but I was truly surprised by the refreshments - and I learned all my favorites were right nasty when served all at once.
My husband surprised me completely once. The company he worked for had a condo at the beach that employees could use for $30/night - good deal! So he booked it for a weekend around my birthday. I knew about this. Then he arranged for us to meet with another couple for dinner (we had all our kids with us too) - and we’d go back to the condo for birthday cake. Again, I knew about this.
Just after we got back to the condo, before we had cake or ice cream, his cell rang - he had to go to the office. I was bummed, but it happened on occasion. So I was sitting there with the other couple and the kids, wondering if we should go ahead and do cake anyway or hope hubby got back before too long.
About 15 minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. It was my husband and six of our other friends (who had placed the phone call) - bearing balloons! Definitely a surprise! I was glad we hadn’t gone ahead and cut the cake, tho I don’t think Lori would have let me do that!
Then there was the party I threw for my husband. His birthday is in November, and this particular year, it fell on a Sunday. I managed to convince our twisted group of friends to arrive at our house by 6AM (it’s dark then) gather in the garage, then come down the hall to our bedroom and wake us up. All were to wear jammies and slippers and we’d have breakfast together. Great idea, right?
I’d forgotten that my husband is a light sleeper, and because of some things that happened when he was in the Navy, when awakened suddenly, he goes into full defense mode. So here’s the scene - we’re in bed, sans jammies ourselves. It’s dark. Suddenly, there’s this gawd-awful cacaphony (I think they were singing “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”) accompanying a half a dozen shadowy figures coming into our bedroom.
Steve started screaming at the top of his lungs, and I wasn’t able to get him to listen to me. He jumped up and launched himself at the first shadow - happened to be our friend Mike - a skinny, short guy. He tackled Mike against the dresser (which was moved about 6" by the blow) still yelling. At that point, I got up, shoved the rest of the shadows back into the hall, shut the door, grabbed my robe, and turned on the light - all in about 5 seconds.
There was poor Mike in his jammies with curlers in his beard, my naked husband holding him down. Once the light came on, I was able to explain to Steve that this was a PARTY!!! :eek: He got up off Mike and put on some sweats. About that time, our daughter can into our room in tears - she wanted to be part of the surprise and she missed it. Fortunately, it was also missed by the couple who was bringing the video camera - they were late.
It took Steve about an hour to get his pulse back to normal. And we did have a lovely breakfast. Someone even had the forethought to bring a camera, so we have some photos of the breakfast. Our friends all wear weird bedroom slippers.
And I never planned a surprise party again. Come to think of it, it’s been a lot of years since I saw Mike too…