Gauntlet picked up

Life moves pretty fast when --

Wait, that's not true. Let's try again:

Life moves pretty slowly when you've ruined your own surprise party. There I was, in my room, midnight last Thursday night, sitting, waiting for my friends to start on the dreaded birthday song. Moments earlier I had walked in on the first ever surprise party for me.

Funny thing was, my actions were completely unintentional. Poor sleep from the night before left me doubting my coveted "fall asleep in under three minutes regardless of circumstance" ability. I walked to the kitchen to take some cough syrup. I ran into my roommate Will, conspicuously dressed in jeans and puffy coat circa 12:15 at night.

"What are you doing up? Go back to your room"

In the back of the kitchen I saw my friend Shannon lighting what appeared to be candles for a birthday cake. Holy smokes. A surprise party for me. Back to my bedroom I went.

* * *

I've been in many an awkward situation in my life, to the point where my friend Cait calls me "awkward Mike" (it's nice to be loved). Sitting in your bedroom, waiting to be summoned for a surprise party you busted up three minutes before ranks right near the top. I started laughing. Cackling. I didn't know what else to do. Pretend to read? Plan my outfit for the next day? Turn the light off because I'm "asleep"?

My roommates trip the electricity. I walk out my bedroom door, take a left and I'm in the dining room. The guitar strums and...there are 20 of my friends, all with candles, all singing an acoustic "Like a Prayer." This is all taking place at 12:30 on a school night, by the way. Sweet mercy what a great moment.

I do the thing where you collapse on the dining room table, head resting on crossed arms. My body heaves, half in laughter, half in legit appreciation for how loved I feel. I raise myself and look around the room. It's friends from all different groups, people who don't know each other but around whom they are apparently comfortable trying to hit high notes (just think of the chorus part of that song).

The song moves towards its end. I start thinking. Who am I supposed to hug first?

That question never needs an answer because -- and this is my favorite part -- the song ends, there's a pause and, with nary a word spoken, everyone blows out their candle and runs out the front door. It's a thing of beauty.

Later...
I can't sleep. Way too much adrenaline. Every once in a while I'll hear my roommate Chris (whose bedroom is directly above mine) walk around or laugh. When this happens I spring out of bed. Were they coming back for more? Never happened. But I would have been ready for it.

The next morning...
I thank my roommates. This was great. We run through the whole plan and how I foiled it not just with walking into the kitchen, but by staying up so late reading. Apparently they were waiting for my bedroom light to go off. Sorry about that. I tend to dawdle.

My roommate Josh tells me they "had to do something" after I'd thrown down the gauntlet with my last blog post. As usual, I had no idea what I was provoking with my silly, silly words.

Later that night...
I tell my friend Karyn how great the party was and how especially great it was to hear "Like a Prayer" instead of the birthday song. "I think everyone should have their favorite song sung to them instead of 'the birthday song'," I tell her.

"Of course you do," she says, "don't you remember writing that before? This was all your idea."

What can I say? I had literally no recollection of having written that. I'm an idiot...but a loved one

Epilogue:
Walking to work the next day, I receive several texts saying something along the lines of "have a colorful birthday." The reason why is soon revealed --



Yup, those are all post-it notes.