Some people I know react badly when surprise is bestowed upon them. This is because I am one such.

My auntie engineered a surprise party for me on the occasion of my 16th birthday. Only someone of great courage would surprise a 16-year-old female, a breed known to have abandoned all tolerance for surprise no later than age 13.

Further, to orchestrate a teen female’s first COED party, a COED party at which the teen female is the reason for a COED party, is way beyond courage right into crazy-luneytune land.

I think Mom played her part in keeping the fete a surprise because she loved her sister(my auntie)and she loved me. I, however, do not deem this an excuse.

(Mom playing her part and Me playing the part of the surprise-ee that day):

MOM: Auntie M needs you to babysit.

Surprise-ee: NO!NO!NO! When?

MOM: Today. Tonight actually.

Surprise-ee: NO!NO!NO! Tonight?

MOM: Tonight. You should change clothes, too.

Surprise-ee: NO!NO!NO! Why?

MOM: She’s having business clients over. You can babysit and help serve.

Surprise-ee: NO!NO!NO!

MOM: I’ll drive you.

Surprise-ee: FINE!FINE!FINE!

MOM: Fine.

Mom drove. I clumped and grumped my put-upon self into my auntie’s house. If I knew how, I would have glared. Instead, I petrified into a salt pillar at the sight of bestest-buddies, sort-of friends and even BOYS there in the pine-panelled basement. They were oddly installed about, like abandoned toys, and shrieking: SURPRISE!SURPRISE!SURPRISE!

Surprise-ee: Uh-Oh.

I believe there’s a normal tendency to eschew surprise because it’s unpredictable. If it was predictable, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Ah, it’s a tricky concept to describe. Of course you normally have a suprise-er and a surprise-ee; yet sometimes both are you. Sometimes, it’s your very own self that surprises you.