Sword Machine

At work on Friday (June 13), I invite my coworkers to come out to ImprovBoston that night, but all of them have other plans. MaryBeth drives into Boston that evening, and we go to meet our friend Sands for some pre-show dinner in Davis Square. Sitting outside Starbucks, I watch her respond to a text message, think of asking her who it was from, but decide not to. Sands joins us for a peaceful and delicious meal at the reliable Anna’s Taqueria, but also cannot attend the show that night, as he has to tinker with his brand new motorcycle. We go down to ImprovBoston shortly afterwards, and I see my first show there, in the smaller “cabaret” space, a Harold Night, with Rondo and Brian Perry’s Marjear. On stage are the rest of Uniprov, Sasha Goldberg, and Steve Kl. Both groups put on a great show, and my attention never wavers, save for MaryBeth getting up once to use the bathroom.

I have more close friends in Boston than I do casual acquaintances in New York. But I rarely come up to Boston these days, and even more rarely do improv. So I find that instead of feeling like my friends’ peer, I expect to be seen more as a hanger-on, an attachment whose novelty points will be completely spent just to humor my visit with some conversations and perhaps a drink. After the show, Brian says he is hungry and could go for like a slice of pizza. I’m totally full from Anna’s, but to drink up the companionship, I decide I’d tag along. Most of the rest of the gangaere also interested (except for MaryBeth, who has to have a serious talk with a visibly distraught Jacey), so a good sized group of us go to Hi Fi. Happy to have ended up with the cool kids, I grill them each in turn about their lives, then reminisce a bit in a less structured way.

After a little while, people seem anxious to go back to the theatre to get their things and leave for the night, so we head on back and I decide to look for MaryBeth. She isn’t in the lobby area, nor is Jacey, so I assume they are off in the back somewhere. Brian then wonders aloud to himself where everyone is, so since we apparently had a common goal, I decide to follow him. Seeing the door to the basement, I figure MB and Jacey must be down there talking, and say so to Brian. Silent, Brian just keeps walking forward, opening the door to the cabaret space. My mind equally silent, I decide to follow him for no reason into a dark room.

And suddenly it’s light and a crowd of 30 people is yelling “SURPRISE!” right at me! Each face I dart my eyes to elevates the unrealness of it. Ian belongs an hour away in Worcester; Travis two away in Providence; Tyler and some guy from three away in New Haven; and Chris Passero four away in Catskill! My vision quickly darkens on the periphery, and I experience tunnel vision for the very first time. Armed with that reduced level of consciousness, I (also for the first time) am able to successfully question whether I might actually be asleep and not awake. Eventually, Tammer and Lisa come forward to give me a hug, and break my paralyzed trance. I remark to no one in particular that this feels like a dream, which gets a ton of laughter from people who may have mistakenly thought I was in the slightest bit joking. This situation repeats itself when I tell nobody that I wish I could hug everybody at once.

I have a video of the preceding paragraph.

Somehow, MaryBeth had put together a huge surprise party for me, and everyone executed it perfectly. I had even felt like I was the one making all the decisions leading up to me being there. This is what makes it such an earthshaking shock to me, because I had had such an illusion of control over my plans that I simply did not think there had been room for such plans to be crafted against me. Simply one of the many times MaryBeth’s plentiful and undeserved love reveals me to be a fool.

The first person I hug has got to be Chris, who came so far through space and time to be there. Chris and I haven’t kept in touch as much as either of us mean to, but it never seems to diminish the love we always have ready for the other. He’s a great friend, and one of the best men I know.

To top it all off, MaryBeth decided to ask everybody to chip in money towards sending me to a conference I’d learned of. I’d mentioned it a couple weeks prior on this site, about how it was exactly the thing I’d want to go to, and about how I couldn’t afford it. So this, this was really just too much, and some people gave me more than I really think they should have. The only thing I could do in return for their help is make the best use of it, so I go and register online at 3am that night and resolve to take advantage of everything I could at it. There’ll be more on how that conference actually turned out to come.

I would learn later that MaryBeth had assured everyone with great confidence that I would cry. That’s fair—I’m a cryer. As it turns out, my emotional resources were divided entirely between shock, and desperately wanting to ensure each guest goes away feeling it had been worth it to come, just for me. I’m too busy going around talking to everyone to feel anything else than gratitude. Only later, after I look at what I have now that I didn’t have before the party (and I don’t mean cards, but feelings) does it really hit me.

That’s about all I can write on the matter. It was the best birthday I have ever had, by far. Thanks to everyone who came, and my love to MaryBeth. You guys all rule, over exciting lands with dancing women and peasants who really just don’t mind. I don’t think I’ll ever top you.

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