Never Throw Hard-boiled Eggs into Someone Else’s Car
April 7, 2001, started like any other Saturday. I had no idea what was day had in store for me. If I had, I would have stayed in bed.
BYU was hosting an Easter Egg Hunt for the local children on Maeser Hill. Even though it was cold and rainy, my family decided to brave the weather and go anyway. Besides, maybe fewer families would show up and my kids could get more eggs!
As is the case with all public Easter Egg Hunts, don’t go if you aren’t going to be on time. They last on average about three minutes, so latecomers need not bother. In our haste to get five small kids dressed in raincoats, hats, and gloves, I forgot my glasses. I am not totally blind, but I can’t see far away without them. I did not think it would be a big deal since I wasn’t the one driving. Little did I know that this would start a chain of events that would lead to one of my most embarrassing moments… ever.
The Easter Egg Hunt started at 8:55 a.m. and ended at 8:59 a.m. It seemed like a waste of putting on raincoats, hats and gloves, to just turn around and go home, so we decided to walk around campus for a while. We dropped our goodies off at the car, which were plentiful. (I was right about families staying away because of the rain.)
As we are putting our stash in the car, we notice a family jumping out of their car and running up the hill towards the Easter Egg Hunt. Three little kids had their baskets in tow. My husband says, “There won’t be anything left, lets give them some of ours.” We told our kids about the late family and they eagerly agree to donate some of their treats. Fortunately one of the windows was partially rolled down so we could throw eggs and candy into their car, aiming for the two car seats.
Now, that was a good deed right? Shouldn’t the heavens have smiled down upon me for donating some of our goodies to that family who missed the Easter Egg Hunt? The angels should have said, “What a nice mother for thinking of others, we are going to make sure nothing goes wrong for her for the rest of the day.” I think so too, but Nooooo.
Instead they said, “Why is that woman throwing hard-boiled eggs into someone else’s car? Why isn’t she rolling up their window? Can’t she see it’s raining? Oh, she’s going to get it now!” Naively I head back up the hill to campus.
We decide to check out the newly renovated library. Apparently they weren’t quite finished, because as we walk in, there are signs posted everywhere explaining that no water or bathrooms are in use. We walk all over the library looking at each floor, trying to remember how it was when Bradford and I went there 10 years before.
After a while, my four-year-old son, Bruce announces, “I have to go to the bathroom.” Remembering all the bathrooms are out of order, we decide to go to another building hoping that my son has given us enough notice.
Bradford then says, “I’ll go get the car, you take Bruce to the bathroom, and I’ll pick you up in front of the student union building.” What I should have said was, “No, I’m not leaving your side!” Instead I say, “Sounds good to me.”
Bruce and I go one way; Bradford and the rest of the kids go another. I head for the student union building, or the “Wilk”, hoping it hasn’t changed so much since I was an undergrad that I won’t be able to find a bathroom.
Success! We easily find a restroom. And because that went so quickly I decide we have time to look around so I can relive some memories.
After what seems like long enough, I decide to go out and wait for Bradford.
Much to my surprise I see that Bradford is waiting for us. I begin to open the sliding door and once again am surprised to find the door locked. “What is Bradford doing? Can’t he see that I am trying to put Bruce into the van?” I peer through the windows and see that all the doors are locked. I walk up to the front to ask Bradford to unlock the doors, when the window starts to roll down. I poke my head inside to say, “Why won’t you unlock the doors?” Then I scream and jump back, “AAAHHHHH!” There was another man inside my van! Then it hits me, THIS IS NOT MY VAN! I am trying to get into someone else’s car.
It just so happened that a man with kids was waiting for his wife, in a Ford Windstar the exact same color as ours. I quickly gather myself together and say, “I’m sorry. I thought this was my van.” The man looks at me and says… nothing.
Not a “That’s okay, it could have happened to anyone.” Or a “Don’t worry about it.” Or even a “Hey lady! Get away from my van!” Silence. After a moment of us just staring at each other I try to break the ice, “How about you take me home, and when your wife gets here my husband can take her home?”
Okay, I admit not one of my funniest lines, but worth a small chuckle at least. He continues to stare at me, not saying a word. At this point I realize there’s nothing left for me to do but back away and run into the building. As I enter the glass doors, a woman about my age walks out and into that van.
As they drove off, I imagined I could hear what he was telling his wife. “You won’t believe what just happened. Some lady just tried to break into the van.”
She gasps, “What did you do?”
“I locked the doors and kept praying that she’d just go away.”
So if you are ever at a dinner party and some guy starts to tell you a story about a soaking wet crazy woman who tried to get him to take her home, will you please tell him that I am not a psycho? Explain to him that I didn’t have my glasses, it was raining, and he looks very much like my husband, especially in that green jacket.
I have vowed to never again throw hard-boiled eggs into somebody else’s car, and I never have.