Best. Valentine's. Ever.

For this story to really have the appropriate impact, you need a little history.

SPF cannot keep a secret. He can also very rarely manage to manifest a surprise for someone like me who is incredulous, investigative, and very quick to pick up any little hints dropped on purpose or on accident. The latter is obviously contributed to by the former.

A few weeks ago SPF and I were having a random conversation and he accidentally mentioned that we had Valentine’s Day plans. I, being of an inquisitive nature, picked up on this right away and started poking a prodding and trying to ferret out what it was that we would be doing on February 14th.

He was a rock.

So I started asking him questions about the evening to try and determine what he had planned based on his responses. Not only what he said but the way he responded. Again, I was left with no information.

So Monday he tells me only the vital information. I have to be home by 5:45 to get ready because we have dinner reservations at 6:30. I am so on it. Based on the timeframe I realized that the total driving time can’t be more than 15 minutes, because he would have allowed me 30 minutes to get ready, because he is sweet and knows that I will take at least that long even if I wasn’t given the time, and if we had reservations, he would want to be on time. So, there are only a handful of places within fifteen minutes of the house that would be special enough for such an event, and only one with a specific Valentine’s Day menu that is scrumptious. So, I figured it out! Yeah for me!

When he got home, he started driving and I asked where we were going. He smiled sheepishly and said Trattoria I Trulli. I knew it! He smiled and said that he expected I had figured it out. We were running a little late so we were worried about the reservation being lost, as this is a favorite haunt of many locals. When we arrived they hemmed and hawed, but eventually told us that our table would be ready in 5 minutes. Yay! Relief. Lovely dinner ahead of us, relaxing conversation, great food, what else could we ask for? We had it made, once we were sure that we had the reservation still.

For some reason, though, SPF was nervous about the time. “What’s wrong?” I inquired, assuming that his nervousness at almost missing the reservation was carrying over. He very nonchalantly explained “Well, we have other reservations at 8:00 that aren’t so flexible.”

What?? More?!? Unbelievable. I had absolutely no idea that there was anything beyond the lovely dinner that was planned. The fact that he could keep a larger secret from me was beyond impossible. And what was worse is that I had absolutely no idea where we could be going. I decided to let it go during dinner (though it still popped up in conversation) and we had a lovely time. When we were offered desert, SPF asked the time, and upon being informed that it was 7:45, he sat up straight and said “We have to go!”

The waiter, being understanding and clever, ran and got our check, whisked away with the credit card and returned only moments later with the receipt. SPF signed over a generous tip and off we were. But to where?!!? At this point my guessing game started. It had to be close, but what was close? The beach? True, but that doesn’t take a reservation. A movie? Our favorite theater was nearby, but we were headed in the wrong direction. Some special party? I don’t even know what that would be? Fabulous desert that I don’t know about? Maybe, but what would be better than the crème brule at the Trattoria? The fair grounds? Is there some sort of light show at the fair grounds? A special Valentine’s Day extravaganza.

He asked me to open the glove box at this point. Inside it was an envelope that exclaimed “Happy Valentine’s Day!” I opened it just before we were in sight of the gigantic blue and yellow tent that stands for the mystery, the grace, the beauty, the awe inspiring maneuvers of Cirque du Soliel. There they were, two tickets to Quidam.

Upon realizing our perilous position of running out of time and still having to park, make it to the tent, and make it inside in under five minutes, I focused on the goal. Once the car stopped I was at a dead run. In heels. I’m sure I resembled a Monty Python silly walker on speed, but there was no time for decorum. Even with the run, we had to wait outside through the intro, which was grueling because you could hear the ooohhs and ahhhhs coming from inside and we were prevented from experiencing it because the tent had to be in blackout. Two giant, black-velvet curtains hung in our way.

But once we slipped through the curtain, the world of Cirque presented itself in brilliant colors, costumes, coordination, and comedy all for the benefit of the eager audience. There were acrobats of all shapes and sizes. People were being thrown around like rag dolls, leaping, jumping, spinning around on suspended rings in mid-air. There were ring leaders and clowns, audience participation, and an acrobat who used two huge curtains of red cloth to perform incredible feats of strength, agility, beauty, and grace. There were rope winders, a woman with a giant rope swing, and an isometric pair so perfectly balanced it was often difficult to determine where one ended and the other began, balancing in precarious and impossible positions. They were statuesque. So lovely.

All in all, best Valentine’s Day ever.