I was 17 and decided with some friends to hold an Easter egg hunt geared to the handful of other teens we hung out with. It was weirdly wholesome of us considering we mostly drank Mad Dog and loitered at Waffle House.
— ?? David Griner ?? (@griner) April 15, 2022
Our commitment level to the egg making was…minimal. We dyed 2 dozen eggs, figuring that’d be plenty for the handful of our friends who showed up the Saturday before Easter.
But we took the hiding VERY seriously. We arrived at Monte Sano park in Huntsville, Alabama, around 8 am and got started.
Monte Sano is a mountaintop park filled with boulders and cliffs and crags, and we scaled around hiding eggs in the hardest-to-reach spots like we were paranoia-deranged lizard people trying to hide our young from eagles.
We climb down, filthy and cracking up at the idea of our friends trying to find these impossibly tucked-away hardboiled death trinkets.
We walk back up to the entry area of the park to find our friends, but it’s hard to spot them.
Because it’s so crowded.
There are 100 families. Little kids with baskets everywhere. Someone asks if we know where the egg hunt is. Someone else asks. They keep asking. “Who’s running this Easter egg hunt?”
It’s a good question.
Something dawns on me, so I ask:
“Where did you all hear about an Easter egg hunt here?”
Me: “ABC? Channel 31?”
Us, collectively: “Fuck.”
(Rewind 24 hours)
The day before, we tell our friends about our dumb egg hunt idea. One older friend says he can’t make it because he’ll be working late. At the TV station. WAAY 31.
That night, the weather man asks if he has Easter plans. “Just going to an egg hunt at Monte Sano in the morning.”
The weather man, understandably, makes a logical assumption. He announces live on TV that the Saturday weather will be great.
For the egg hunt. At Monte Sano…
(I for one think the last line should be a rotating header here!)