But Where the Hell is the Easter Egg!?

Recently, the hubs and I, and a group of our dearest friends, gathered (and hugged and laughed and got a bit teary-eyed) after a long, LONG 15 months of being apart. It was a glorious evening, and I loved every single minute of it! The big bear hugs, seeing faces in person versus via Zoom, patting shoulders, sitting close on a sofa for a moment – it was simply one of the warmest, most wonderful evenings I think we’ve ever spent together.

Among this group of wonderful people is our friend John, who is a brilliant computer programmer, and all-around GREAT guy with a wicked sense of humor.

I happened to wander outside to sit with the group of guys while they were chatting about this and that, and the conversation meandered into computers and the fun you can have

with them.

John the computer guy said something like: Now what’s really fun is programming an Easter Egg. Ah, we all said, that must be pretty cool. Someone asked: How do you do that?

So ... he began to tell us all about programming an Easter Egg. It's some kind of a cool app where you click here and there, and Ta-Da!

John continued to tell us about the Easter Egg and how cool he made it – and how if you knew some specific detail about Lance Armstrong and the 1998 Tour de France, you’d get it.

Wait, I say. If you knew that you got it? YEP, he said, going on to say: It was so cool because most everyone had to look it up – but a TRUE Tour de France lover (with a devious nod of his head) would have known right away. (I might add that he is a HUGE Tour de France fan.)

At this point, all the guys are asking questions about all the details and talking about the Tour de France from years past - and I’m still stuck on where the Easter egg is.

Now picture this: I’m sitting next to our other friend Dale, who also has a great sense of humor. He quietly said to me: So where’s the Easter egg? Like, in a French chicken coup with Lance? We laugh, but we’re still lost.

John and the guys kept talking, and everyone was getting even more animated about how cool this was. This went on for several more minutes.

Dale and I, well, we’ve gotten even more hopelessly lost, laughing hysterically (although trying to be semi-quiet) about where the hell the egg is. France? The Alps? In a French chicken coup? At Lance Armstrong’s house? Is it yellow like the famous yellow jersey? Is it hard-boiled or plastic?

At one point, we were laughing so hard we could hardly breathe because we have NO idea how they’re getting from Point A to Point Z, and an Easter egg appears on a computer.

Again I asked, holding back tears of laughter – so WHERE is the Easter egg? One of the guys looked at me, looked at Dale, looked at John, looked back at me and said: Wait. EGG?

YES, we said – Where the HELL is the egg?!?

To which they all blink a couple times, start to laugh, then laugh harder – which made us laugh ever harder (if that’s possible) – and one of them said ... It’s NOT an actual Easter Egg. It’s an Eeeeeaster Egg.

Uh, ya, we know. But what does Lance Armstrong have to do with the Easter Egg???

More blinking.

Then John, ever the gracious friend, said something like: OH, Wait. You thought all this time I was talking about an EGG? An Easter EGG? New hysterical laughter from the bunch. No, NO, he said (even more laughter) ... an Eeeeeeaster Egg is coding that you imbed in a program – and it’s about the fun of the clues and the ‘hunt’ to figure it all out. So they had to know about the 1998 Tour de France. It was one of the clues. I have to admit, I was quite clever on this one (said with his devilish grin).

Wait!!!!!! Dale and I say. There’s NO egg? 20 minutes later and there’s no egg?? Lance and France have nothing to do with the EGG??? We were SO LOST!

To which everyone absolutely crumbled into the hardest, tear-filled laughter EVER - including Dale and yours truly. And we kept laughing about it All. Evening. Long.

I’m sure as the years go by, the Egg story will continue as we gather together – probably growing in hilarity and exaggeration every time it’s told.

I, for one, (thanks to my wonderful and funny friends John and Dale) am going to have a yellow Easter egg every year.

And I'll name it Lance.