I was heading to a conference in Washington D.C., a trip I had been anticipating for weeks. My wife, Ellen, had meticulously packed my bags, ensuring I had everything I needed. As I settled into my seat on the plane, a woman sat next to me. She seemed friendly enough, but I was mostly focused on reviewing my notes for the conference. About an hour into the flight, she took out her phone and started making a Wi-Fi call. I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping, but her conversation quickly caught my attention. “Hi Ellen. It’s Cynthia. So, did you already send your husband off?” she said. My heart skipped a beat. My wife’s name is Ellen. And yes, she had indeed packed my bags. I tried to rationalize it, thinking it could be a common name, but the coincidence was unsettling. I strained to hear the reply, but Cynthia had headphones in, making it impossible to decipher the other end of the conversation. Then, she continued, “He won’t be back until the day after tomorrow, so you’ve got plenty of time. Don’t panic. You’ve got this!”
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My anxiety grew with each word. What was Ellen planning? Why did this Cynthia woman sound so conspiratorial? And then she dropped the bomb: “HE’LL BE IN PIECES!” The words hung in the air, heavy with dread. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. Was this some kind of threat? Was my wife in danger? Or was she the one posing the danger?
I tried to play it cool, desperately attempting to glean more information. I casually tried to make small talk, hoping to steer the conversation toward some context, anything that could explain the cryptic message. But Cynthia wasn’t interested. She gave me curt, dismissive replies, clearly not wanting to engage. The whole thing freaked me out immensely. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.
I spent the rest of the flight in a state of heightened anxiety, my mind racing with possibilities. I couldn’t concentrate on my conference notes; all I could think about was Ellen and the ominous words, “He’ll be in pieces!” As soon as the plane landed, I made a snap decision. I couldn’t wait another day to find out what was going on. I rebooked my flight and flew back home the very next day.
I arrived home a day early, my heart pounding with each step I took toward the front door. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and called out Ellen’s name. Silence. I cautiously made my way through the house, my senses on high alert. And then I entered the living room… I was utterly SPEECHLESS.
There, in the middle of the living room, was my wife, Ellen. But she wasn’t alone. She was surrounded by dozens of other women, all named Ellen! It was a surprise party for all the women named Ellen in our town. And the ‘he’ that was mentioned earlier? That was **a gigantic, custom-made piñata in the shape of a ‘He’ that Ellen’s friend made for a party game**. I felt relieved and incredibly silly all at once. I was happy that she wasn’t cheating on me, but the moment was quite awkward.
