Over thirty years ago, I had a run-in with a scary Easter Rabbit. It was documented on film for all-time and I post it every year for the enjoyment of those who get a kick out of my suffering (there are many). On this Easter, Andy and I had brunch at the Fairmont Copley Plaza’s Oak Long Bar + Kitchen, so I felt safe that we wouldn’t be running into any frightening ladies or gentlemen in a bunny suit. I was wrong. Something told me to start with a Bloody Mary instead of a Mimosa, and I heeded that inner voice. Good call, as before our food even arrived I saw the big furry white thing as soon as it entered the room. It began making its way down the long bar to where Andy and I were seated. I could have beat a hasty retreat through the back door, but I held fast to my chair and willed myself the power to nod my head as it passed quickly by. I finished my drink and congratulated myself on surviving.
When we finished with the meal, I made the foolish suggestion that we walk through the ornate lobby on our way out. As we neared the exit, there stood the bunny in our path. Andy said it was my last chance. I circled the white suit, faced his vacant eyes straight-on, and said, “Would you mind if I took a picture with you? I had a very traumatic Easter bunny moment in my childhood, and I’m still working through it.” His/her attendants laughed, Andy snapped the picture, and we were on our way. Childhood exorcism accomplished. (And now I’m feeling quite empowered, so just wait until you see what I do to Santa’s lap this year…)
