The Best Treasure Hunt EVER

I’ve always loved treasure hunts. For several years, on Valentine’s day, my mom would make each child an individual age-appropriate treasure hunt to find our little box of Sweethearts. Since I liked those so much, I started making treasure hunts too. When my cousins came to visit, if we didn’t put on a play, we made treasure hunts. Some of them required us to go traipsing around in the foothills behind my house, and I think someone threw up and another person got a gash in their leg, but hey . . . there’s still treasure at the end! Some treasures were more disappointing, like the little baggie of Marshmallow Mateys buried in the sandbox one time, but to me the thrill of the hunt was just as awesome as the treasure at the end.

The more elaborate the treasure hunt, the better. For example, I loved setting up treasure hunts where the treasure ended up being in the same room everyone started in. I remember one family home evening lesson where I sent everyone off to look for clues I’d already planted, while I set up the tootsie pops I had bought for the treasure. I think it was supposed to explain how we lived in heaven before we were born, but we had to go to earth (aka, the treasure hunt) to get the treasure at the end. It made sense when I was 9, okay?

I remember another treasure hunt I set up when my parents weren’t home, and I decided I wanted to make homemade pretzels. I sent my sisters and their friends on a treasure hunt while the pretzels were cooking, and then just before they got to the location of the treasure, I put the pretzels there. I think the pretzels were formed to spell out “You found it!” or some other encouraging message. Food is always a good treasure, right?

And the fun didn’t stop in high school. One of my favorite parts of date dances was the treasure hunt aspect — finding the bulky envelope under the globe in the library, decoding the obscure message about taffeta gowns, solving the sudokus to find out who was asking me.

But then I came to college. Suddenly there was no reason for treasure hunts. If a boy was going to ask you out, they weren’t going to waste time and energy asking you out. There wasn’t really anyone to make treasure hunts for like siblings or cousins, anyway.

So I kind of forgot about them. I got busy with other things. Occasionally I would walk around on campus and suddenly think about things in treasure-hunt mode. For instance, I was standing between the Harold B. Lee Library and the Herald Clark building and thought, “I’m standing between 2 Harolds! This would make a great clue . . . for what?”

But then Kevin and I started dating, and he in his infinite kindness and patience decided to humor me. One Wednesday afternoon last November while we were eating lunch, Kevin said, “I’ve got a special date planned.” After a bit of pestering from me, he finally admitted, “I’m planning a treasure hunt.”

“What’s the prize?” I asked. “A toaster oven?”

He paused for a second. Then, “Sure. Yes, the prize might be a toaster oven.”

And that was all he would say about it. The thought of this treasure hunt started driving me crazy! I knew he was going to propose any day, but I thought for sure it was going to be after Thanksgiving. After all, he had to ask my dad for my hand. So . . . what was the point of this treasure hunt?

Well, Friday rolled around, and after my terrible EE 313 quiz, I got a piece of engineering paper with instructions and mysterious matrices on it. Since “love note matrices,” as we liked to call them, weren’t unfamiliar to us, I was able to decipher it pretty quickly. (I have since learned they’re actually called Hill ciphers. Yay for cryptography class.) Where were we going to dinner? The decoded message said, “Australia.” In other words, Outback.

I’ll be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to anything that day. As I took what I mistakenly thought was a very easy Complex Analysis test, I kept thinking, “the sooner I finish this test the sooner I’ll go home and go on the treasure hunt!!!” I finished it and came home and got ready for my date with Kevin. He came around 5 with a beautiful bouquet of 5 roses. I found a vase and put them in. “Did you notice something about the roses?” he asked. “No . . .” I responded. “Aren’t there usually . . . 12 roses?” he hinted. I then looked at the plastic which the roses came in. Yep, there were supposed to be a dozen. Thus, the mission was made clear: recover the missing seven roses.

As we drove north on State Street under a beautiful, fiery sunset, I continued to pester Kevin. “What’s the prize going to be?” “I already told you, it’s a toaster oven!” Though Outback was packed, Kevin had already made a reservation. As we ate our steak, we talked about life and love and our relationship. When the waiter came with the check, he also brought a rose and an envelope. “Congratulations! This is a great idea, by the way,” he told Kevin. “I think I’ll use it for my girlfriend.” Did I catch on? No! I was so convinced that he was going to propose after Thanksgiving that even this huge slip didn’t faze me. I think when the stakes are high enough, even those who pride themselves on being ungullible can be surprised.

I read the note which said, “Go to the place where we had our first date and look for something that makes noise.” I smiled and said, “The Malt Shoppe.” (I could write another blog post about this long about how this first date even happened, but I’ll leave that for another time.) So off we went, looking for something that made noise. Kevin helped a lot, pointing to a pillar, then pointing to a particular spot on the pillar until I finally saw the whistle. I looked at Kevin quizzically, and he said, “blow it!” So I blew it and there from the darkness came one of Kevin’s roommates. He gave me another rose and envelope, then gave a slight bow and backed away into the darkness.

This note told us to “dig for treasure! X marks the spot”, or in other words, go to the Museum of People’s and Cultures to look for treasure. So off we went to the sandbox by the totem pole at the museum we had gone to a few weeks previously. We both dug and dug until we found another whistle. I blew it again, and Kevin’s roommate Ian came with his girlfriend Emma, both wearing warrior paint. Another rose, another envelope, and they too disappeared into the darkness.

This one told us, “Let’s hike the Y!” I said that jokingly almost every day as we walked home from school. Was he really going to make us do it? Luckily, the whistle was just waiting at the base of the Y, attached to a flashlight which was dangling from a branch of a tree to make it visible. Again, I blew the whistle, and one of our engineering friends emerged from the darkness with another rose and note.

The note informed us that the next clue would be waiting where Kevin had first seen me. It was in August 2008. He was fresh off his mission, and I was working as a Math Lab TA during a Math Refresher Course. Though we had never talked to each other, he had still remembered me and recognized me when we became friends 5 months later. Once we were in the math lab, I looked around a bit for the next whistle. Once I found it, I blew it, and there came Kevin’s roommate (the same who had delivered the whistle at the Malt Shoppe) with another rose and envelope.

All that was on the next clue was a door code. In we went to the CAEDM lab, where our friendship had first developed, where we first started to throw staples at each other. (We were shameless flirts.) We walked in, and there was a whistle in plain sight on a table. But there was a problem. Even though it was a Friday night, there were still people in there doing homework. I hesitated, and Kevin said, “You have to blow it.” So I did. A nice loud screech. The tapping sound of people typing stopped, and I could feel everyone looking at me. It felt like eternity before Ian and Emma finally showed up with a rose, a note, and a . . . toaster?

“See, I told you the prize was a toaster oven! Or at least, a toaster!”

“A toaster?” I asked. I examined it more closely. There were bread crumbs in it.

“It’s ours. You actually have to give it back.”

Ian and Emma took some pictures with us and the toaster and then left. I read the note. “Congrats! You’ve finished the treasure hunt!”

Kevin then said, “There are only eleven roses. But I know where the last rose is.” I would hope so.

We drove up University Parkway past the Marriott Center, then turned on 900 East and drove past the MTC, past the temple (wait, past the temple? My suspicion was wrong), and then Kevin took a right and we ended up at the temple after all. Oh boy. By this point I knew for sure what was coming. The butterflies in my stomach began to flutter excitedly. Kevin led me to a bench with another rose and another whistle. I blew the whistle and Kevin pulled a letter out of his pocket. I read it and teared up a bit. When I had finished reading, there was Kevin on bended knee, holding a beautiful ring out. “Kyra Michelle Moon, will you marry me for time and eternity?”

“Yes!”

And that was that! The best treasure hunt of my life ended with the best treasure I could ever dream of! I was engaged to the man I loved! (It turns out he had called my dad earlier that week but failed to mention it so I could still harbor the delusion that he needed to ask.)

This past year has been so happy and so fun, and I’m so grateful to Kevin for everything he has done to make me so incredibly happy. I love him lots!