Dysfunctional Santa.
Every family has their tales of Christmas mayhem and foolishness. Some of the greatest all time Christmas movies are based on family dysfunction. Think about the movie Christmas Vacation. Everyone has over the top family members and a multitude of family disfunction. My family was not any different. Well, maybe a little bit different. You see, It all happened one night a long time ago. It was 1990 something. Our family was having our typical good ole fashioned family Christmas. There we stood elbow to elbow. Sweating our butts off because we had 30 to 50 people crammed in to a house that could only hold about ten comfortably. we stood stuffing our faces with delectable goodies like Uncle Joe's famous pasta and potato salad.. My aunt Doris would make her famous cheese ball that, well, looked a little bit like she rolled it in freshly grown meadow of secret grassy herbs and spices. Ham, Turkey and of course the adults only eggnog.
The two of the biggest and most highly anticipated events of the night was our annual visit from Ole Saint Nick followed by all of the kids being dragged through the cold, snow and mud to sing Christmas carols to the friends and neighbors in my Aunt Doris's neighborhood. This particular Christmas we packed the living room full of tiny tots with glowing eyes and angst filled preteen middle-schooler's dressed up in their best outfits like something straight outta the band Good Charlotte. Newly minted teenage boy's in baggy bottomed butt flashing overhauls. And a whole lot of wiggling and fluttering about for a coveted front row seat for Santa's arrival. Anyway, I digress.
There we were waiting patiently for the first sight or sound of jingling bells. The children watched the doors and windows carefully for any thing that would signal the arrival of St. Nick and his bag of gifts. Only this year we had one small hiccup in the program. No one in the family was able to fulfill the role of Santa. Some of our guys had outgrown the suit. Some of our men were too skinny to fill the suit. Still other's would be recognized by that gang of feisty sugar filled toddlers waiting to receive their gift from the Jolly fat man in the big red outfit. All the kiddos were waiting, with the exception of one little angel, who was terrified of Santa. My job was to sit that poor little kid on my lap and let her dig her finger nails into my arms until blood ran so that she wouldn't run out of the room screaming and crying in terror. It was hard for her to overcome her fear and get her much wanted gift. I can't say that I blame her, I'm not a big fan of sitting on some strange smelly dudes lap myself. If you look at my arms closely you may see a faded scar upon my arm from little Macy. I wonder if she still fears Santa?
After some finagling and phone calling my super cool dude of a cousin Travis roped one of his friends into the job of playing Santa to a host of snot nosed, apple cheeked ornery little kids who had been as good as they possibly could be and truly deserved their neatly wrapped parcel. We only had one small problem. Santa was a little bit tipsy. Not just tipsy I'm almost positive that Kris Kringle had made a stop at his old friend Mary Jane's house and had been partaking of some homemade hooch before he climbed into the suit and grabbed the bag of gifts.
Immediately upon entering the room ole inebriated Clause weaved and bobbed his way through the pack of rabid wolf children to the magic Santa throne that awaited him in the middle of the room.
As he sat down upon the chair he slightly missed his spot and had to be gently but forcefully guided into the right seat. Meanwhile our poor little terrified girl was quickly drawing blood from my forearms and squeezing my wrist so tight that I was beginning to lose all circulation from my upper body.
Our crazy over the top dysfunctional Santa looked at that group of kids and immediately eyed the under aged teen dressed up as a groupie from her favorite band. He leaned over and gave her a wink. He then gave his best imitation of Michael Keaton from Beetlejuice and basically said " Hey little girl wanna sit on Santa's lap?" I swear I heard him say to my cousin Shawn, " Hey dude I've come for your daughter". Poor Cousin Shawn, almost lost his cool. Had we not stepped in to restrain him I think he would have ripped Santa apart with one bare hand squeezing him like a tick and popping his scrawny little drunk head off of his overly intoxicated body. Finally, all the gifts were passed out and our very jolly half baked Santa took leave out the front door to wander off into the night, or so we thought.
A good twenty minuets or so later my two middle school son's come running into the other room to drag me to the front door so that I could witness one of the most hysterical sights of my whole entire life. There stood our half frozen bewildered Santa in all of his dysfunctional drunk and extremely happy glory, standing in the middle of road still dressed in full costume, jingling his bells and begging for someone to help him find his way back home.
The way home was directly across the street but none the less he was lost, cold and the wacky weed was starting to wear off. To this day I wonder if he even remembers why he was lost. I chuckle at the thought of him trying to figure out if he even remembers how the hell he ended up in the middle of the street dressed up as Ole Saint Nick.
You can't make this stuff up people. This is not the life I signed up for. But none the less, at least for me, that was one unforgettable holiday. Tis the season and please, remember to check your Santa's blood alchol level before turning him lose around your children.
Merry Christmas.
Love Shel.
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