Last evening I shared an experience with a few close friends that caused me to take pause and consider the state of roving, live characters in this country. For those of you unfamiliar with this phenomenon I ask you only to visit Santa at your local mall - though this category could encompass any number of favorite holiday figures such as The Easter Bunny, The Summer Solstice Fairy or even Resurrected Jesus Christ. (Too soon?) I have recently had two encounters with different Christmas-themed roving characters that have created a certain disquiet in my heart. The first was last week as we dutifully drove our truck to the Ryder service center to make sure that it still officially was always on the verge of breaking down. Turns out, it is. On our way to find this out, though, we noticed a man wearing an excellent Santa outfit - beard and all - on the corner. The only thing out of the ordinary was the homemade sign he was holding. He was talking to children, waving at cars and generally smearing anyone that passed by with a nice big wad of holiday cheer. As we approached, we were able to more clearly read what had been hand-written on the sign: SANTA FOR HIRE (617)555-1212.
!!!!!!!!
I don't know what to say about this. I understand that it is very, very funny but I am heartbroken by it. I think it is because the very last Santa I would EVER hire would be SANTA FOR HIRE. I mean, it's a liability, right? Maybe I'm wrong. I certainly hope so.
The second character encounter, as I said, was last night. We dined at the Perkins next to our hotel. Upon our arrival we were so giddy at the prospect of cheap eggs and mounds of pancakes and we hardly noticed that there was a very large Frosty The Snowman wandering slowly around the restaurant. The thing about it is, this Perkins was far and away the smallest Perkins I've ever seen. Probably twenty five tables at most all crammed into a small, square dining area. Frosty barely fit through the aisles past the waitstaff. Frosty did sixteen laps in the forty minutes it took us to dine... walked the same route, waved at the same children and endured our entire table blushing and giggling like sixth graders in sex-ed class EVERY time he went by. Then frosty's owner showed up with a big purple bag that said "Frosty" on it and they went into the ladies room together. This was both scandalous and fascinating, so we waited very conspicuously by the hostess stand. Five minutes later, a young woman who could have been me emerged with the glow of someone who had just wandered a Perkins in Allentown, Pennsylvania for three hours. And I thought my job was frightening.
So that is the state of life-sized characters in our country. Perhaps George Bush should take a day or two to consider what he should do about this. Don't rush into anything, just think about it. I mean, he can't say he doesn't know now.
So, since nothing funny happened today except for three gun shots going off instead of one onstage, I dedicate the next verse of my song to santa.
On the tenth day till the end of tour the kids from Classics saw:
SANTA FOR HIRE
Tom's bloody nose
and
One Diabetic Seizure.
