Last year my mom and I took a brief mother-daughter trip to NYC. We had SO much fun; we saw the Rockettes Christmas Super Duper Uber Extraveganza (no, really, it was amazing), we took a tour of the city including riding the ferry out to see the Statue of Liberty, we posed for pictures at the ice-rink at Rockefeller plaza, we asked a secret service guy for directions, we saw gorgeous cathedrals and the Empire State Building and so many fun things. Being two hicks from Idaho, NYC often left us awestruck, slack-jawed and/or laughing hysterically. One of my favorite images, though, was from when I went for a walk by myself while my mom rested; I was just so high on the energy of the city that I just had to keep walking and walking and walking. At one point, as I walked up one of the avenues toward Central Park, I passed by a tavern. As I passed, the door swung open and out came Santa! Then another....and another....and another... All in all, I counted EIGHT Santas and let me tell you, they had been enjoying the nog. They were stumbling a little bit and, I shit you not, singing. God, I wish I'd had a camera!!
I wonder, though, how traumatic that scene would have been if a child had witnessed not one drunken Santa, but eight. How would his mother have explained that one??
Anyway, happy holidays to you and yours. Ho Ho Ho!!! Meeeeerry Christmas!!