Santa's got a cool, new ride

Normally, on my 5:30 a.m. drive to work on Fridays, I share the road only with my imagination. But last Friday was anything but normal.

I didn't realize it was the craziest shopping day of the year at first. With my half-opened eyes on the road, I couldn't figure out why everyone was out on the road. Driving large vehicles with roof racks, pulling U-Hauls, they had to be moving, I thought. I didn't even think it could be the first day of shopping season.

Then, I pulled up to the intersection. For some reason, I looked over at the car beside me, and there, driving a brand-new Camaro and smoking, was Santa Claus, drinking a cup of coffee. I don't know what I was most surprised about -- that Santa was sitting there, or the fact he was driving a Camaro while chugging a cup of joe and puffing on a Marlboro.

That's when it dawned on me that it was the day after Thanksgiving, and all the people on the road could be easily divided into two groups -- the unfortunate saps such as myself who don't have real jobs in which they get the day after Thanksgiving off, and crazy people who like the masochistic ritual known as shopping. On the day after Thanksgiving, those are the only two groups of people on the road.

It was great. On my normal five-minute drive to the office, I got to sit in traffic and listen to the radio for a half hour. Figuring I sat around and watched about 25 hours of football on Thanksgiving, I gave up on my normal sports radio and started going up the dial, only to find Christmas carols. I know today is already Dec. 1, but the first Christmas carol always weirds me out a little.

It's like it shouldn't be happening, but it is, and then you realize Christmas is only like 20 days away and you don't have a single thing bought, and then you start having an anxiety attack, all because Bing Crosby came across the radio signing "White Christmas" when its raining and 50 degrees outside. "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Break-Up" would be more appropriate.

With bumper-to-bumper traffic around Wal-Mart at 6 a.m., I took what I saw and hummed it to a familiar Christmas tune.

"Four middle fingers flying, three horns a-honking, two fender benders and an angry commuter in a Dodge Dakota."

Isn't Christmas shopping grand?

I'm not much of a shopper, I'll admit. I can't stand to be in a mall for more than seven minutes, but my patience is much longer when sitting in front of the television for a useless holiday college football bowl game. I love shopping for my brother-in-law, though, because it usually involves me going into the fly shop for a gift certificate and walking out with his gift certificate and something like a pontoon boat for myself.

I can't get those same results buying my wife perfume or knick-knacks. Maybe when the stores that sell her stuff also start carrying Egg-Sucking Leeches, Bunny Zonkers and other flies, I'll enjoy shopping more. But would you really buy perfume from the Egg-Sucking Leech store? "That fresh smell of a fresh-caught rainbow trout," the packages would read. "Drive your man wild with the new scent of fly floatant perfume. Only for women."

This holiday season you can find me shopping in the computer room at my house. I'll pay ridiculous shipping charges for the convenience of shopping online and avoiding the malls.

More than once I'll have to explain to some gal on the other end of the phone line that AK stands for Alaska, not Arkansas; no, we really don't have any snow yet; no, I don't live in an igloo; and yes, it probably is colder where you are because it's like 50 degrees here. Those questions tick me off, but it's a small price to pay to avoid the crazed shoppers.

Through all of the shopping and the franticness of the holidays, the true meaning gets lost often. This year, take a minute to remember the true meaning of Christmas, and enjoy the time you have with your friends and family during the holiday season. It's time together, not the presents, that make the season.

Casey Ressler (valleylife@frontiersman.com) is the Valley Life editor. He is still astonished that Santa drives a new Camaro.