Part One – The Man Arrives: Intrepid Reporter Attempts, Fails To Get Sit-Down With Santa
(I recently wrote a story about trying to get a “sit-down” with The Man for my newspaper – The Newnan Times-Herald. Here’s what happened:)
Thinking back, it’s been years since my last sit-down with The Man. Decades really.
I was looking forward to this interview. A chance to reminisce and maybe, just maybe, the opportunity would arise to slip him that note in my pocket.
So Friday night I left the newspaper building and rounded the corner toward the downtown square.
Whoa.
The only way to describe the scene would be to say a couple of elementary schools decided to have an open house at the old Coweta County Courthouse. And parents and grandparents and the second cousin twice removed were all invited.
And they all showed up, including that cousin.
The line stretched half-way around the courthouse. It was obvious some had done this before — lawn chairs were out, pizza boxes were plentiful.
And I realized I wasn’t the only one wanting a sit-down with The Man.
And I also realized my chances of getting that sit-down were approaching slim and none.
That’s because there are certain rules regarding sit-downs, the primary one being one does not jump in line, regardless of who you think you are.
Crossing a 5-year-old when it comes to The Man is done at one’s peril. I can assure you they don’t care what your editor said about getting that interview. And we don’t even need to mention the parents.
Right at 6 p.m., the siren sounded. An old fire truck made its way around the square, stopping in front of a huge Christmas tree.
And out stepped The Man.
Four-year-old Mila Krumins violated protocol — she ran across the street and gave The Man a big hug. Being somewhat shorter than The Man, Mila’s hug landed somewhere about mid-thigh.
She whispered something about an Ariel movie.
And everyone began pointing at The Man as the cameras and video recorders and smartphones started going off. And everyone said the same thing …
“Santa.”
It’s viagra samples online made from natural herbs with no side effect. The absorption of tadalafil does not require adherence to food during the reception, as it is 5mg generic cialis completely independent and does not interfere with the digestive system. This entire cialis cipla calculation results in a ratio which is known for reflecting the distribution of body weight on a particular person. A lot of men in this age group complain that they feel stiffness on the implanted joint, while others feel frustrated as it female viagra buy did not help them regain absolute mobility. And The Man, complete with his red outfit and long white beard, sat in his sleigh. And the sit-downs began.
First up was 3-year-old Michael Howard, who along with his mom, Whitney, and grandmother, Candy Bishop, had camped out since 3:30 p.m.
Some people take these sit-downs seriously.
“We just wanted to be in the newspaper,” Bishop joked.
Done.
Michael was interested in various toys from the movie “Cars” — Lightning McQueen and Tow Mater were mentioned more than once; you know, just to make sure Santa got it all down correctly.
And then there was Martha West, a spry 78. And no, that’s not a typo.
Which just goes to show you there are two ages — the one on your birth certificate and the one you have during a sit-down with Santa.
Martha had it figured out.
There are basically two types when it comes to Santa. First are the ones who are all smiles and very polite as they hand Santa their list, and are perfect angels when it comes time for mom and dad to take that darling picture that’s going to be the annual Christmas card.
And then there’s the second group. The ones that, to use a completely unscientific term, freak out.
There were a couple of that latter group. And I recalled it probably took me a couple of tries to get out of the whole freak-out thing when I was a child.
I looked back over my notes and started to put my notebook in my pocket. It jammed and I reached in and pulled out that piece of paper.
I didn’t get that sit-down that night. I didn’t get the interview. And I still had my note.
And I thought about seeing if one of the kids in line might help me out, you know, just pass it along. I wasn’t really sure what the going bribe rate was, factoring in inflation and all that.
But I decided against it. I put my note back in my pocket.
There’s always the Post Office.
(In Part Two, I finally get that sit-down.)
Related Posts
Tags
Share This
