Dan’s Papers December 17, 2010 danshamptons.com Page 42
Being Santa
(continued from page 32)
minal there. “I took a taxi in,� I said. “You?� “Came here by Jeep.� “That’s a long, difficult drive,� I said. She looked at me funny. “From the pole,� I said. “Oh,� she said. “At least you had a Jeep.� There were two really amazing things about being adored from afar by children and their doting parents standing alongside of the road. One was that I now know what it feels like to be a movie star. The other was the wide variety of reactions exhibited by these children seeing Santa Claus, right there in his remarkable regalia, in the flesh. It was TRUE! They’d put their hands over their eyes and run and hide behind their mothers—this can’t be happening fashion. They’d stare at me in wonder. They’d stare enthusiastically at me and jump up and down calling my name and waving. They’d be overcome with emotion and hide behind their mother out of embarrassment. They hadn’t the slightest idea what the hell they were looking at. They’d try to run out into the street to climb the sleigh and embrace me—it’s him, it’s true! It’s true!—and had to be pulled back and restrained. They’d smile shyly and flirt—always a little girl doing this. I gave them all the same treatment: “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas, hi there, ho, ho, ho.� And
then I’d try not to fall down, or I’d try to rub the fake snow off my glasses so I could continue to see who the hell I was waving at. We arrived at the end of Newtown Lane where it meets the railroad crossing and there the matter ended. I had been told to hop down and walk to Bucket’s Deli, which is right there, and wait for a police truck to come and take me back downtown. But when I hopped down, I was swarmed by Santa groupies of all ages wanting to shake my hand. After awhile, finally, I was rescued, plucked sort of, out of this melee up into the cab of this big police truck. The officer looked familiar. “You look familiar,� I said. “I went to high school with your son David,� the officer said. “Graduated the same year.� “Name?� “Matthew Kochanasez.� “I’ll give him your regards,� I said. Then I thought, how did he know who I was? Oh well. I spent the next hour sitting on a bench in the lobby of the East Hampton Cinema holding court for parents bringing their children over to sit by me before going in to watch a Christmas movie. The parents had to haul the kids over if they were shy, or they’d have to restrain them from racing over. They’d do all of the things that I had seen out there on the street. There was no telling who would do what—flirt, hide, puff out their chests proudly, stare at me in awe, give me a big hug and tell me they loved me, become immediately terrified by me. It’s all genetic is what it is.
“I love you too. Now be good. I’ll be back Christmas night. What do you want again?� “A bicycle.� “A race track.� “A game for my Xbox.� “A skateboard.� “A dollhouse.� I had a stack of coloring books to hand out. “Take this gift. It’s from the North Pole. But I’ve let it warm up here in the theatre. It’s a coloring book.� “Say thank you,� the parent would say, looking out from in back of a camera. “Now smile, both of you.� At noon, my wife, my real wife, and I walked along the sidewalk back down Main Street toward the church where we had parked the car three blocks away. As we walked along, two teenagers, a boy and a girl, talking to one another, came toward us. Suddenly, the girl held out her arms and ran right into me to give me a big hug. I hugged her back. Then she walked on. “I told you,� she said to her boyfriend, “that before this day was out I was going to hug Santa Claus.� When we climbed into the car, I took off my beard, wig and hat and tossed them into the back seat. From here on I’d be in disguise, as myself. We went home. I built a fire in the living room, lay down on the sofa still in my Santa suit and slept for an hour. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.
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