santas on the subway

SantasSubway1

Last year, around Christmas time, three Santa Clauses – two tall ones, and a short, fat, jolly one – followed me onto the subway.  I didn’t think they were following me, per se.  But still, there they were.  It was rush hour and the subway car was packed.  Not sardines packed, but full.  And I pressed myself up against the back wall, which is where I stand when I’m standing in a subway car.  And the Santas were nearby, huddled together.  One of the tall ones had an mp3 player turned up way too loud.  The other ate a sandwich from a bag.

And after a minute I noticed that all three seemed to be staring at me and nodding and whispering.  And I thought, nah, they’re not looking at me.  But they were.  And then everyone in the car was staring at them staring at me, some smirking.  And I was creeped out and pissed.  And then one of the Santas – the short, fat jolly one – lifted his hand and pointed a finger at my crotch.

And I looked down…and saw my fly was open.

So, I turned to the back wall, nonchalantly, and zipped up.  When I turned back, the short Santa nodded and smiled: good job.  The mp3 Santa gave me a thumbs up.

And I said the only thing you really could say at that point:

Merry Christmas!

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