At the tree lighting ceremony, as my family and I stood in the crowd, the town mayor took the podium. She waved to the crowd, or at least, I think she did. Because at this year’s celebration, the people that built the stage decided to put it in a depression and all we could see was the top of her head.
What was she waiting for? This is the Christmas tree lighting ceremony. Thank a couple of people, push the big red button, and then let dark come alive. Then I saw what she was waiting for.
The giant train that runs right through the middle of the ceremony.
It may seem like a bad design to put a 75-foot Christmas tree next to train tracks. And it is. It’s a terrible design. What makes it worse is the five hundred people that now split into two groups. Who the hell thought this was a good idea?
But mayor’s speeches wait for no one. So as the train horn blared loud enough to act as an alarm clock for the astronauts on the ISS, the mayor began to talk. I can only relate to what she probably said, because of the train and the fact that I’m pretty sure the mic was turned off anyway.
“Welcome neighbors, family, and rubes that voted for me. I am your mayor. From this point out, please call me Your Honor. I shall start with a joke. A train cuts through a crowd of people and says, ‘I’m headed to splitsville, anyone want a ride?’”
No one laughed.
“Hello, is this thing on?”
The train’s whistle blew yet again, which was the signal for the Mayor to continue to talk.
“Did you know that you can spend a ton of money on road repairs, and if those road repairs are actually my driveway, it’s totally cool?” the Mayor probably said. “And while I’m talking here, I would like to fire my intern, Clara. No hard feelings, Clara, I just don’t like you. Now please, everyone applaud.”
The Mayor applauded herself and the crowd joined.
“Dad why are we clapping?” my daughter asked.
“I have no idea. Just go with it. She probably said something very nice.”
The longest train in the history of trains continued to rumble by no more than 40 feet where the crowd stood. I can only imagine that the poor people caught on the other side have formed a new community with a new mayor that was speaking. The horn went off again.
“And while I’m on the subject of personal, I’m hiring my cat to oversee the new bond issue that we’re going to sneak in some time in an off-election year. That way, none of you will show up. But it’s for a good reason! We are putting in a pool. And by we, I mean you. And by you, I mean at my house. More applause please as I do a big sweeping gesture across the crowd to make you feel important and included.”
At this point, as trainloads of coal roared by, the mayor made a sweeping gesture.
“Thank you. I deserve it all. Now, please welcome this children’s choir that I had flown in from Geneva.”
At that point, the mayor stepped away from the podium and started swaying back and forth. No one was sure what was going on, other than we were probably sure the train was on time. But then I saw a little blond girl’s head, complete with a Christmas bow, bob up and down. I checked my program and discovered the choir listed there.
“They’re singing,” I told my family.
“Singing what? Who’s singing?” my wife asked.
“I think kids?”
And so, a group of kids from a prestigious school accompanied the train’s song. I imagine they sang about the mountains in Austria as they were running from the Nazis. I’m sure it was very moving and if we could have heard it, we would have cried.
Finally, the choir ended. And at that exact time, so did the train. On reflex, we clapped although I’m not sure if it was for Edelweiss or the magnificent train performance.
We hugged each other. The people on the other side of the train began to cross like the Berlin wall had just come down. Families were reunited and the spirit of Christmas was in the air! Oh, glorious day!
Thank you, mayor, for sticking by your schedule and speaking when you should have just waited for the train to pass!
Moments grew and we all came closer to the stage that was probably just put up on cinderblocks. I asked a 6-foot-tall guy in front of me what was going on. He took a sip of his chocolate and said, “I think she’s about to talk again.”
“Cool,” I said.
The Mayor waited. And she waited. And she waited.
What was she waiting for?
Why, the second train! It was a Christmas Miracle! The first train was just for cargo. This was a passenger train that only comes once a day and its schedule has been known for years. Seriously, for years. It ALWAYS comes at this exact time.
And then the Mayor spoke. Probably. I was too busy clapping my hands because I couldn’t have written a better script for this. As a humor writer, I was in awe of the irony of the world.
Right as the train again blew its horn the lights on the tree blazed through the night sky. My family, confused but laughing like hyenas, paid our respects to the mighty fern and then went home for hot cocoa.
There is magic in the air during the holidays. And sometimes that magic looks like a couple of trains, a bad stage, and a mayor who has a schedule to keep.
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