I was driving my kids and family to take a Polar Express-themed train ride. We were all dressed in pajamas, including my six-foot-three father – because that’s what you do for the Polar Express. You wear pajamas.
I was worried we would be late and, apparently, I was burning a bit of rubber. About 20 miles from our destination, we got pulled over. The officer saw us all in pajamas, laughed, gave me a warning, and told me to slow down.
Three hours later, we were ending the train ride and Santa appeared and took the time to talk to all the kids.
He got to me and asked what I wanted for Christmas to which I respond “A Browns Super Bowl.” Santa informed me that he doesn’t work those kind of miracles and then handed me a bell. As I grasped the bell, he refused to let go of it, looks me in the eye and says, “Alvin,” (that’s my first name) “you have precious cargo. Slow down and Merry Christmas.” He walked on to talk to other kids while I was frozen like a statue.
And, no, before you ask – the cop was not Santa.
Summary: Santa is real, he sees when you are speeding and knows when you’re awake, he knows which teams are bad and good, but can’t make the Browns good for goodness sake.
A version of this first appeared on Tales from the Poop Deck.
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