The day began like every other. I grabbed my gym bag and jumped in the van. It wouldn’t start. We’d been having trouble with it all week, needing to boost it several times. My friend came over. My husband hooked up the cables and gave it one final boost. My plan was to drive it to the garage, which was closed on Sunday, but would leave it there so they could work on it first thing in the morning. My friend said she’d follow me and give me a ride home. I made my way to the other end of the city keeping one foot on the brake and one on the gas whenever I had to slow down. As I approached a busy intersection just two blocks from the garage, the light turned yellow. Reluctantly I slowed down and for an instant took my foot off the gas. The van died right at the intersection.

Great.

I pulled out my CAA card. I’d call for a tow. I realized I didn’t have my cell with me, but it didn’t matter as I noticed my CAA card had expired anyways.

My friend appeared at the passenger window. I asked her to call my husband and get him to call for a tow using his CAA membership.  She called. No answer. I knew he was busy working on a home reno and probably had his music blaring. She was going to have to go get him.

She had no sooner left when a police officer tapped on my window. She asked if I needed her to call for a tow.

“No. My husband’s called for one and is on his way,” I lied.

“It’s just the Santa Claus parade will be starting soon and traffic’s going to get crazy,” she replied, seeming a little concerned.

Santa Claus parade?  I looked around and noticed people were starting to line the streets carrying lawn chairs and kids bundled in snowsuits.

Great. Could I have picked a better place to break down?

The police officer returned to wait in her cruiser directly behind me. She put her flashers on so people would notice the lane was not moving.

They noticed all right, flashing red lights are hard to miss. I waited in my van, occasionally glancing at cars stopping next to me. People stared at me with that, ‘What did you do?’ expression on their face.

I tried to ignore them and shrunk down in my seat. I focused my attention on some kids securing their place to watch the parade.  They were so excited. It reminded me of when I was their age, and took part in the Santa Claus parade.

When I was five, I was a majorette. You know, the little baton twirling kids you see marching in parades. I’d march and twirl in the Canada Day and Fall Fair parades wearing a shimmery red sequined top and mini skirt with matching hat, knee socks and white go-go boots with a big tassel on the front. Months later I’d march in the Santa Claus parade wearing much the same outfit only in –10 degree weather. My red sequined hat was replaced with a white fur ball that sat on top of my head, doing nothing to cover my ears. Knee socks were replaced with nylons and a white turtleneck was added under my red top. I was practically frozen before the parade even got started, yet I’d smile big, marching and twirling for blocks as my baton teacher ran along beside dressed in mukluks, earmuffs, and a parka, yelling ‘Smile! Lift those legs! Higher! Higher!”

Did no one see what was wrong with this picture? Mom? My blue lips and quivering jaw didn’t give it away? I always wondered why we never saw a headline that read, ‘Tragedy at Santa Claus Parade, Majorette Succumbs to Hypothermia.’

Many years later I got to experience the thrill of being in a Santa Claus parade once again. We had just got married and had moved to a new town. Steph, my aerobics instructor invited me to join some others to be a clown in the parade and distribute candy to the kids. I jumped at the chance! Sounded like a good way to meet people and get into the Christmas spirit!

The day of the parade Steph greeted me, pointed me in the direction of the costumes then disappeared. Women were going through the costumes like a flashing red light sale at the department store, wigs were flying, arms were flailing. They were literally fighting over the costumes. I stood back and waited for whatever was left. I came out looking like a half clown, half elf with wild curly hair, big ears, and big pointy shoes that curled up on the end. The day was not going as I had imagined, but it was going to be fun. I was going to make it fun. We were each handed a bag of candy as the parade began.

Almost immediately I heard little voices yelling, “Over here!  Over here!” I knew that next to Santa, the highlight of the parade was seeing how much candy you could collect. I remembered it well. I was always tall for my age and grew accustomed to seeing clowns pass by in order to give candy to the littler kids. Well, not in my parade. I made a beeline for the taller kids I knew the other clowns would miss. It was wonderful to see their smiling faces. I was having a great time, until I ran out of candy at the end of the second block.

I hobbled over in my curled up shoes to another clown and asked if she could spare a little candy. She reluctantly reached in her bag and dropped some into my bag. I was back in business. A block later I was out again. I caught the eye of the clown who had shared her candy and she glared at me as if to say, “Not a chance.” I hobbled over to another clown but this time got nothing. She snapped at me and said, “You weren’t supposed to distribute it all at once. I don’t have enough to share.” I tried another clown, same reaction. I think the word had spread. I finished the last eight blocks of the parade with nothing to hand out.

I learned quickly, kids have no interest in a clown-elf no matter how funny your knock- knock jokes or pull my finger tricks might be.  All they want is candy. I also realized why no one else grabbed the pointy shoes that curled up on the ends. By the end of the parade my feet were killing me.

I changed out of my costume and was heading out when I overheard two clowns talking about the clown-elf who ran out of candy at the start of the parade. Nothing like a couple of catty clowns to dampen your love of the Santa Claus parade.

A horn honked. I looked in the rearview to see traffic building behind me. The parade would be starting soon and floats were starting to make their way by to get lined up for the parade.

One stopped next to me and I smiled up at the sweet little faces of the children all bundled up. I did a double take as I caught a little boy giving me the finger. What was that all about?

A few other floats passed by and then another stopped at the red light. Some of the children were playing musical instruments. I lowered my window a little to listen when I heard a voice yell, “What the #$@@ did you stop there for?”

I opened my mouth in disbelief as another little boy yelled, “Yeah, what the #$@@ did ya do? Are you going to jail?”

Stunned and exasperated, I’d just about had it. Just as I was about to yell, “Watch your mouths you little brats, you’re on a #$@@ Christmas float,” my husband tapped on my window, the police officer standing beside him.

He hadn’t called a tow truck, saying it would be quicker to boost the van.

“But how are we going to get a car facing the other way in the middle of the intersection?” I asked. “The parade is about to start.”

“Like this,” the police officer jumped into action. She went to the intersection and stopped traffic in every direction. Suddenly like Clint Eastwood on a horse in a Western movie, my friend appeared out of no where driving the wrong direction down the middle of the street, pulling up to face my van. All eyes were on us as my husband hooked up the cables to her car and the van. Everyone waited in silence. I turned the key and the engine started. People around us cheered.

I wanted to yell, “Get a life,” but in keeping with the Christmas spirit, I decided instead to give the Queen’s wave as I made my way down the street.

I parked the van in the garage lot, and got in my friend’s car.

“So do we want to go back and catch the parade since we’re already down here?” she asked.

I looked at her like she was from another planet.

“Nooooooo, not today thanks.  I’ve seen just about all the floats I need to for one day,” I replied sarcastically. “And besides, once you’ve seen the darker side of Santa Claus parades, there is no going back.”

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