Ho ho ho
I almost put this under the travels category, though I didn't go any more than 2 miles away from my apartment. Christmas Eve is a magical time for all boys and girls, and none more than the ones who aren't headed home to spend the next few days making small talk and avoiding their families. My own previous experiences with Christmas are predictably non-standard, mostly consisting of Charlie Brown television specials and wondering why christian kids got all the fun holidays. There's, of course, also the version of Christmas that one sees in the movies, which is the other source of my Christmas savvy.
My first tableau of xmas-ness was when I set out from my house before dusk to the video store for movies. With everyone out of town I was preparing for a night to myself. Conventional wisdom says that the video store will be deserted except for the miserable clerk, one fat loser, and a smoking hot newcomer to the area who will strike up a quirky, yet engaging conversation. Instead it was full to the gills with people like myself who were opting out of the Christmas goose and Tiny Tim's annoying axioms for a copy of Beerfest and some gummi worms.
I was only able to see one of the movies I rented before getting called by one of my colleagues for my second holiday setpeice. Having found something to do I agreed to meet him at one of the local bars. It's one I'd never been in and it was actually quite pleasant. A DJ was spinning at the back of the room with March of the Penguins inexplicably projected on a screen behind him. The only problem was that one of his friends was taking it upon himself to "spit rhymes' (and I do use that term loosely) in the background. At first it wasn't so bad, but over time his lack of any sort of lyrical style began to get to me. The sparseness of the crowd, the spareness of the lyrics and I was ready to leave.
We made our way to the Mission where we wandered deserted streets to find an interesting spot - heck, just an open spot! - to sit down and have a few drinks. Sunday and Christmas Eve made that particular goal quite elusive and when we finally found a place we were surrounded by all the other folks who had opted out. My compatriots in non-Christmas cheer were depressing. I was sitting at a table with a drunk woman, dressed in an extremely tawdry (yet thankfully not Christmas themed) outfit, telling me how much she LOVED India. That was my cue to leave, which I did almost immediatley afterwards, stopping only to collect my buddies.
The bizarreness of the evening was compounded by the strangely Cockney cab driver who ended up driving us home. Ho ho home, Jeeves.