If you are reading this, you have undoubtedly begged me to refrain- to move off of Santa’s designated present-delivery pathway. To this I say, I was there first, and since when does simply grabbing the mail in the hopes of perusing a few belated holiday cards on Christmas Eve mean I deserve to be cruelly run down by Santa’s holiday steeds?
Who is this Santa the world claims to love- do they even know him? Would a generous benefactor be capable of countless callous annual hit and runs?
I suppose you never know anyone.
For too long, the man in red and his band of sleigh-pullers has haunted my Christmas Seasons. Too many times have I lain there, alone in the snow unable to move, looking up at a frosty sky, pleading the word “why” like a prayer to no one.
And so, I fly onward, never minding the numerous connections it shall take me to achieve access to the world’s northern most point.
As I rack up status memberships with multiple airlines, the ability to upgrade with ease does little to assuage my search for New Year’s retribution.