Hot and Sweaty Santa

Last Sunday I played Santa for a friend’s company’s Christmas party.

What qualifies me to play Santa, you ask. Well, I have a little round belly, that shakes, when I laugh like a bowlful of jelly. It also shakes when I run or do jumping jacks but that part of the poem got cut.

Last Sunday, as you may remember, was the worst storm in Toronto in over 40 years. The driving was absolutely terrible but I had a duty to these children and I wasn’t about to let them down; also, the party was held at the Sheraton which has an excellent all you can eat brunch.

After having my fill of eggs benedict and bacon I was asked to get ready. I grabbed the costume and went to the washroom to change. I change in a stall because I don’t want a kid coming in and seeing Santa wearing nothing but red pants and a t-shirt that says “NO FAT CHICKS”, it may ruin the illusion.

Changing in a stall is not the best of conditions. Next year I’m demanding a 10’ X 10’ change room, a bottle of Absolut Vodka and unlimited access to the over-18 Naughty Girls list as part of my rider. This costume is the most complicated thing I’ve ever worn. First, everything is safety pinned together. The beard is safety pinned to the hair which is safety pinned to the hat. The gloves are safety pinned, the pant legs are safety pinned.

I put the pants on first, followed by the suspenders, the jacket, the belt and then the mock boots. These are a pair of pleather leggings. I’m not sure that’s even a real material. They may be melted down vinyl copies of The Greatest Hit of Paco for all I know. They are tight and cut off circulation below my knee. They’re not complete boots; they’re supposed to go on over your shoes and make it look like your shoes are part of the boot. The effect is not seamless. I then put the beard, hair and hat on and begin sweating profusely. Santa may be able to handle all that gear at the North Pole but in a toasty hotel lobby it’s a bit much.

I’ve either gained a lot of weight since last year or Santa’s been working out and had his suit taken in a bit. Every time I moved a little fast or bent a little far I felt a button pop. I was worried that when I sat down my pants would rip and my jingle balls would be on display for the kids to see. At that point having them sit on my lap could get me arrested. Thankfully, this did not happen and I got through the event without exposing myself.

There were two kids who were absolutely terrified of me. One was Rooster, my pseudo-niece who is just barely getting used to me when I don’t look like I just climbed down from the mountains to eat road kill and leer at purty women-folk. Snake, my other pseudo-niece had strong suspicions that her fat cranky uncle was playing Santa. She wasn’t entirely sure though and rather than risking offending the real Santa she played it cool and made subtle inquiries as to the type of shoes I wore and where I was at that exact moment. I think we would have been able to fool her but the results from the DNA test and retinal scan come in next week. Maybe the lab will make a mistake.