There's No Such Thing as Christmas Spirit in a Crowd

I went on Friday night--for the first time since moving to San Francisco--to see the lighting of the tree at Union Square. I don't know what I expected--people linked arm and arm, singing 'Home for the Holidays,' maybe, or a quiet, introspective night in which I clutch a hot cocoa and my camera and peacefully allow my internal holiday season to begin--but what I got instead was kicking, shoving, elbowing, and glaring masses, all determined to get as close as possible to the tree or trample you trying. I tripped over strollers, got pushed by cliques of be-make-upped teenagers, and smothered by more surly adults than I've ever seen accumulated in one place. It was like a moshpit, except more violent. These people were NOT happy to be here, they HATED Christmas, and all of them had forgotten to take their prozac. I knew within minutes that if I didn't get out immediately, I'd either kill or be killed. I began to desperately claw my way out of the crowd as the sense of entrapment increased. When I finally burst out the back, like so many feti from my friends' wombs, I felt a sense of rebirth, renewal, rejoicing. And I took comfort in the fact that I'd be back today to see the tree again, this time sans the crowd, con soy chai, and in the company of Deee and Brian. Two adults that are mentally-healthy, holiday-spirited, and inebriated enough that I always feel at home.

And THAT's how a holiday season begins.