I just returned home for Christmas. The trip was uneventful. By which I mean, my wife and I were stuck in O’Hare airport for six hours in the middle of the night, and there was nothing to do.
We did have a chance to listen to our eight favorite Christmas songs on a loop. Man, when you actually listen to those lyrics, you start to realize how strange some of those songs are. Take “Winter Wonderland“:
Later on, we’ll conspire,
As we dream by the fire.
“We’ll conspire?” Is this some kind of supervillain Christmas?
And then there’s “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year“:
There’ll be parties for hosting,
Marshmallows for toasting
And caroling out in the snow.
There’ll be scary ghost stories
And tales of the…
Whoa, there. Back up that one horse open sleigh, buddy. “Scary ghost stories?” I think somebody has some issues with Christmas.
The repetitive music wouldn’t be so horrible, if there was something to do. All of the stores closed by eleven, even the restaurants. There were literally hundreds of people shuffling around the terminal, and not one of them could find a midnight snack. Plus, we weren’t allowed to leave, because even the TSA had closed up shop, and wouldn’t be opening security until 4:00AM.
When I get some money, I’m gonna buy me one of those stalls. I’ll keep it open 24 hours, and I’ll charge $12.50 for a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Twelve fifty for a grilled cheese sandwich?! How do you sleep at night?”
“On a bed made of money, with golden pillows, and sheets woven from the dreams of starving orphans.”
Then, I will truly be a Republican.