So it begins. The Christmas season is upon us. Yes, like a plague. I love the holiday, but I am not a big fan of the hustle and bustle that goes into it. The yelling, the screaming and the crying, and that’s just me.
It reminds me of a traumatizing tale from Christmas past.
I call it “The HoneyBaked Ham Incident.”
Once upon a time on a wintry Christmas Eve, I was charged with one final task for Christmas: Pick up a ham at a store that sells – wait for it – just hams. I’m a vegetarian, but I’m a good sport.
I got in the car and set out for the exclusive purveyor of popular pig products. In retrospect, I’ll never go back. Ever. It was my 'Nam.
When I drove down the street to the store, I could see the line around the building as I got closer.
I pulled into the lot and circled around like a vulture waiting for easy prey. Finally, someone pulled out and I pulled in. I arrived at the spot a millisecond ahead of some other dude who wanted the space. This is where it gets hairy.
The Other Dude claimed he staked out the spot before me, but I pulled in. I didn’t even see him, and as many times as I circled the lot, I find his “I was here first” story hard to swallow. I got out of the car and he parked his car directly behind mine. He jumped out of the car and started shouting.
He said, “Pull out and let me in. That is my spot!” I sort of laughed because I didn’t think he was serious. My attitude exacerbated the situation.
I could see the little vein on his forehead throb. His wife tried to calm him down. He kept shouting. He wanted to fight me.
Everyone was watching us. We were providing some entertainment for the bored men and women stuck in line. He was a rage-fueled lunatic, kind of like the Hulk but less green.
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Mike Buzzelli is a stand up comedian and a sit down author. His book, "Below Average Genius," a collection of humor columns culled from the Observer-Reporter, can be purchased here!