What In Santa Hill?

SANTA MOB DESIGNATES LOCAL BIKER TO NAUGHTY LIST

I'm no Paul Harvey, but here's The Rest Of The Story....

It was a perfectly de-lovely winter's day despite the occasional 'fill in the blank' driver and malnourished Jack Frost noshing on my toes.

The air was crisp. Holiday shoppers milling about. Tourists taking in the Blue Spruce. There was even the sparse snow flake drifting by my nose. I love a good December spin night or day.

As I approached the Washington Monument I found a peculiar sight. Red, red, red. Everywhere I Iooked I saw red. Not in an angry-road-rage kind of way, but in a rosy-cheeked-bowl-full-of-jelly kind of way.

Jiminy Christmas Batman! That's a lot of Santas! Musta been a hundred of 'em. I approached cautiously. There's nothing worse than a scary clown, except maybe an angry Santa. And every DC local knows when a group of people gather on the Mall a protest is sure to break out.

But something seemed askew with this mob. I mean despite the red suits and floppy hats. That's it! Not a single sign. Not a single chant. No wait....what are they saying....Silent who?....Christmas what? Are they caroling?!?!

The Pack-o-Santas began to disperse, or rather swarm. They were marching on...to, of course, the White House. Ah, right, here is where the protest will get ugly. I am wise to your black trash bags ways, slung across your backs just so. Wink, wink. Sack of tricks I bet. Your placards slyly hidden from Park Police.

The Santa Jam politely waited for the walk signal and purposely used the cross walk to traverse Constitution Ave. Huh? One Santa standing in front holding up traffic amongst the shouting and honking. Everyone LOVED the traveling Santas. They were honking in support. DC traffic, happy? Everywhere you looked, everyone supported this ONE cause. The Santa Cause. Jesus Christmas! A Christmas Miracle, Washington style.

Armed with a camera I snapped some photos. I crossed to the Ellipse and watched them go. Upon checking my watch I noticed time was running out; I needed to get to work. I crossed in front of them, there on the wide sidewalk. Me in my helmet, they in their hats.

That is when it happened. That is when my name was displaced. In an instant I went to naughty from nice. Or was it them?

It was a Santarchy. I read the rules. Santa Claus is friendly, respectful, and cooperative. By definition even, Santarchists should disown Government regulations. But not these felted fellas.

"Bikes belong on the street!" I heard it plain as the nose on Rudolph's tiny reindeer face. Well that's not very friendly. I simply waved and thought to myself, "and Santas belong on the North Pole, but you don't see me whining about it"

Welcome to DC, HO.