Santa's Boy Toy: A Christmas Story

I'm looking for something to do the week before Christmas when, in an uncharacteristic fit of altruism, I decide to volunteer for the holidays. I haven't done much volunteering, actually zero, but I figure what the hell, it's not like I have anything pressing on my schedule. Come to think of it, I don't even have a schedule.
I'm browsing through some of the online ads and find out that the AIDS Emergency Fund needs help with their annual Christmas eve dinner for AIDS victims and their families. It sounds like a rewarding experience, or at least sounds like it doesn't suck too badly. Besides, it gives me an excuse to wear my Santa hat.
On Christmas eve morning, I arrive at the War Memorial building across the street from city hall on about an hour before they're scheduled to start serving food. All the volunteers are corralled into one room, awaiting instructions from the event organizers. I'm a bit early, so I manage to avoid the free-for-all at the bagel and coffee table. Even at a charity event, the melee that ensues at the free snack table when most of the volunteers arrive is shameful.
A couple of the coordinators walk in and give us a briefing on what's going to happen, how many people are expected to show, and what kind of duties are available for us volunteers. The dinner is in its 17th year, and they are expecting between 1000-1200 people for this year's event. Most of the duties involve food and drink serving, coat check, and cleanup. The coordinators then proceed to pick people at random and lead them out of the room to their stations.
A handful of us are left, waiting for our assignments. One of the coordinators comes back into the room, glances around, walks up to me and asks, "Do you want to work at the North Pole?"
"Sure."
I follow him out of the room, around a couple of corners and over to a display with a large Christmas tree, some stuffed animals, and a cloth-covered chair.
"This is the North Pole. People are going to be coming here to get their pictures taken with Santa. Tony will tell you what to do. "
Tony, a short Asian guy who's in his seventh year volunteering for the event, is in charge of the Santa operation. My job is to keep people in line, ask the kids their ages so we can get them an appropriate gift, and take pictures if the photographer goes on break. I'm the line elf.
This is way better than shoveling mashed potatoes onto people's plates. I get to interact with people, give gifts to little kids, spread holiday cheer and whatever the hell else does not involve getting gravy stains on my shirt. I take off my sweater and don my Santa hat, ready for action.
As the first few people trickle into the North Pole, I start to get the hang of things. I keep an eye out for kids, and when I see one I say hello and ask them their age. I keep the line moving. I hold bags and purses while people sit on Santa's lap. I chat with the folks in line, trying to keep things light. It's turning out to be a lot of fun, and the kids seem to be really appreciative of the gifts.
I'm watching a couple of middle-aged guys getting their picture taken with Santa when one of them waves over to me and asks, "Can we take a picture with you?"
"Me? Sure, I guess." Why would anyone want me in their picture? I walk over and stand between them, and they huddle in toward me for the shot.
"Smile!"
They thank me, and I wish them a Merry Christmas as they walk away.
I continue doing my elf thing, greeting people, making small talk, things like that. There are two Santas, one an older man, and one a thin younger woman. They switch off every half hour or so, since it gets pretty hot in that Santa suit.
I'm absent-mindedly watching a couple of kids have their picture taken with the older Santa, when I hear a voice behind me say, "I want a picture with Santa's helper!"
Before I have a chance to register exactly what that means, there's an arm around my waist and another one around my chest. I'm being grappled from behind by an unknown assailant! Wait a minute. I think I'm being spooned! I look to my left just in time to be blinded by two camera
flashes.
Though a bit disoriented, I turn around in time to see a chubby, disheveled man in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt laughing and walking away. "Merry Christmas Santa's helper!"
Huh. That was weird. I look over at Tony and the photographer and they just smile. I get a few more picture requests here and there, some with families and some with just random people. I figure I must be doing a good job of entertaining the crowd if people want to remember me in their photographs.
I continue busily distributing gifts and managing the growing crowd.
The dinners are served by invitation every hour, so folks seem to be coming in waves. The routine seems to be that after they've eaten, they head straight for a picture with Santa. I've become the MC of the North Pole, chatting with people, cracking jokes, and trying to make sure that everyone's having a good time. I'm in some kind of elf groove.
After handing a couple of gifts to some kids who have just had their picture taken, I turn around and find myself confronted by a very tall, bald African-American fellow at the front of the line. He looks me up and down inquisitively.
"So. you're the sexy Santa's helper that everyone's been talking about?"
I look around to see if he's talking to somebody else. "Who? Me?"
"Yeah you. The security guys are all talking about you. Haven't you noticed how they keep coming by?"
"Uh. not really. I mean, they're security guys. I figured they were just, you know, securing things."
"Uh-huh."
Oh boy. Things are starting to make a little more sense. The pictures. The spooning. The security guys. The popularity. All of which would be great. if I was gay.
Now I'm not sure what to do. I'm wearing kind of a tight black t-shirt. Maybe I should put my sweater back on. Wait a second. be cool.
After all, it's no big deal, just a few pictures here and there. Still, I don't want to give the wrong impression. I mean, with women, even if they're ugly, you flirt with them when they're flirting with you. What do you do when guys are flirting with you? What exactly is the protocol? I don't want to be rude. Even worse, I don't want to be a cocktease. I can't believe I just thought that.
I'm working on my strategy when I see a familiar face walking toward me from the back of the line. This guy has taken his picture with Santa more than once, so I've had a couple of conversations with him as he's made his way up the line. He's heading straight toward me. He has two cards and a pen in his hand. Oh no.
"Hey, I thought we could exchange numbers."
I say the first thing that comes to mind. "What for?"
"So we can get together." He hands me one of the cards. It has his e-mail, his cell phone, and his home phone. I guess he's worried that I won't be able to get a hold of him in an emergency.
Oh shit. What do I do now? "Listen man. uh. I. uh. you know. I uh.
I like ladies."
His expression is unchanging. "Okay."
Okay? What does that mean? "Uh. I just wanted to make sure. uh. so you mean like get together for a beer or something?"
"Yeah!"
"Well, sure I guess." I take the other card and start writing my e-mail address. Wait a minute. do I want this guy having my e-mail? Shit, too late! I already started writing it. Okay, I'll change one letter, that way later I can always say that I made a mistake. Clever.
"Just your e-mail, no phone number?"
"Uh, I don't have a phone. I mean, I don't have a cell phone and I never pick up the house phone. E-mail is best. But not for another couple of weeks. I'm going to visit my family. They're down south." I gesture in a random direction which may or may not be south.
"Okay, well maybe I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah. See ya." Oh man. I just used the e-mail equivalent of the phony number routine on a dude. It's like I violated some guy code. I am a tease. I feel kind of dirty.
As the afternoon progresses, the Santa's helper picture requests become even more popular. I've never had so many guys wanting to sit on my lap. One time, during a group shot, the guy standing next to me has to lean in toward Santa to get into the picture, so he reaches back and grabs my ass "for stability." Another time, I'm kneeling next to Santa for a group picture when I hear someone standing in line shout, "I think Santa's helper should take his shirt off!"
Now I know what it's like to be a chick walking by a construction site. Granted, it's flattering. A bit awkward, but flattering.
I continue handing out gifts as people get their pictures taken with Santa.
I'm only supposed to give the gifts to kids, but we have a lot of them. I manage to sneak a little something to the ladies I've befriended that tell me they want something for their kids or grandkids. Yeah, maybe they're
making it up, but so what? It's the holidays. A few of the families come
through more than once to get their picture, and we let them have as many as they'd like.
After a while, one of the security guys comes up to me and says, "Dorothy wants to get her picture taken with the sexy elf. Is that okay?"
"Of course!" Dorothy? That sounds promising. At least it's a woman.
I sit down in Santa's chair, and as I look up I see the security guy coming toward me leading the way for the aforementioned Dorothy. She's been working in the kitchen, so she's wearing an apron to go with her decorative sweater and glasses. Dorothy is 82 years old.
"I get my picture taken at the North Pole every year, and this year I wanted it with the sexy elf!" I've become the Christmas poster boy for gay men and octogenarian women. I wonder if I could somehow work that into my resume.
As the dinner crowd starts to thin out, so does the activity at the North Pole. for everyone except Santa's helper. Toward the end of the day, one of the security guys comes up to me and tells me that I'm his Christmas present and he wants to take me home. Later, an African American guy wants to get a picture with me but says the lighting by the tree makes his skin look too dark. We end up going out in the hallway to take a picture, after which he gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Eh, what the hell. Merry Christmas.
You know what, though? I'm glad I did it. Everyone that came through the North Pole, for whatever reason, whether it was to get a picture with Santa, or for a gift, or even to get a picture with the elf, left with a smile on their face. There were families and individuals, young and old, people of all shapes, sizes and colors. I cracked a lot of jokes, took a lot of pictures, had a few laughs, and tried to make some sick people happy on Christmas eve. In the end, it wasn't altruism at all. I was completely self-centered. I did it because it felt good for me to do it. I'd gladly do it again. Next time, though, I'm going to grow a scruffy beard and wear an overcoat.