Not Quite the Gift of the Magi, but still…

It was not so much the pandemic as sheer exhaustion that led me to opt out of driving upstate to spend Christmas with my family, as I had every single year of my life. It’s a tradition I love, but this year… I mean for crying out loud. This year. Like pretty much everyone else, I’m just really exhausted. Tired of the pandemic, tired of Trump, tired of anti-vaxxers and truth-deniers, tired of the ever-changing restaurant rules (I’m a bartender in NYC, don’t get me started) tired of trying to make the best of things, tired of things STILL not tasting and smelling quite as they should, even 8 months after having Covid-19 back in March. Tired of the despair. Just…tired. This Christmas, I decided to stay home with my dog.

While wallowing at work last Sunday, I made an effort to pull myself together and, in spite of it all, decided I should get myself a tree. I live in a small studio apartment in Manhattan and since I always spent Christmas upstate, I just never bothered.

But this year was different, and a friend had even given me a Ruth Bader Ginsberg ornament. Taking that as a sign, I ducked out of work, leaving the other bartender to hold down the fort, and by that I mean the takeout window. “Take your time,” Ryan called out glumly, surveying the Cuomo-ordered empty restaurant, “I think I can manage.” I strolled to the corner of 18th Street and Seventh Ave, where a guy was selling Christmas trees. My glance fell on a sweet little tree about three feet tall, leaning against a red brick building. (Sidebar: Anyone remember the book “Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree?)

“How much for that little one?” I asked the tree guy. He glanced over and said, “That one’s $80.”

Gulp. Good Lord, was he kidding?! I glanced up hopefully — nope. I sighed, thinking that this was just the covidiest Christmas ever.

As I turned to go, the tree guy peered at me and said, “Hang on a minute — don’t you work at McManus, that bar on the corner?” I nodded. “You guys are great,” he said, “you always let me use the bathroom — you have no idea what that means to me.” Warming to his story, he went on “This is my first year selling trees, and I worried about how long I could go without peeing. I’m not kidding, it really worried me. You guys saved me, and it would be my great pleasure to give you this tree as a gesture of my thanks.” Tears welling up, I thanked him and told him this was my first, very own tree.

A free tree for a pee!

Merry Christmas, everyone. And by the way — that tree is staying up till the inauguration.