On a visit back to Cape Town, Ally and I were invited to the annual Christmas party of the "Hardcore Hiking Group," a tribe of adventurers we’d belonged to for years. Usually, our friend James—a naturally funny guy—played the role of Santa. But this year, James couldn't make it. As the visiting guest, I was bestowed with the great privilege of the red suit.
I donned the beard, padded the stomach, and made my grand entrance. I decided to channel the boisterous, floor-shaking energy of my grandfather, but as I stepped into the room, something shifted. I let out a deep, booming, guttural roar that echoed off the walls:
"HO! HO! HO! WHO’S BEEN GOOD AND WHO’S BEEN BAD THIS YEAR?!"
It was, in retrospect, terrifying. Instead of a "jolly old elf," I sounded like a vengeful mountain deity who had come to settle a debt. My "heartiness" was so intense it felt like a physical threat. A wave of pure, unadulterated horror swept through the room. Several toddlers immediately burst into tears, while others dove for cover behind their parents' legs, convinced that this massive, shouting red man was there to take them away. It was a demographic disaster.
However, when the sun went down and the "Adult Santa" session began, my frightening intensity finally found its proper audience. The hikers, fueled by Christmas spirit, were a much more receptive crowd for my brand of storytelling. The darker the innuendo, the louder the laughs.
"I know you’ve been bad," I told one regular hiker, "so let’s dispense with the small talk, little lady."
I leaned into the role with gusto, fielding requests with lines like:
- "Wanna come with me on the sleigh and join the mile-high club?"
- "Control yourself, dear—I don't want water on my knee."
- "I’m lonely up at the North Pole. To be honest, I need someone really bad. Are you really bad?"
- "Sorry I’m late... I got my sack caught in the chimney."
- "How many chimneys did I go down today? Stacks!"
By the time the night was over, the room was in hysterics. I realized then that while I might be a nightmare-inducing prospect for a four-year-old, I make an excellent Santa for the over-eighteen crowd.
