December 16th, 2005


I was at the Lansing Ski Club. Which is weird, because that was bulldozed and turned into condos long ago. But there I was, and in silhouette at the top of the hill, four riders on horseback. And something behind them: a crowd, a regiment.

I took the chair-lift to the top and, over by the Poma lift on the east face, I could see the regiment clearly. They were all dressed as Santa Claus. "No force on earth," I shouted to them, "can stop 100 Santas!"

A few chuckles, but they were awfully serious for a bunch of guys in Santa suits.

I approached them and asked if they would like to join up for a Santa bar-crawl later. "No thank you," one of them told me. "We don't drink and we have work to do."

That's when I realized it was the end of the world.