Saturday, December 11, 2004
He sees you when you're sleeping
It's so easy to become incredibly bitter towards Christmas in the city. So little of what you see in the period between late November and New Year's is free of the taint of commercialism. Obviously, Christmas is the most commercial holiday that has ever existed (well, okay, there's Sweetest Day, but I'm talking about sheer volume of monetary transactions) and in this form its tendrils definitely extend to the most Rockwellian reaches of small town America. But in those places there's a chance, just a chance, that a shopkeeper or city council just wants to hang up pretty things to get people into the Christmas spirit, the TRUE Christmas spirit, which is not about buying presents but rather, is about singing carols to lull the flesh-eating ghost of Jesus back to sleep before he kills us all. No, these slick metropolitans know nothing of Christ-lullery. For them it's all about gussying up the perfume department or luring in fickle tourist dollars, which demand lighting so dense it is visible from space or they'll take their business elsewhere. And so, it's at the point that walking downtown during the holidays just makes you feel a little dead inside, forcing you to think of simpler, purer things like Christmas in Pac-Land or the classic Coca-Cola ads where they sang, "Santa packs are coming! Santa packs are coming! Santa packs are coming...coming to your town!" Imagine my surprise, then, when I found my holiday spirit rekindled by a massive assault of light, sound, and Christmas kitsch known as the CTA Holiday Train.
I was still cursing my near-miss of the previous train when it appeared, first as a glint of multicolored light in the corner of my eye, then pulling into the station in the entirety of its glory. A full-length Chicago elevated train, positively encrusted in lights spelling out holiday greetings along the side. Inside each car, the fluorescent lights overhead were covered in red and green filters, and the metal poles were replaced with faux-candy canes. Wreaths, bows, and tinsel were decked along the mobile halls, and conductors dressed as elves were handing out candy in every car. A surprisingly varied selection of Christmas music was being blasted through the PA system (including the deeply disturbing "Santa Claus Needs Some Loving.") But the centerpiece of it all was the middle car of the train, which had been removed and replaced with a flatbed covered in holly and fake snow, adorned with gingerbread houses, miniature trees, and eight reindeer pulling a full-sized sleigh. There in the sleigh, Santa himself--not a plastic facsimile, mind you, but an actual person shouting out Christmas greetings to passersby. All together, it was totally surreal. I thought that perhaps I had hit my head getting out of the bus, and in a few minutes I would awaken from this sugar plum hallucination in a ditch by the highway. But it was real, and for all its glitter, I must say that this wanton display of Christmosity really got me to be happy about the holidays. I mean, people are going to take the train no matter what's going on, so the existence of this phantom Polar Express seems financially unwarranted. And yet there it is, and as I looked out its windows I was perpetually delighted by the mixture of surprise and fear that shone on the faces of all the people at the stations along its route. And when those people got on that train, they were much jollier than they were before. Sure, there was still the frenzied jostling for positions, pushing to get in and out, and elbowing of those who get in your way, but you could tell that people were doing so with a song in their heart. So bless you, Holiday Train. Whether your final destination be the North Pole or some run-down switching station on 95th street, I wish you well in your mission to keep clattering and sparking your way into the spirits of the multitudinous Scrooges, Grinches, and That One Skeevy Agent Guy From Ernest Saves Christmases that infest the city streets.
I do have some questions, though. Doesn't Santa get really, really cold sitting out in the open air on the train? What with the wind chill and all. I know he is enshrouded in Arctic furs, but still, it could get below zero pretty easily up there. Also, while it is called the "Holiday Train", it's pretty obvious what holiday is being celebrated here. Is there a Chanukah Bus zipping around the North Side, klesmer blaring? And what of Tiny Tim? Tell me, spirit! Tell me!
It's so easy to become incredibly bitter towards Christmas in the city. So little of what you see in the period between late November and New Year's is free of the taint of commercialism. Obviously, Christmas is the most commercial holiday that has ever existed (well, okay, there's Sweetest Day, but I'm talking about sheer volume of monetary transactions) and in this form its tendrils definitely extend to the most Rockwellian reaches of small town America. But in those places there's a chance, just a chance, that a shopkeeper or city council just wants to hang up pretty things to get people into the Christmas spirit, the TRUE Christmas spirit, which is not about buying presents but rather, is about singing carols to lull the flesh-eating ghost of Jesus back to sleep before he kills us all. No, these slick metropolitans know nothing of Christ-lullery. For them it's all about gussying up the perfume department or luring in fickle tourist dollars, which demand lighting so dense it is visible from space or they'll take their business elsewhere. And so, it's at the point that walking downtown during the holidays just makes you feel a little dead inside, forcing you to think of simpler, purer things like Christmas in Pac-Land or the classic Coca-Cola ads where they sang, "Santa packs are coming! Santa packs are coming! Santa packs are coming...coming to your town!" Imagine my surprise, then, when I found my holiday spirit rekindled by a massive assault of light, sound, and Christmas kitsch known as the CTA Holiday Train.
I was still cursing my near-miss of the previous train when it appeared, first as a glint of multicolored light in the corner of my eye, then pulling into the station in the entirety of its glory. A full-length Chicago elevated train, positively encrusted in lights spelling out holiday greetings along the side. Inside each car, the fluorescent lights overhead were covered in red and green filters, and the metal poles were replaced with faux-candy canes. Wreaths, bows, and tinsel were decked along the mobile halls, and conductors dressed as elves were handing out candy in every car. A surprisingly varied selection of Christmas music was being blasted through the PA system (including the deeply disturbing "Santa Claus Needs Some Loving.") But the centerpiece of it all was the middle car of the train, which had been removed and replaced with a flatbed covered in holly and fake snow, adorned with gingerbread houses, miniature trees, and eight reindeer pulling a full-sized sleigh. There in the sleigh, Santa himself--not a plastic facsimile, mind you, but an actual person shouting out Christmas greetings to passersby. All together, it was totally surreal. I thought that perhaps I had hit my head getting out of the bus, and in a few minutes I would awaken from this sugar plum hallucination in a ditch by the highway. But it was real, and for all its glitter, I must say that this wanton display of Christmosity really got me to be happy about the holidays. I mean, people are going to take the train no matter what's going on, so the existence of this phantom Polar Express seems financially unwarranted. And yet there it is, and as I looked out its windows I was perpetually delighted by the mixture of surprise and fear that shone on the faces of all the people at the stations along its route. And when those people got on that train, they were much jollier than they were before. Sure, there was still the frenzied jostling for positions, pushing to get in and out, and elbowing of those who get in your way, but you could tell that people were doing so with a song in their heart. So bless you, Holiday Train. Whether your final destination be the North Pole or some run-down switching station on 95th street, I wish you well in your mission to keep clattering and sparking your way into the spirits of the multitudinous Scrooges, Grinches, and That One Skeevy Agent Guy From Ernest Saves Christmases that infest the city streets.
I do have some questions, though. Doesn't Santa get really, really cold sitting out in the open air on the train? What with the wind chill and all. I know he is enshrouded in Arctic furs, but still, it could get below zero pretty easily up there. Also, while it is called the "Holiday Train", it's pretty obvious what holiday is being celebrated here. Is there a Chanukah Bus zipping around the North Side, klesmer blaring? And what of Tiny Tim? Tell me, spirit! Tell me!
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