The sand was soft under my bare feet as I enjoyed a nice afternoon jog down the beach. This stretch is a bit more peaceful and always has a little more action than the area adjacent to my place. I live next to the nude beach that populates a barrage of elderly couples and homosexual patrons showing off their sagging bits and pieces…not very appetizing. Anywho, the conditions were immaculate as the cool breeze off the ocean worked in perfect unison with the blazing New Zealand sun. Jacko was passionately preaching to me about ‘Dirty Diana’ on the ipod. There were kids frolicking in the water; surfers trying to find their break; sand castles being erected and destroyed – all the normal stuff you would expect to see at the beach on a gorgeous Saturday in the summer. Just as ‘Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough’ chimed in, I noticed an usually large gathering of people up near the dunes. It was mostly families with a lot of kids running about. I didn’t think much of it until I spotted my old tubby buddy all dressed up in red. Ole Saint Nick himself was sitting right in the middle of the group all decked out in his Santa attire.
I had to stop and look again, but sure enough the jolly old bastard had a delighted little kid sitting on his lap, making that list and checking it twice. Santa at the beach – red nose, hat and all! If I were him I would at least take off those boots and let my toes eat up some sand, but he was dressed to the T – what a trooper. I knew it was going to be a warm Christmas down here, but it just never dawned on me that I would ever see Santa Claus at the beach. I always thought he was the cold weather type – apparently I was wrong. After an entire childhood spent in the northern hemisphere dreaming of a white Christmas, it was quite the peculiar scene.