3rd Avenue Elves

Last night I canceled. I had a plan with a Frenchman to hear Afro-Cuban music at the Highline Ballroom.

But when I woke up yesterday morning I had a raging cold. By late afternoon it had worsened. The show was set to start at 9 and it was going to be a late night.

The Frenchman understood. I think. Still I was bummed. It was Halloween and I was going to bed early with a runny nose.

My mom called as I was heading out to dinner.

She had just read, for the first time, my story that recently placed in a contest. She had good things to say about it.

This made me feel better about my Halloween. About things in general, in fact.

After dinner I was making my way home when some guys on the sidewalk stopped me and tried to get me to come out with them. They were young and drunk and my cold was still raging. Still it was flattering. I even entertained the thought of actually doing it for a few moments.

Finally, though, I said no and turned to go amidst a faint promise of going to see one of them DJ next week. That was when I realized something. I turned back to the guys. All three of them were dressed as Santa Claus.

My story, the one that placed in the recent contest, is a Christmas story. It's called "One Hundred Santas."

And there, in front of me, were three of them, spoiling me on Halloween.