Christmas Like a Friday Night

“Friday night lights twinkle brighter because we see them through an idealized lens created by excessive inebriation.”

It’s funny how things change when we get older. And by change I mean everything. And by older I mean past 20s. I remember thinking about Christmas like it was a Friday night. It was all hazy and warm, and I was with my friends until all hours enjoying them, but maybe not remembering it in the morning. And no matter how much money I had with me to start the evening it would all be gone by the time I came to, all groggy on someone’s seedy couch.

It was Friday night because that’s when I was the most selfish, when I didn’t care about pretty much anyone else, just my own desires. If I wanted to shop for CDs all night that’s what I did, and I used money I shouldn’t have to buy as many as I could. If I wanted to go to a club (or 10) then I did it, buying drinks that I probably shouldn’t have bought, and then buying some more. It was hedonistic at its base, and I was deliriously happy on those Friday nights, but the Saturday mornings caught up with me. They always did, but somehow I would conveniently forget each week.

Christmas used to be a series of “YESses” and “NOs” all tumbled together and shaken out to dry. Did I want a computer? Sure. Did I want clothes? Not a chance. Even though I always needed clothes back then, and even though I often wore the same pants three times in a week because I had nothing else. But my CD collection was the envy of the neighborhood. Priorities. I guess as I got older my priorities shifted to match where I was supposed to be on the evolutionary scale. Either that or I realized I was making absolutely no progress doing what I was doing. Maybe Christmas was really meant to be once a year, and not every Friday night. And maybe there was more to it than my patented responses.

And I don’t care about the Starbucks cup, but I am a little upset that they shut down all of the Tim Hortons nearby, because instead of getting drunk and buying myself stuff this Christmas all I want to do is wake up in the morning and brew myself a lovely cup of coffee. Seasons change. People change. I’ve changed. And Christmas like a Friday night is no longer something I find appealing. Now I want Christmas to be like a Sunday morning — easy.

Sam