I went up the escalator until I reached the top floor of the store, which specialized in home furnishings, prescription eyeglasses, customer service and gift wrapping. I remember getting distracted playing in the hanging oriental rugs for a few minutes, before I remembered my task. I was determined to meet Rudolph. After all, reindeer were practically horses. Only they had antlers and could fly. I would show Santa how good I was with the reindeer. How well we got along. The reindeer would like me. I was sure of that. I was a nice person, and had watched the TV show about Rudolph several times. I knew all their names. If I was lucky, I might even be allowed to play their reindeer games.
I managed to find a hidden elevator with a sign that read “Staff Only”----this was my ticket. I pushed the button and up I went to the secret ninth floor. The door opened, and there I was---with the eyes of about a dozen grown-ups all trained on me as I stepped out of the elevator. I decided to just try to blend in. Pretend like I worked there. I had just turned six, so it could happen.
As I strolled past cubicles and office doors, I knew this was the place. I just knew it. Within seconds, I would be nose to red-nose with Rudolph. We would quickly become best friends. In fact, as leader of the team of reindeers, and Santa’s right-hand man, it was likely that Rudolph had a certain pull with Santa. Of course, not that I didn’t like Rudolph simply for who he was, but it never hurt to have a friend in high places when it came to getting a horse. After all, not every child was good enough to get a horse. But I knew I was. I felt it in my bones.
Cindy Robinson had gotten a puppy the year before from Santa---and everyone knew that she hadn’t been that good. In fact, it created a bit of a scandal when Cindy came to school after Christmas break with pictures of her new puppy, Kibbles. After all, the memory of Cindy’s violent outburst at the Halloween party when she tore the crown off of Melinda Harmon’s head, stomped it to the ground and proclaimed herself to be the Prettiest Princess Of Them All was still fresh in our minds. How did Cindy manage to convince Santa she deserved a puppy? That was something we all wanted to know and heatedly discussed over fish sticks that day.
After much debate, we came to the conclusion that it was most likely a clerical error. Not only that, but Melinda herself remembered that Cindy’s father just happened to be a manager at Kendall’s. Hmmm. How convenient. Though none of us would ever suspect Santa of taking a bribe, we did consider the possibility that Mr. Harmon could somehow have gotten his hands on Santa’s List. Perhaps Mr. Harmon, with a father’s blind love for his spoiled brat of a daughter, could have snatched Santa’s List while he was busy feeding the reindeer and then simply moved Cindy’s name from the list of bad children and added her to the list of good children. Most likely, Santa, busy with the holiday preparations, as well as spending so much time away at his winter home in Milwaukee, didn’t notice, and had simply mailed his list to the elves, who, as we all knew, took over from there. Next thing you know, Kibbles is under the tree.
A conspiracy of the highest order.
However, I felt secure in the knowledge that I didn’t need this sort of evil plot to obtain my prize. I would succeed by hard-work, obedience, good deeds and the kind word put in for me by Rudolph himself. As I made my way down the hallway, I spotted a door, which clearly read, “Roof Access”. Now was my chance.
I took a deep breath and pushed the door as hard as I could. At that very second, I felt the most overwhelming feeling of joy I’d ever known.
And then, the security alarm went off.
The siren blared all thru the ninth floor, causing a flood of adults to suddenly appear behind me. I stood paralyzed in the doorway and looked down at my patent leather shoes.
Oh no. Santa would be sure to hear about this.
One of the grown-ups, a thin lady with short, brown hair that smelled of a new permanent wave, came over and took my hand.
“Sweetheart, are you lost?”
I nodded my head. I could barely speak, knowing the police would soon be on their way. I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d done, but I knew it was bad. After all, I’d set off an alarm. When a security guard appeared, I knew I was about to be handcuffed and sent to the slammer. I did the only thing a six year-old child could do at that point---I cried.
Next thing I knew, they were asking questions. Where was my mother? What was my name? What was my mother’s name? Did I know my phone number? What was I doing up there? It was only after Permanent Wave offered me some juice and a candy cane, that I finally calmed down enough to answer their questions. I knew what was coming next, the moment every child in a department store dreads.
The intercom.
“Will Mrs. Helena Krakowski please come to the ninth floor reception desk. We’ve found your daughter. Mrs. Helena Krakowski please come to the ninth floor reception desk.”
Moments later, my mother stepped out of the elevator with a look of both relief and annoyance. After thanking the permanent wave lady about fifteen times, she took me on her lap and asked why I had run off to the ninth floor?
I wanted to see Santa.
