By Marc Beurteaux
It’s a dark and chilly afternoon in the west end of Toronto right before Christmas.
I’m waiting with about 150 other people at the Ossington bus stop at Queen St.
People’s arms are full of Christmas shopping; gifts, parcels, bags. It’s getting late and everyone is grumpy.
The bus finally arrives and the riders get on – it’s packed. We’re just pulling away from the curb when the driver stops, opens the door and lets in a middle-aged woman. This woman, as she jumps aboard, loudly asks, “Is this bus going to Bloor Station?!!!”
As soon as the woman says this, everyone on the bus can tell she has serious mental issues. The riders tense. Anyways, the bus driver nods her an answer and the woman bounds down the aisle.
There is only one vacant seat – right behind me. So she plonks herself down and the bus takes off.
We’re driving along when suddenly I hear a surprised gasp from the woman and she asks in a loud voice, “Are you Santa Claus?!!!”
I presume by the direction of her voice that she’s talking to the passenger next to her. There’s no answer but the woman keeps talking, “Oh, I’m so excited! I can’t believe that I’m sitting next to Santa Claus!!!
She continues barely stopping for a breath. “Oh, Santa you must be so busy this time of year? I can’t believe it’s you!”
Then there’s a pause. “Santa, do you think it’s okay for dogs to wear little booties to keep their paws safe from the road salt?” The guy sitting beside her actually answers (it’s the voice of an old man).
“Yes, I think it’s okay.” he says.
The woman, happy that “Santa” has answered her, fires questions at him: “Santa, where is Mrs. Claus right now? Santa, how many elves work for you? Santa, how cold does it get riding in the sleigh?”
And the guy, like a true hero, answers each and every one of her questions. Usually in monosyllabic answers, but answers nonetheless. The whole bus is silent listening to this exchange.
Finally, the woman pauses for a breather.
She starts again and says very slowly, “I love you, Santa.” The man replies, “thank you.”
Another pause. Then, the woman asks louder this time, with a touch of aggression, “I love you Santa.” The man replies louder too,”Thank you.”
The bus is tense, we’re all waiting for something to happen. And then, mercifully, Bloor Station comes into view. The woman sees the station and runs down the aisle to the front of the bus.
There’s a woman sitting beside me and she turns to “Santa” behind us and says to him, “You were wonderful.” Santa replies, with sigh of relief, “thank you.”
I turn to get a glimpse of this guy before we disembark and my jaw drops because sitting right there behind me is an old man with a big bushy white beard, round spectacles and a jolly, red cheeked face!!! He’s not dressed like Santa Claus but sure looks like him.
We get off the bus and I’m dazed, but filled (oddly for me) with Christmas spirit as I just witnessed a miracle on Ossington Ave.