Getting into the Holiday Spirit

Christmas is approaching, so that means the weather is at its most uninspiring, and this morning I awoke to news that an unfortunate shop worker in Long Island was trampled to death in the 'Black Friday' shopping rush. That's so awful; I mean, it's bad enough to be earning minimum wage at Wal Mart, but to be crushed by the influx of trailer trash shoppers intent on purchasing their $9.99 pick tinsel Christmas tree is just too depressing for words.

I don't know how this news story played out in The States but it was given quite a prominent spot on our news, probably because it underscores the greed, selfishness and disregard for human life that, to the rest of the world, is America. It also helps those in the UK to feel morally superior to the US despite the arrest of an MP for exercising freedom of speech and the quashing of taped proof of police brutality during a trial in order to obtain a verdict in favor of the prosecution.

All this was revealed during a 5-minute news break while I was attempting to enjoy my breakfast, which is as good an argument as any for continuing to avoid it; nothing good really comes out of listening to it.

The local news isn't much better. Our resident shopping mall—the providers of our holiday consumer joy—have banned a popular, local waif from selling magazines (her only source of income) from beneath the shelter of the large awning that graces the front of the mall. She now has to stand in the rain, just beyond the safety of the overhang.

When asked for comment, the spokesperson for the mall merely confirmed that the area under the awning was private property. Now, that is unquestionably the letter of the law, but in the spirit of the season, these people living off of our shopping addictions come across as real parsimonious pricks.

But it's not all doom and gloom. The town center lights this year are really pretty, and I managed to start off the official holiday season with a memorable Thanksgiving feast, even if it wasn't turkey.

In an attempt to avoid the yearly heartbreak of trying and failing to recreate a traditional Thanksgiving dinner in the UK, my wife decided to take us out to dinner instead. We went to our town's poshest (and newest) restaurant—Tristan's —where, instead of enjoying a Turkey with all of the trimmings, I had to content myself with spending the average annual wage of a Bangladeshi family of four working in the Nike factory on a single meal.

It was, however, fantastic. I'm here to tell you that food, when it is not being served by teenagers wearing hairnets and nametags, is really quite a treat. The only drawback was that, as it was a swanky joint, the cuisine was of the nouvelle variety, meaning large plates adorned with small portions of artfully arranged food. That, in itself, wasn't bad, as I finished the meal feeling satisfied but not stuffed. I made the mistake, however, of effusing about the meal to my wife, prompting her to start serving meals like this:
  
Fortunately, there's an Indian take-out just across the street.