The Flight Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and I was afraid:
A blizzard had blown in; my flight was delayed.

My stocking was hung in a house far away
In hopes that I’d make it home by Christmas Day.

The airport was buzzing with passengers stranded,
Whose holiday hadn’t gone quite as they’d planned it.

And mom’s to their children were muttering, “Crap!
We might as well find ourselves somewhere to nap.”

When out on the runway arose such a clatter
I sprung from my spot against the wall where I had been charging my cell phone and playing Solitaire to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Knocking a European family aside with a crash.

The moon brightly shone through the buffeting snow,
But what we were looking for I didn’t know.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer

And a great bearded Santa in a bright orange vest
Who was guiding the pilots through that frosty mess!

The tower lost power; he was all on his own
As he waved to the planes with those glowing red cones:

“Now Phoenix! Now Houston! Now Dallas/Ft. Worth!
On Cleveland! On Newark, you folks were here first!

To the top of the runway, airlines great and small!
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!”

Like coastal folks fleeing a great hurricane,
A mad rush of people tried boarding our plane.

They jostled and grunted like apes at the zoo
as stewards attempted to usher them through.

I flashed them my ticket and rushed to my seat,
Hardly believing this miracle treat.

And then, once the passengers all were aboard,
They stowed the last luggage; they closed the last door,

While I at my window glanced out to the wing
And saw quite a magical, wonderful thing:

Santa called out from the seat of his sleigh
And the blizzard subsided, the winds died away!

The snow seemed to melt right in front of my eyes
As Santa’s eight reindeer leapt up to the sky!

The pilots all followed, and mine not the last,
All hoping this break in the weather would last.

Some veered north to Portland, some south to L.A.,
But ours kept up close behind dear Santa’s sleigh.

He guided us onward straight into the stars;
No flight ever flown sped so smoothly as ours!

When we landed, thank heavens, the runways were clear,
But gone were our guide and his special reindeer.

We couldn’t find Santa, his reindeer or sleigh;
Their mission accomplished, they’d flown straight away.

We taxi’d a moment once we’d safely touched down,
Grateful to finally be back on the ground.

How could it have happened? Was it some kind of trick?
A break from the blizzard! A visit from St. Nick!

No one dared to speak once we’d emptied the plane;
Our families would all think we’d gone quite insane,

But we knew he’d been there, that he’d yelled to the night,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!”

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