Hope this brightens your Christmas & holiday season :


I ran to the panel to turn up the light,
The better to welcome this magical flight.

He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."

Then what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!

With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all the fixes, he called them by name:

"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacon!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?

While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread.

The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."

He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Took a left at Charlie and taxied to parking.

He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
Then stopped on the ramp with a jolly Hello?

He stepped out of the sleigh, but before any talks,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.

His helmet and goggles were covered with frost,
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.

His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he did not inhale.

His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a crop-duster's belly.

He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to fill it, with hundred low-lead.

He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.

He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up the phone for a Flight Service brief.

I thought as he silently wrote in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.

He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"

He laid a finger on the button: push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.

"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"

He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."

Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, it's a hell of a night!"


Merry Christmas, Happy Kwansa; Happy Chanukah, & Happy Holidays.




atp