A typical Monday night.

I live in a rather crappy, slightly dangerous area of town. When Lou and I hear loud sounds outside in the night we always try and guess if it was fireworks or actually gunshots. The gas station down the street (a 5 minute walk) was held up by men with sawed off shotguns. The apartment complex down the street and across the main street is known for being dangerous with shootings, murders and the like going on. Lou's car was stolen right from our parking lot. And my bike right off our back porch.

Tonight was no different...as I assumed. In the distance I heard someone scream, then I heard sirens and firetrucks and chaos. The cats were flipping out and I'm poking my nose through the vertical blinds. I saw tons of flashing lights down the street coming right towards our apartment building! So I'm thinking someone must have been murdered right outside, and I'm yelling to Lou "oh my god! They're coming this way! ..someone's gotta be dead.. there's flashing lights everywhere, Lou you gotta see this!..there's....Oh....it's Santa."
So apparently...it was just Santa riding in a firetruck with his entourage. Waving merrily, with festive Christmas music echoing from the truck as he rode by. People all around yelling "santa! it's santa!"

Now don't I feel dumb. And also a little sad that I would instantly think something terrible was going on.

Still, it was pretty funny.