Confession time

Okay, so the weirdest thing happened back in December 2009, but I've been super confused about it so it's taken this long to write about.

I was with three friends at a swanky hotel bar, and *somebody* got so hammered that the security and emergency medical staff became somehow involved and we were asked to leave. The security guard was apologetic until I flipped him off.

When we left, we took this back road home and came across a property that was a pile of boulders and clay and dirt, about five miles off the interstate and up a spiraling dirt road. It was dry and hot, and we were on dilapidated road and property, and it was probably closed - a sign lay on the ground by the gate that said "North Pole". There were random cheap Christmas decorations laying here and there, plastic snowmen knocked over, reindeer hanging from a tree, and a three foot barber shop/north pole marker at the very top of the hill, clearly meant as a photo op for tourists.

When we got to the top of the driveway, we were met by a balding guy with a maroon and white Hawaiian shirt over an undershirt over his gut that was hanging out. He told us he was Santa, insisted we were at the North Pole.

Behind him was a crumbling ranch-style house just at the top of the hill. It looked dark and hot, the window coverings were drawn. There were some kind of outbuildings behind and to the right, 200 yards back and sitting perpendicular to the house - maybe barns or something big like that. The ground was dusty and dirty, patchy weeds and grass growing wherever they could find a hold.

We decided to get the fuck out of there, but then we saw Santa and (a woman who appeared to be) his wife hurrying out of the house with suitcases and loading up an old beater in the driveway in front of us.

I blacked out for a while and found myself in the living room where I was confronted by several Hispanics who explained that they were slaves who had just "overthrown" the owners (as those owners had done to their predecessors) and they'd just taken control of the property by force. The old owners were fleeing for their lives.

Down a hallway in a back room, we came across a crazy young mother and twin baby girls (identical, pale-skinned, bald, big round heads, wearing pale pink pants, and barefooted), roughly a year old. The mother was babbling, worried about being killed by the servants. She was apparently the victim of some sort of incest or rape by the owner, Santa, her male relative, because when we explained that we'd come from the hotel to rescue her and her babies, she shot one of the twins and said something like, "That one was his, I'm taking mine with me," which made a kind of convoluted sense at the time.

Just as we began our retreat down the hallway with the crazy mother mumbling and cowering, the injured baby we left for dead began wailing and trying to crawl after us. I picked her up but I don't remember if I end up taking her with us.

A a psychotic grandmother-age woman came wheeling down the hall at full speed, trying to stop us from leaving. We ran into the living room where we grabbed things to throw at her in defense, like picture frames and paperback books.

Everyone ended up in the living room, slaves, Santa and his woman, wacko grandma, crazy young mother and baby, myself and my friends who came with me, I'm not clear on which friends they were. We seemed to be "choosing sides" and the slaves and mom/baby stood on our side while the old owners and grandma faced us, and we began kind of...squaring off, but just via conversation at that point. Negotiations.

I remember I threw some things at the grandma's head and missed her every time.

When I woke up in a ditch three days later, I was sorry to find I'd mislaid my chapstick in the confusion.