What is your craziest holiday story?

This could be weird and unexpected gifts, funny things that happened during the holiday, and so on.

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Not crazy, exactly, but my mom has a fairly large collection of miniature buildings, people, etc to build a tabletop Christmas village with. It’s a lot of work! After a certain point, she started inviting her grandkids over to help set it all up on the pool table in the basement. (We also have Christmas dinner there on around the 23rd; this is a way to visit with the kids who may not be able to make it then.) This has been going on for nearly twenty years now.

So last week, a bunch of 20-somethings and their significant others got together to set the whole thing up. They had a heck of a lot of fun, and the result is something you’d expect from folks who’d grown up with SimCity and similar games. It’s funny to think about how this village has gotten more and more sophisticated over the years!

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I think we need a pic!

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I’ll see what I can do!

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Here’s my crazy holiday story. Around 5 years ago give or take my husband had to work so I went to my parents house alone for Christmas. My brother and his wife gave us a gorgeous set of towels for Christmas. I got home and my mil had a fit because you know it was only enough for 2 people (she lives with us). They were beige towels. Not a crazy color or anything. So for spite she bought a set of towels (three each) so everything matched. :roll_eyes::roll_eyes::roll_eyes::roll_eyes:

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Not directly Holiday related but it took place in the Holiday season.

Once upon a time my best friend from high school was living in a suburb of Chicago with her boyfriend and I was living in the southern US. We would talk every day and shes truly the best friend Ive ever had. Well one day around Christmas time I couldnt take it anymore, I took off of work, flew to Chicago, drove an hour to her apartment. When she answered the door I told her Id been in love with her since highschool, and I wanted to be with her. She moved down soon after and now we are happily married :grinning:

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That’s a great story! So glad it worked out for you two!

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I’m not crying, you’re crying.

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Here’s a photo of the Christmas village. It doesn’t really do it justice, though, as a lot of the fun is in the smaller details.


The big black blocks in the back, that look kind of like the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey, are actually battery-powered animated fireworks.

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That is so awesome.

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I have two.

Back before the world went sideways I had an adventure I didn’t want. My boyfriend and I managed to have me come and visit his family. I flew up and back. The adventure happened on the way back on Christmas Eve. The plane was a puddle jumper airplane (20 row airplane) and we landed. I headed to the next gate and noticed it was slightly foggy. We got on the plane and sat for a while before they pulled us off. It continued to get foggier and foggier. I kept the parents updated (I was supposed to be home to help). It got so foggy that even the large planes with better equipment were grounded.

A couple people asked for alternate flights to get them somewhere closer to their destination while others made plans to rent a car and get home. Some lady in front of me lost her crap before the big planes were grounded on the fact that we weren’t taking off. The guy behind me and I were loudly overly polite to the crew member who was wrangling these questions. In my parents’ house, it changed to my brother picking me up from the airport (due to being stuck in Detroit for a while). I eventually got back to where I was headed. My brother picked me up and took me to his house. My niece kept saying “Go home?” in regards to me.

The other one happened earlier this year. New Year’s Eve I get the message that there is a problem with my flight from Detroit to my final destination (something wrong with the plane itself). I attempt to find another way home that doesn’t involve renting a car and driving 4 hours on little sleep. No such luck so I rent a car (first time I ever had to do that) from Detroit to my final destination. I keep my ticket just in case the plane magically gets fixed in the next 24 hours. It doesn’t so I fly from my boyfriend’s parents’ house to Detroit. I then leave and figure out how to get to the rental place. From there, I start driving and don’t stop. I am functioning on three hours of sleep and just want to get home to my parents.

Family friends of my parents are coming over for a brunch shortly after I get home. I don’t even have time for a nap. They proceed to stay for 8 hours and it is not my right to kick them out of my parents’ house (though I really wanted to and my parents are too polite to do so). I was so emotionally and socially over it. I didn’t feel good the next day but figured it was from overstimulation and a four hour drive on three hours of sleep. A week later, I was diagnosed with Covid.

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This happened in 1970, give or take a year; it was certainly before I came on the scene. Up until mum got married, she lived with her father and her teenage sister (the mother had sadly passed away a few years before) in one of the east districts of London. When mum and dad got married, they moved about 3 miles away, and would regularly pop back to see her father and sister.

On one of these visits, Mum ended up going on her own; I think Dad had been called in to do some overtime at his work. When Mum was there, her sister said that she had something to take back to give to her hubby; he had apparently asked for it. She was expecting to have given it to him directly, but him not being there was very short notice.

It was a package, wrapped up in some paper, and it was heavy, probably about ten pounds. Her sister looked a little guilty giving it to her, but apparently it was something that he’d asked for. She got a suitcase, and put it in there, and proceeded to take it back home.

The thing to consider here is that whilst ten pounds isn’t too heavy, it was in a case that could only be carried by one hand at a time, and there were no wheels. Also my parents didn’t have a car so had to walk everywhere. I’m not sure why she didn’t use public transport; she may well not have had enough money on her for that. In any case, three miles is a LONG way to carry a heavy weight in one hand. Also, my parents lived at the top of a long hill, so that didn’t help matters either.

It wasn’t long before Mum reached the stage where she was saying to herself “get to the next lamp post and change hands”, and willing herself to take each step to achieve that goal.

Eventually, she got home. Dad was there, and was puzzled with the package he was handed. He took it into a different room, shut the door. After a short while there was a burst of laughter. However, when he came out, he didn’t say anything about it.

Fast forward a couple of weeks, and it is Christmas Day. Mum gets a parcel from Dad, and it turns out that this is what he had asked his sister-in-law for help with. He had asked her to disguise the package so Mum wouldn’t recognise it.

Rather than put it in a large box, she had decided to get a couple of very large stones from the rockery and make the package into a rock sandwich. I’m not sure whether it was a practical joke to play on my dad or she just wasn’t thinking . I suspect the former, as she did look a little guilty when she handed the package over (although it is a shame she didn’t repackage it).

Anyway, what was this present that Dad asked for help with? A pair of tights.

Which promptly laddered the first time Mum wore them.

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I can’t remember any crazy stories of my own, but my aunt was born on Christmas Eve. I know from my mom that Grandma went into labor with her in the afternoon, leading to all kinds of hijinx, such as Grandpa just throwing the tinsel and some decorations on the tree in a hurry, my mom being placed hastily in (IIRC) their grandparents’ care and a pan of Christmas sweets being burned because no one had the time/capacity to take it out in time.
And Mom distinctly remembers that when they returned from the hospital, she (almost 2 at the time) was convinced that my aunt was a new, very cool doll she got as a gift, one that moved on its own and closed its eyes when she reached at them with her hand, saying “Yay, dolly, gimme” :grin: .

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I think the only crazy story I have which isn’t a downer is the one when the oven door opened and the turkey fell out of the oven without anybody noticing for quite some time. I think it was about 2200 before we had dinner that year.

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oh no!

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I don’t remember the exact year, but it would have been around the mid 70s. At the time, my older aunt worked an overnight shift at a bank, and would need to go in to work Christmas night. The plan was for Mom to roast the turkey overnight on low heat, we’d all have Christmas dinner around noon, and my aunt could go home for a nap before work.

A couple weeks before, Mom brought home a kitten for my brother and I. Midnight was under three months old and still in “investigate everything” mode.

So, it’s Christmas Eve. Mom sent my brother and I off to bed, then she and my grandfather assembled my brother’s new train set under the tree … but for some reason, the train won’t go in the right direction. Push the lever to “forward”, it goes backward. They finally give up and decide to tell my brother that Santa was in a hurry and the train will need to be worked on later.

Grandpa went home, and Mom started prepping the turkey. Every predatory instinct in Midnight immediately awakened once he scents raw bird. Mom can’t wake either of her kids up to run interference because there’s Christmas presents set up under the tree, and locking a part-Siamese cat (the specific part was the vocal cords) in the bathroom would be guaranteed to wake us. So stuffing the bird turned into one spoonful of stuffing, shove Midnight off the counter, another spoonful of stuffing, shove Midnight off the counter, lather rinse repeat. Midnight managed to get his little fangs into the turkey’s tail at one point, at which point a two-pound kitten tried to carry off a 25-pound turkey and should be thankful Mom detached him before he gave himself a hernia.

Finally, the turkey is ready to go in the oven, which had been preheating all the time Mom and Grandpa were working on the train set. Mom opened the oven door, and it’s cold. (We learned later that a wire had broken.) Luckily, my grandparents lived only a couple blocks away. Mom called them, they got up and turned their oven on, she drove over and put the turkey in to roast.

Mom got back home, and discovered she didn’t have her house key. The place she was working at that time had valet parking, so she always kept her car key separate from the rest of the key ring. When she’d dashed out with the turkey, she hadn’t grabbed her purse, just the key. For whatever reason, she didn’t think to head back to her parents/my grandparents to get their spare key. Instead, she started knocking on our bedroom windows. Finally, my brother woke up, and Mom told him to not look at anything, just come open the door for her. He let Mom into the house, she rushed him back to bed, then collapsed into a chair.

(Oh, and the train set? Mom gave the planned speech, my brother picked up the engine and turned it 180 degrees, and it ran in the intended direction.)

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This is the most hilarious story I have ever heard, I have a black kitten and can literally SEE this happening in my head and she also is part siamese in her vocal cords and has A Lot of Very Important Opinions.

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I have no crazy holiday stories of my own (that I recall), but one of the columns I enjoy reading annually is Carolyn Hax’s " Hootenanny of Holiday Horrors". The first part tends to be advice, but the second part includes some hilarious holiday mishaps.
I am not sure the link below will work as you may need a subsciption - but if it doesn’t, try Google search.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/advice/2022/12/09/live-chat-carolyn-hax/

I also love reading Dave Barry’s annual “Year in Review”, but haven’t read this year’s column yet. I have read Dave Barry (Miami Herald) for years - he’s hilarious.

sample story: ll-time favorite hoot story
Guest
1:33 p.m.
I’ve been here for all the Hoots (and, simultaneously, have not aged a day) and my favorite hoot story is the grandma who decided to give checks one year. She wrote up the cards: “This year, buy your own present! Love, Grandma” and sent them off. Only much later did she open her desk drawer and find the checks.

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