Not a Basic Hallmark Movie

"I am sorry, sir. There is no way I can get you on a flight tonight or for the next couple days for that matter. I can rebook your flight after Christmas or give you a refund." The attendant behind the desk looks exhausted as she says these words for probably the umpteenth time since the airport stalled all flights. "It is too risky with the snowstorm, and everything else is booked."

"I have gone to the Caribbean every Christmas, and there is no way you can get me on any flight."

"Nope, now do you want a rebooking or a refund. Please choose quickly as I have other people to attend to."

I turn around. The line is long and not really a line just an unruly and impatient mass of bodies. Most faces are red in the face from either anger or the cold. Not really sure which. "Refund, please."

The moment I step outside, my face gets hit by a whirlwind of snow. Yep, it's definitely winter, and I hate it. I find the paid parking lot which took about ten minutes to get to. It is a longer walk due to the cheaper price. I pull my car keys out of my pocket, take one clunky glove off, and spam that lock button. I keep weaving between cars and getting farther from the airport as I hope and pray that I find my car very soon. Then, I hear the familiar beep. I follow that beautiful sound until I can see the lights which are very faint in the snow. I put my one clunky glove back on and unlock the car to grab my snow brush. The flight attendant was not kidding about the snow. I was literally gone an hour, and my car is covered.

With the car brushed off and me inside, I bask in the slowly warming car. It may still be cold in here, but it is better than being out there where it feels like little tiny ice shards keep sprinkling on your face. How am I supposed to enjoy being at home?

It's not like I hate Christmas. I was a casual Christmas enjoyer much like the rest of the world, but I made the mistake of moving to this sugar coated, gingerbread smelling, straight out of a Hallmark movie Christmas town. There are so many lights that the town needs two back up generators to power them all. The streets smell like fresh baked cookies 24/7 like you're walking past thirty bakeries. To top it all off, the constant Christmas music makes me vomit. We have a handful of radio stations, and they only play Christmas songs from November 1st through New Years. It's like Thanksgiving doesn't exist until Thanksgiving day and then goes back to Christmas as if Thanksgiving didn't happen. Honestly, I have not met a single person that has any other favorite holiday besides Christmas. I can't move due to my job, and I enjoy it enough. I just make sure I have the last couple of weeks of the year off to avoid the worst of it.

I slowly drive to a gas station to grab a couple things for dinner (as I was going to eat at the airport) and head home very carefully.

"Joshua!" I sigh. I know that voice as none other than my next door neighbor, Deborah. Of course, I run into her when I'm about to unlock my front door. "I thought you were going on your trip!"

I turn around and plaster on a fake smile. "All flights are cancelled due to the storm, so unfortunately I'll be home this year."

"Well isn't this just fantastic. You can finally put that tree up. Right by the window, so everyone can see."

"Just like you've been saying since the Christmas in July event," I mumble to myself. I little louder I say, "Look, I'm really tired, so I'm just going to eat and have an early night."

"Feel free to come over at any time in case you feel lonely. You know we have way too much ham." She begins to turn but remembers, "And don't forget the white elephant gift exchange on the 23rd at 6 pm."

"I will try not to," I say before closing the door. How am I even going to survive this holiday? I put all my groceries away and think about what I'm going to watch on TV but not before I throw some pizza bagels in the microwave.

I wake up to darkness. These black out curtains were a great investment. Before the curtains, I had millions of tiny red and green light beams greeting me with a blinding Christmas spirit all night. Now, I struggle to figure out if it's daytime or nighttime. I look at my phone and conclude daytime.

After getting out of bed, I slide on my slippers and slip my phone in my pocket. I shuffle to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. As the delicious bean juice slowly goes from my Keurig into my non-holiday mug, the doorbell rings. I ignore it watching my mug fill, enveloping myself in the aroma. Doorbell rings again. I take a breath. I need to ignore it, and they will go away. I reach for my steaming cup of coffee. Doorbell. Again. And again.

To my surprise at the front door is of course Deborah holding two Christmas mugs, one in each hand. One is red with the handle shaped like a candy cane and the other has a gingerbread man with a bitten leg that says 'Bite me'. The snow is probably six inches high. Her ankles are snow deep. I hope she is wearing boots.

"Hi Joshua!" The greeting breaks me out of my daze. "I made some hot chocolate! I figured you could some holiday spirit now that you can't go on your fancy vacation." I look at the contents of the hot chocolate. Each has a dollop of whipped cream, a cinnamon stick, and what looks to be cocoa powder sprinkled on top. She nudges my hand with one, and I hesitantly grab the candy cane handle. She stares at me for a moment before saying "Come on, try some."

I take a small sip and lick the whipped cream from my upper lip. I close my eyes and feel the warmth fill me. "Wow, this is the best hot cocoa I've ever tasted."

"It is all homemade," she grins. "I make it right in the crock pot. There is another reason I came by. I was wondering if you would join me in the gingerbread house competition. It starts at noon, and I don't have a partner yet."

I roll my eyes. How could I forget all the Christmas activities that occur. "I actually have plans, sorry. Why don't you ask Hank?" Hank being her grumpy old husband.

"Hank isn't as in to this as me. I thought that since you were in town, I would finally have a chance to participate." Her eyes fall to her feet. "If you've already made plans, that's fine."

I look down at my hot cocoa, the whipped cream melted down to show some mini marshmallows underneath. I sway on my feet trying to weigh my options on how to get out of it. I can't believe the woman who feels like the reincarnation of Mrs. Clause has never done the infamous gingerbread house contest. I sigh. "You said it started at noon?"

She meets my eyes again. "Yes, at the bakery on the corner of main and 12th."

"I'll be there." She grins. "Thanks for the hot cocoa, and-"

"We have to plan on what we're going to build," she interjects. "We can't just go in without some sort of idea."

I look at my phone. It's 9:30. She really asked me two and a half hours before this stupid thing started and doesn't have a plan. With some hesitation, I say, "Please come on in and make yourself at home. Give me ten minutes to get ready, and then we can figure this out."

After the hot chocolate, gingerbread blueprints, and trekking through the snow, we arrive at the bakery. The streets are already cleared from the storm which makes it easier to drive. Despite the slickness on the roads and sidewalks, a line was out the door of the bakery waiting to sign up the upcoming competition. We hop in at the end of the line, and the line is moving fast. Soon, we're at the front deciding our team name when someone calls Deborah's name.

"Hey, Deborah! Where's Hank? You do know that you need a partner." We turn our heads. A couple of ladies about the same age as Deborah stroll up to us. Instead of hats, they are wearing festive headbands, one with reindeer antlers and the other with an elf hat.

"That's why I brought Joshua." She grabs my arm, and I give an awkward wave. "Joshua this is Suzanne and Carol. They're in my knitting club."

"I'm Suzanne." The one with the antlers holds her hand out, and I shake it. "I hope you're up to the contest." She gestures to Carol. "The two of us win every year. Hopefully your house doesn't turn out like Deborah's casserole last week. Anyways, good luck." They walk into the back and disappear

"Those ladies are ruthless. What was that about a casserole?"

"It was my turn to bring the food for knitting club. While carrying the dish to the door, I slipped on some ice, and it landed on my newest Christmas sweater."

I wince. "That must've been rough." Deborah's eyes get teary. "I think we can win this."

She looks up at me. "You really think so?"

"I don't know, but what I do know is that I want to kick their asses."

We decide on The Cinnabons (much to my displeasure) and are directed to the back. The smell of molasses, cinnamon, and sugar hit me straight on. There are work tables set up in rows with slabs of cooked gingerbread in varying sizes and a few filled icing bags in white, red, and green. Each table has small bowls of candies and sprinkles ranging from mini candy canes to gumdrops to licorice bites. There are different tools to cut and carve the gingerbread. I notice that Suzanne and Carol got a table with a couple other older ladies. Everyone has a group of three or four besides me and Deborah which is fine with me. This town can be entitled, and I intend to win this, for Deborah of course.

"I never expected it to be so big," I say still taking it all in. "Or popular." The noise was a dull roar just from all the people talking.

"Back in the 80s, they got a good deal on the space and decided to hold special events here to be closer to the community," she says. "There's an empty table there," she points to one in the back corner. We move quickly before someone can steal it.

"You do remember the plan, right?" she asks me.

"We spent an hour talking about it. Of course, I do."

"May I have everyone's attention please?" There's a woman holding a microphone and the room goes quiet. "We are pleased to announce our 2023 gingerbread house contest. Before we start, we will go over the rules. You have four hours to complete your house or another building of your choice. We judge based on stability and creativity." With her next words she emphasizes each one carefully. "Your time starts now."

The whole room has movement then. I grab some icing, and Deborah cuts a base. I ice one side while Deborah holds a piece in place. I go to ice the next side, but Deborah stops me. "We have to wait for it to be stable."

"I'll hold the next one." I put the icing down for the next piece along with the side edge of the one Deborah is holding and place the next one. "I was wondering why this thing takes four hours, but I understand now."

Deborah slowly lets go of her piece, and it stands in place. "I make them every year. I find it so fun to be creative." She starts on the third wall.

"Me too. I used to build them as a kid," I say along with letting go of mine while getting the last wall. "It helped me decide I wanted to be an architect."

Walls are completed and now the roof. "Why don't you like Christmas?" Deborah asks holding a piece flat on top of the walls.

I outline a rectangle door with red icing. "I do not not like it. This town is always shoving Christmas in my face that Christmas doesn't feel special anymore. Not to mention, my family doesn't talk to me anymore."

Deborah stacks a couple gumdrops on top of each other using icing on the outside to look like trees. "Really? I always assumed you went on vacation with your family."

After doing some windows, I say, "They kicked me out right after college when I came out as gay, so I moved away." I can feel her eyes on me as I focus on sprinkling white sugar crystals on the roof.

"I had no idea. I'm sorry." Deborah starts carving a the name of the bakery into a long rectangle of gingerbread.

"I've come to terms with it. It doesn't bother me anymore. I was lucky that I found a job right away which happened to be far away from them." I place the mini candy canes on each side of the door.

She hugs me. "You are always welcome anytime especially during the holidays."

Surprisingly, I hug her back. "Thanks, Deborah."

"Five minutes left!"

The two of us scramble to put the finishing touches on our gingerbread bakery. Right before a "Time's up" stops us.

The three judges come around; two are the bakery owners and one is the mayor. They each have a clipboard and shaking the table to make sure the gingerbread will stay standing. We happen to be the last to check since we're in the back corner. The owners gasp when they see it.

"It's a mini version of our place!" The woman with a mic had said. They look carefully at it. "It has the Christmas decorations outside to a T."

"They even got the snow outside. Well done." The husband says.

The mayor shakes the table. Other than a little wobbling, the bakery stands. "It passes the earthquake test."

The three go back to their table and discuss for awhile. The wife stands back up with the mic. "We have our results." The anticipation is heavy. "Third place goes to the Cinnabons!"

"Holy shit, that's us," I say dazed. The judges weave themselves to our table once again to give us each a ribbon. I don't really hear who got first or second, but when they announced first, I heard the screaming from Suzanne and Carol.

"Sorry, we didn't win the contest. I really wanted to see them lose." I put my arm around Deborah and give her a side hug.

Looking down at her, I notice her grinning staring at her ribbon. "I had so much fun. The race against the clock and seeing their nervous faces was so thrilling. You have to join me for the ugly sweater contest at Bob's Diner tonight. Unless you still have your plans, then it's ok. I don't need a partner for this one."

I squeeze her shoulders. "Deborah, I think you're finally getting me into the Christmas spirit." Maybe living in a Hallmark movie isn't so bad.