‘Spirit of Christmas Past‘ is a series of holiday memories that are keeping me warm this season.  As if I needed to be any warmer…

He was in over his head.  The instructions couldn’t have been more confusing.  The “2 hours to assemble” written in the manual was bullsh*t.

I was only 11 years old, but I could clearly read my dad’s face as he sat on my bedroom floor surrounded by hundreds of tiny pieces, “What the Hell was Santa thinking?!?”  Santa had delivered the latest Lego technology—a modern marvel—the battery-operated Legoland airport tram.

The first problem was that my bedroom was too small for this monster of a tram track.  It had two stations—a big one at the airport check-in counter and a smaller substation at the giant terminal.  The picture on the box showed smiling Lego men and women getting on and off that magnificent mode of transportation.

I couldn’t wait to be the controller of my very own major airport system.  There were two options for construction—the track could be circular or a figure-eight.  Being the demanding kid I was, I asked Dad to construct the more difficult figure-eight.

Three hours into construction it looked like an earthquake-wrecked mess.  Cuss words, sweat, and fatigue were required.  Dad and I were battered construction workers ready for strike.  And, so strike we did.

At day break, we had clearer minds.  By Noon on December 26, the figure-eight track looked like a figure-eight.  The tram moved like the wind—all on its own with the push of a button.

My tiny, yellow Lego people had their brown briefcases in their clamp hands.  Some got on the tram, others got off.  Some waited at the station.  Others checked their bags with the airline worker Lego lady.  Some were already sitting in their seats on my Lego Boeing 737.  The pilot’s yellow face smiled as he was cleared for takeoff.

But there was one problem: I couldn’t fit on that plane.  And, dammit, I wanted to fly too.