The Hunt for the PERFECT Tree

You are about to begin the search for the perfect Christmas tree. 

Relax. 

It’s going to be a strenuous journey, both physically and mentally draining. Rid your mind of everything else and focus. Breathe deeply of the crisp winter air. Concentration is crucial to success. There will be distractions—a woman whose three boys insist on playing tag through the aisles of fresh pine, a toddler with sticky candy-cane lips and a runny nose, an elderly gentleman with a cane who just might need a hand.

Forget about them. Close your eyes if need be. This is your moment. Loosen your joints with a series of windmill arm circuits and hip circles. You’ll need to be limber for the task ahead.

Shout it out. “I will get the PERFECT tree!”  Pay no attention to the wary glances of the crowd. They don’t understand what it takes to be a champion.

The lot will not open until 8am, but you will be early. Two hours early. You’ll park your car right in front. You’ll back into the spot, knowing this will make it easier for the eventual tree tie-down process. There will be no little elves to help with your bungee cords and scratchy twine. A secure load is all riding on you this year.

There will be a small crowd waiting by the mesh fence, drooling as season-hire teenaged boys cut the plastic bindings from the Silvertips and allow the trees to shake themselves out, wave their majestic boughs—so ideal for the gold ornament theme you’ve chosen for this year. You’ll make sure that you are first in line. Don’t let the relentless coughing of the four year-old in pj’s rattle you. She might try to push in front of you, but don’t let her.

Shake out your legs, your arms. Prepare yourself in your runner’s stance, the one you’ve been practicing since last year when you lost out in the sprint to the PERFECT TREE by mere seconds. Every instant counts. Ignore the looks you’ll receive from the other patrons. Shout out, “Merry Christmas!” This should help disrupt their troubled frowns.

Of course, the ideal position for sprinting may elude you in the winter cold, but you’ll have to make due. It’s not that you expect anything particular from this Christmas, just that the PERFECT TREE will crown your extensive living room display. The PERFECT TREE: a tree with no dark, dirty holes that must go in a corner, no sawed-off branches, no veering, leering arms reaching toward the floor or ceiling. The tree must be regulation in size, triangular in shape, and the smell…it must exude the sweet, heavenly smell of sugar pine.

In the back of the lot, you will spot your tree. It is ideal, magical. You must make it yours. Surrounding it, you see a sea of obstacles, a thick barricade of other trees, other species—Trees That Aren’t PERFECT—frowning at you from all angles, attempting to confuse you. You’ll refuse to submit to their pressure. You will get the PERFECT tree.

But first, you must fight your way past all obstacles, past:

Trees That Are Oozing With Sap

Trees That Lie About The Strength Of Their Branches

Trees Likely To Catch Fire At The Drop Of A Tree Light

Trees Just Waiting Until You Get Them Home To Show Their Holes

Trees That Smell Like Cow Dung

Trees That Tilt When You Put Them In The Stand, No Matter What

And the gates open! You zigzag your way past these shameless creatures, clawing out at you with open boughs, and make your final sprint down the aisle to your PERFECT tree. You grab hold with one hand, whipping out your own personal yellow SOLD tag with the other and shout to the world, “It’s MINE!”

You have scared away children with your victory cackle, but never mind that. Your mother would be proud.