EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY:
BEWARE OF FALLING CHRISTMAS TREES
CRYSTAL CITY, VA (1995)
Marieta always insisted on us buying “real” Christmas trees. Not “fake” trees. REAL TREES. Besides, fake trees are difficult to store, especially living in a high-rise, where space is cramped.
So, every Christmas, we always bought a real tree. The ceiling posed a problem. So, the tree had to be between 6′ and 7′ feet tall. Trees of that size were a real pain in the ass to tie to the car, unload, haul up the elevator, drag down the hallway, fit through the front door, and then set up inside the condo unit. We lived on the 9th floor of a high-rise building in Crystal City, next to National Airport. Our side of the building overlooked the Pentagon. We lived at The Bennington (aka The Point at Pentagon City) for eight years. If you’re counting, that’s *eight* Christmas trees. That’s eight trees to be disposed of, every January.
Real Christmas trees smell nice. That’s about it. The annoying thing about real trees is — they also shed pine needles. The pine needles fall all over the carpet, and they’re sharp to the touch. It was a pain to remove the trees after the holiday season ended, because all the needles always fell onto the floor, in the hallway, and messed up the elevator. Clean-up was a chore.
One year, I got creative. Forget that bullshit of hauling the tree down the elevator and spending the rest of the afternoon sweeping up dead pine needles. I had a much faster way to dispose of this problem.
We had a large balcony, and the Christmas tree fit perfectly through the sliding glass door. So, I dragged it out, dangled it over the railing, and told Marieta to hold it. This started a fight, of course. But by then, it was too late. Next, I ran downstairs to make sure no one was walking on the sidewalk below. Gee, it would really suck for someone to be walking outside and then….whomp!….be seriously injured (or killed) by a falling Christmas tree. What exactly would one write on the Death Certificate? When the coast was clear below, Marieta pushed the tree off the railing, and it fell to the ground. Gravity worked,
Well, there was a little problem. I didn’t realize air currents catch the branches. So, plunging on the way down, it nicked a few of the railings and tumbled a few times over the lower balconies. Fortunately, no one at that instant stepped outside, or there might have been a decapitation. That was a really long ten seconds. The Christmas tree floated and then fell onto the sidewalk (no, I didn’t leave it there — I dragged it into the dumpster).
Christmas tree clean up done! Problem solved!
I snapped this photo just as Marieta was about to let the tree go and fall to the ground.
Yeah, I know this all sounds like the opening scene to a Paul Thomas Anderson movie, doesn’t it? Someone living on a lower floor glances out the window and sees a Christmas tree falling from above. Or worse, the person walks outside later and finds a dead Christmas tree on their balcony. Impossible? Next, watch it start raining frogs.
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Note: This is day 14 of the “Every Picture Tells a Story” series.