Midnight Madness

Bedford Falls, aka St. Michaels, allowed us our first ‘Midnight Madness in St. Michaels’ experience. On the first Saturday in December, the shops and restaurants all stay open until midnight.  Discounts abound, while free wine, warm grog, and munchies are passed out to all who enter, thus creating a convivial atmosphere for spending.

Driving into town, we were met with giant lit snowflakes hanging from each lamppost. Elves must have worked through the night, because nothing was up the week, or the day, before. The shops likewise were feted for Christmas. The store windows were edged in green garlands and white lights. Color lit trees peeked out from alcoves, or stood in twin sentry at doorways. Icicle lights hung from eaves, strings of blinking lights decorated mailboxes and the occasional deer and sled twig-light collage held the attention of passersby.

The shops are well maintained; white clapboard mostly, with small windowpanes, looking for all the world like a Norman Rockwell drawing. Any minute some apple cheek freckle face kid with earmuffs and ice skates over his shoulder is going to march around the corner.  The bakery, though, is painted pink and white. No one seems to mind that it stands out because the whiffs of warm cinnamon and fresh bread are enough to override any initial nasty thought about originality in architecture. Speaking of original, no two shops sell the same products. When asked, a shopkeeper explained ‘we would all go out of business’; answers why there is only one tee shirt shop.

The sights were heartwarming and hilarious. Absolutely everyone walking the streets wore a smile. An enterprising young man, wearing a red sequin Santa hat, decorated his bicycle driven rickshaw (a “bikeshaw”) to look like a sled and, for a small fee, the world weary traveler could see the entire town.  Likewise, a cable car was ready to run up and down the street, and carolers, in full regalia, strolled and sang Christmas carols.

The local Italian/sushi bar/Polynesian restaurant sported a pitiful palm tree on its front patio with larger than life size Charlie Brown cut out characters standing around the inelegant tree. In lieu of outdoor seating, a DJ was set up to herald the skies with Christmas music. An early 'wine appreciator’ came by and insisted on singing a cappella to anyone who would listen. We gave her credit for belting out, somewhat off key, I’ll Be Home For Christmas, but all agreed she ought to keep her day job. Too, the moment might have gone better if she had remembered all the lyrics.

The Episcopal church, with its stone walls, steeple, gables and graveyard watched quietly from the edge of town.  I scurried by quickly, not wanting to appear as if I was apartment hunting.