Frank Braveliver, Department Store Santa

​I was going through a pretty rough time about six years ago. I was manic and not sleeping for days at a time. I didn't have much work and that's never a good thing for me. I need to always be working. Always.

I went on CraigsList and saw an ad that said, 'Do your friends think you're crazy? Has anybody in your family ever tried to get you committed? Well, then, you should be a Duck Captain!'

I became the grumpy Scotsman, Captain Braveliver, who was heavy on the history, didn't sing or dance, and didn't do any quacking games. The people that got me thought I was hilarious. The people that didn’t sent in complaints. Now we have a driver and a tour guide and I just drive, which is fine, because believe it or not, driving a WWII-inspired amphibious vehicle through downtown Seattle and out onto the busiest fresh water lake in America is WAY less stressful than entertaining 150 people who are all expecting something different. 
 
A few years ago Ride the Ducks did a Holiday Tour, a land-only 40-minute tour out of Westlake Center that toured the Christmas lights Downtown. It was supposed to be singing Christmas carols or whatever, but they let me do the tour as Frank, a department store Santa who hated Christmas and hated kids. 
 
After all the passengers were loaded, I would come up the stairs yelling, ‘HO HO HO!! Merry Christmas!! Oh, what FUN!!’
 
Then I’d pause for effect and take off my fake beard and confess, ‘Okay, I’m not really Santa. My name is Frank at I work at Macy’s.’ Then I’d pull out my fake belly, which was a hemorrhoid pillow, and put it on my seat. ‘Look. I’m just one of Santa’s helpers. Santa’s busy making toys up at the North Pole so a bunch of us are down here filling in for him. We’re all members of BFD (Bearded Fat Dudes) Local 86, United We Santa!’ I’d say throwing a fist in the air. ‘Oh, wait, you need to be facing North when you say that… United We Santa!’
 
I’d drive by Nordstrom and I’d yell, ‘Hey kids! Who’s that?!?’ They’d all yell, ‘SANTA!’ and I’d say, ‘…nooo, that’s Larry! I told you, Santa’s still up in the North Pole! Hi, Larry! United We Santa!’
 
I drove my mostly un-amused passengers around for 40 minutes bitching about how Christmas has gotten too religious and then I’d try selling them on Scottish Buddhism. I know I got a lot of complaints and I didn’t make any tips AT ALL, but it was fun. 
 
We ran tours a couple days after Christmas so I went to the Goodwill and got some surfer shorts. Frank was going to Hawaii, baby! But there wasn’t a very good selection of shorts in December so I had to get a pair that was about five sizes to small. They were so tight I couldn’t button them or even wear underpants. I made my way up to the front of the duck and did my whole, ‘HO HO HO! Merry Christmas!’ bit when the shorts failed and almost exposed myself to a bunch of kids and their grandmothers. At the end of the tour I carefully made my way to the back and dropped the stairs but didn’t bother going down first to accept tips. 
 
 
I have a friend who photographs kids with Santa and she hooked me up with the guy who places Santas all over the Northwest. They make a shitload of money and parents will love me ‘cause I’ll talk kids out of being materialist little shitheads. It was too late to do it this year, but next year…
 
United We Santa!

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