Well, let me amend that. He wasn't little, and he didn't have drums. And he certainly wasn't drumming out the cadence of the famous "Little Drummer Boy" song.
Still, it was the closest thing to a Christmas concert I saw at the Experience that evening. The country band was playing a song I'd never heard, the siren girls were all bundled up, the Christmas tree had no Santa, and there were no elves to be found anywhere.
But there was this drummer. And he was loud, banging out a consistent but unfamiliar cadence on a few inverted plastic buckets.
This being the "Season," I dropped five bucks into his blue pail. "Thank you!" he said, barely audible above his bangeddy-bang whacking of the buckets.
I felt good. And my ears have recovered; they feel a lot better today.
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