Last year, while wandering St. Augustine’s Nights of Lights, I witnessed something truly…um…festively unforgettable? Yes. Let’s go with that. There, weaving through the crowds of holiday revelers in a slightly unhinged, and somehow intact golf cart, was Scrooge, shouting insults at anyone within earshot and driving as if he’d just discovered the gas pedal. Naturally, I knew immediately: this was a Christmas experience I’d have to have a front row seat for next year.

Scrooge’s holiday “spirit” was as subtle as a sledgehammer. I watched as he barked at innocent bystanders— “Move it, you Christmas fiends!” (he probably used more colorful language)—or “Bah, humbug! Get a room!” to two romantics stealing a kiss under the excessively lit town square. There was something both wildly entertaining and oddly heartwarming in the whole act. Amid all the cheer, elaborate decorations, and familiar jingles, here was a guy delivering pure, unfiltered cynicism. And it was perfect.

So, this year, I’m making it a priority. I need to board Scrooge’s chaotic sleigh (if he’ll let me) and experience the ride firsthand. Somehow, watching someone publicly complain about the holidays with such enthusiasm captures the spirit of the season better than a thousand Hallmark movies ever could. His universal familiarity draws us all in and encourages us to interact in a world where living in our own bubbles (snow globes? Sorry. I had to.) has become so easy.  My apologies in advance for any destruction of property or merriment.