Playing Santa Claus - the second most powerful, fictional character in the human history right after Jesus Christ – has been one of the weirdest, yet awarding jobs I have ever had.
What made this particular assignment different to all those shopping mall Santas operating on the ground was that my throne situated two-hundred and twenty metres above sea level on top of Sky Tower in Auckland, the biggest city of New Zealand.
Being slightly underweight and youngish for the part, I had to change my voice much lower and pad my belly with pillows. The only visible body parts that could have given my true age away, my eyes, were masked with a pair of reading goggles, and the other two, my hands, were covered with white gloves. The cooler packs lined up against my chest underneath the costume could have been mistaken for a bullet vest. The subtropical Christmas felt just wrong, yet I tried to keep my patronising, Arctic opinions to myself.
The great expertise and professionalism of my elves helped to give me a smooth start. Their entertainment skills kept the families busy and distracted, while my fresh and inexperienced foreign tongue got tangled and stuck in the synthetic beard.
Once I became more comfortable delivering the basic routine and asking the kids “If they’ve been good this year?” and “What they want for Christmas?”, I tried to take my performance to the next level. I started pretending that I was the real Santa from Finland. The families visiting seemed to find that somewhat different and exotic. I could tell them realistic tales about Lapland, while mixing up my stories with a few Finnish phrases, not forgetting to shout out the usual “Ho! Ho! Ho!”
My knee got to feel the weight of not just all those thousands of kids from around the world, but also some beige-covered, white-haired cruise ship passengers during their quick stopover as a part of their journey across the Pacific; and numerous backpackers as a starting point for their pilgrimage to explore the natural wonders the versatile country has to offer; and local families wanting to do something special (or usual) to celebrate their summery Christmas period.
In every quiet moment, I could just turn my head and admire the magnificent views to Auckland Central Business District, Waitemata Harbour, Devonport Island and the volcanoes of Mount Eden and Rangitoto. Apart from the scorching sun in the middle of December, everything else seemed just absolutely perfect.
When I thought the rest of the festive season would be just plain sailing, I was being offered another challenge. The tower hosted an exclusive Christmas party for about three hundred notable guests, and a PR stunt called Sky Jump - base jump on a wire off the tower - was one of the entertainment options on the table, if the current performer (myself) would consent. Like my throne, the departure platform of Sky Jump was also situated about two-hundred metres above sea level.
The highest I had ever jumped until then was off a five-metre diving board legs first straight into the pool. Now, though, the increase in altitude added up to forty times to my previous record - and I wasn’t even given guarantees whether the costume would stay on or not!
The circumstances were ideal for one of my worst and the most recurring nightmares to come true, where I would find myself naked in the strangest of places - and this time, tangling bare in front of the country’s cream of the crop and the city population underneath. For some reason, this potential public humiliation was my main concern, not the actual survival of the jump or even a successful landing.
The adrenaline junkies organising these head-spinning and gut-wrenching jumps did their utmost to convince me that the costume would not come off during the flight. They had experience of securing the most peculiar stag do and birthday party costumes, apparently, with a good success rate.
The icing on the cake was the announcement that the fresh Prime Minister at the time, John Key, and his most recent predecessor, Helen Clark, both would attend the party, and that TVNZ cameras would potentially film the jump live as well.
Not that I was that desperate for fame (but a little bit), and technically, it would not be me jumping but Santa Claus. Yet, I thought this may be the closest I ever get to a country ruler, and if I was to come down alive, I could tell this story to future generations and maybe even write a blog post about it.
So, I went and agreed to do it.
As the moment of truth arrived, I was taken to the waiting area. The staff started meticulously dress my costume over the harness that had a cable attached to the back. The trousers, jacket and gloves were all joined together and then stitched onto my undergarment with a thread and needle. A tight elastic band hidden underneath the hat supported my hair and beard.
Just standing on that departure platform and feeling the warm breeze would have made my day. But I was expected to do more; to take the leap of faith. They say the first step into the unknown is the hardest. My heart jumped to my throat once the free fall began. I tried to spread my arms as if I was a big, red and hairy eagle.
Within a first few seconds, though, the ride came to a halt. I remained tangling in front of the observation deck where all the guests were partying behind a row of floor-to-ceiling plexiglasses. Completely caught by surprise, they all turned to stare at me.
For good five minutes, I must have hung there in front of them like a skinned duck behind the window of a Chinese restaurant. Although, I believed I was still covered by some fabric, rather than marinade. I vaguely saw someone waving at me and I waved back. I wanted to think I made an eye-contact with - at least - one of the PMs, but I am not sure. It was really hard to get a good look at anything really from behind that bushy, windswept beard. There were so many of them as well, and sometimes all politicians look the same from the distance: lots of grey suits and less hair. Also, the fact that I was hanging over a big city only by a thin wire, didn’t help my concentration.
As I looked down, I saw little humans size of ants far below marching their daily errands. Yet, I felt far from a superhero. All I wanted was it to be over.
Suddenly, the free fall continued. This was the brief, ten-second moment when I really felt the speed and complete freedom. My hat and hair did come off during the descent, although they remained attached around my neck with that securing elastic band. They flapped against my back like a little cape. I spotted the television cameras waiting for me near the landing area. I really thought I could fly after all.
Once I touched the ground and composed myself, I put my hair and hat quickly back on and patted my chest and belly. The outfit was still on me. I felt instant pride of my achievement, even though I was just a guy in a costume. After all, it must have been a great day in the history of New Zealand’s news broadcasting, second only to sheep shearing Shrek.
Coincidentally, around the same time the following year, I found myself again in the same role on the other side of the world in Lapland UK, which was a full service, Christmas-themed park in the heart of South England. Lapland UK was truly magical and offered one of the best Christmas experiences available in the temperate maritime climate, notwithstanding its sudden closure for a couple of days due to heavy snow.
But that’s again another story…