Since Christmas is on a Thursday this year, I won't get to write a "Throwback Thursday" piece on the actual day, so I'm writing it today. Deal with it. It can be "Throwback Wednesday" for once this year...
The year was 1995 and my life was at something of a crossroads. I had graduated college previous May and was working at a job that had nothing to do with what I really wanted to be doing at all. It was a milk lab of all things; I basically spent my days sorting through various forms of milk for quality assurance testing. The people I worked with were nice enough, but it was a dull, laborious job to say the least.
My personal life was a bit of a shambles as well. I had married young and not really of my own volition. My girlfriend at the time got pregnant, so I "did the right thing" and married her. The marriage didn't last long, a little over a year, and we had a young son that she was doing her level best to use as a weapon against me. So, when Christmas rolled around that year, as you can guess I wasn't in the most festive of moods.
Little did I know that some true Christmas magic was in the cards for me that year. On Christmas Eve a dramatic mood shift swept over me, and it came from a most unexpected source. A good friend of mine, Bill, invited me to a small get together at his friend's house; a girl I knew named Johanna...but I myself wasn't really friends with her. I agreed because I had nothing better to do, and what harm could a few drinks and some good company do?
We arrived at Johanna's and there were already a few people milling about, doing the typical holiday party thing. I grabbed a beer and retreated to the most anti-social corner of the room that I could find. I tend to be a people watcher, especially when I'm in a bad mood...and even more so when I don't know many of the people in a given social setting. So, I took to watching the vivacious Johanna flit and float about the room, brightening everyone's spirits. Her mood and overall demeanor fascinated me because Johanna is Jewish, not that it matters, really, but I distinctly recall thinking two things as I observed her: 1. Why the hell is she enjoying Christmas so much? and 2. If she can find a way to have a good time tonight, why the hell can't I?
I ruminated on those questions as I finished my first beer and grabbed another. It was then that I decided to remove myself from the anti-social corner of the room and actually join the party proper. It was a wise decision as I was quickly sucked into a conversation that made me forget all my troubles and worries and helped me find some remnant of my Christmas spirit that had been seriously lacking up until that point.
It wasn't until later, after the party had wound down and just Bill, Johanna, and I remained that the Christmas of '95 was truly brought to another level for me. Johanna asked us if we knew who Mr. Bean was. Being something of an Anglophile, I had certainly heard of Rowan Atkinson and his most famous character, Mr. Bean, but I had never seen any of the shows, unfortunately.
"Omigod, you guys have to watch this! It is the funniest thing ever," she squealed enthusiastically as popped a VHS tape in her VCR. Yes, it was that long ago. Shut up.
With that, "Merry Christmas, Mr. Bean" began to play in totally not HD. I soon realized that Johanna was indeed correct. This show was just about the funniest thing ever. I laughed until I cried at least three times. The first time happened when Bean is caught playing with the toy display at Harrods. The second occurrence of joyful water flowing from my eyes struck when he is conducting the Christmas band, and the third came about when he somehow manages to get the stupidly massive turkey stuck on his head.
I was actually sad when it ended, so I asked Johanna to rewind it to the Harrods bit once again. We all laughed almost as hard as we did when we watched it the first time around. It is just a classic bit of (physical? Mime? A bit of both?) comedy that you just need to see yourself to appreciate; a description alone does not do it justice.
I felt so much better when I left Johanna's house that night. I remember it distinctly...it was as if a terrible, dead weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and all it really took was the goofy antics of an English twit who cares little for no one other than himself. Funny how things work like that sometimes.
To this day, I watch "Merry Christmas, Mr. Bean" every holiday season and it never fails to make me laugh, although not as hard or as long as that first viewing. My 9-year-old daughter has become a big Mr. Bean fan as well, and she insisted that we watch it every night during the week leading up to Christmas. How could I deny a request like that? Even though she can pretty much recite every part of the show to you before each joke and gag happens, I still get a kick out of watching it with her. Her enthusiasm for it, and all things Christmas related really, is rather infectious.
For those of you haven't seen this Christmas classic, I strongly suggest that you do. It is 26 minutes and 28 seconds of pure comedy gold, which has something of a heart-wrenching twist ending that I won't give away here, but it does work perfectly. The full episode is embedded below. Enjoy...and Merry Christmas!
