12/23/2025
’Twas the day of Festivus, all through the shop,
Not a creature was stirring—not even the mop.
(The airing could wait; as the pole stood tall,
But snow in the forecast trumped it all.)
The shovels hung ready, lined up with care,
In hopes that some snowfall soon filled the air.
The plows, brooms, and blowers were eager to show,
New blade edges and broom heads all itching for snow.
All snow-fighting gear was tucked snugly inside,
With visions of snow ridges they soon would divide.
And in his snow bibs, ’s coat zipped up tight,
Were mentally bracing for one long night.
When out on the airfield—just what did we see?
The first tiny flakes falling free and glee!
leapt up from his chair with a shout,
“Well THAT didn’t take long,” as he hurried about.
flew to the window like snowstorm-born flash,
Flung open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the snow with its sparkly glow,
Made runway lights look like a daytime show.
When what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a sand truck, two brooms, and a plow truck in gear.
With a driver so lively, so smooth and so quick,
I knew in a moment was bringing the braking action back quick!
More rapid than eagles those machines took the stage,
As called them out like a snow-clearing sage:
“Now BROOM THREE! BROOM FOUR! PLOW FIVE—don’t stall!
On ECHO TRUCK! OSH TWO! LOADER TWO—clear it all!
LOADER THREE! OSH SIX! Let’s tackle the snow!
To the runway! The ramps! Make that snowfall go!”
Like snow that gets bullied by wind when it flies,
They shoved every drift till it waved goodbye.
Up from the tower the airplanes still flew,
Thanks to an amazing snow-busting crew.
Then out on the shift came the sound we all know—
The scrape and the rumble of plows in a staggered row.
Down Taxiway Delta came with a bound,
Because snow gets pushed every time we come around.
was bundled from his head to his boots,
Covered in snow from his head to his roots.
The piles they’d pushed back stood tall with such pride,
Like lumpy snowmen lined up runway-side.
’s eyes—how they twinkled! ’s nose—bright red!
grinned through a beard that was snow-frosted instead.
zig-zagged the ramps, neat paths in a trance,
Dodging bright lamps like a snow-plow dance.
Tower chimed in: “You’re clear—nice job out there!”
raised his coffee like a badge of care.
Steam haloed his head in the cold winter glow,
Proof that caffeine is vital in snow.
grinned wide, mission clearly fulfilled:
“Runway 9R is done! And turnoffs cleared.”
said nothing—just fueled up the fleet,
Because legends don’t talk; they just clear and repeat.
tipped his brow, climbed back in to plow,
“Tag—you’re it,” it’s his turn now.
whistled his team, engines roared with delight,
And off they all flew through the snow-filled night.
But we heard them all shout as they drove out of sight:
“HAPPY FESTIVUS TO ALL—AND TO PILOTS A SAFE FLIGHT!” 🎉✈️
