A number of years ago, I had a job working for a local contractor. One of our regular jobs each holiday season was to string Christmas lights on some of our client's houses.

It was only a few days before the 25th and our boss instructed my pal Tony and me to put one last decoration on top of a garage roof before he drove off hurriedly (the way he always did before a difficult or undesirable job was about to begin.) After he had left, Tony said "Don't worry your head, I know exactly what he wants done."

This did not temper the worry factor for me because this particular client was by far our wealthiest and our most intimidating. The garage was a six-bay monster with a very delicate tile roof. In each bay was an exquisitely restored showcar, from a gorgeous 1975 Corvette and several makes of very rare sportcars that I had never seen before, to a spectacular '65 Lincoln Limo.

Tony lifted the tarp from the decoration the boss had left to reveal a big metal and wooden cross, nearly six feet from end to end and at least eight feet tall, festooned with colored bulbs, the whole affair mounted on a thru-piece of three-inch metal pipe. "All we have to do is get this thing up there and pop it through the hole in the ridge."

I whined at Tony about the cars inside, "Can't we get the caretaker to move them out, just for a few minutes?" Tony grumped, "He's not here so that's not going to happen, just get yourself over here."

I helped him wrestle the 100 plus lb. cross up onto his shoulder and steadied the ladder as he climbed up onto the fragile cement tiles. I made a joke about how he should really know what Jesus would do now and he shot back,

"Just get inside and catch this thing when I stuff it in the hole."

In the garage I gingerly maneuvered the ladder around the Corvette and found the ceiling access hole directly over the trunk of the Lincoln Limo. I leaned the ladder against the wall and unhappily eased a new cotton tarp over the back of the car, then I poked the end of the ladder into the access hole, pushing the lid open until it stuck in position.

I gingerly made my way up to where Tony was waiting on the roof above. His muffled voice came through the ridge hole, "Are you ready to catch this thing, it's starting to rain and this thing isn't getting any lighter."

He dropped the decoration in the hole and while I wrenched the nuts down, I began humming a little gospel tune to calm Tony down.

I finished and yelled, "OK PAL, We're all set.. I'll meet you outside."

I heard Tony acknowledge, so I plugged the cords together and made for the opening in the ceiling where the ladder was protruding through the hole.

But just as I reached the fourth rung from the top, the ladder feet slipped on the epoxy-painted floor and the whole thing plummeted down with me on it, towards the trunk of the perfect Lincoln Towncar.

Through some sort of divine intervention, my arms caught in the access hole and the ladder hooked miraculously on the upturned toes of my boots, less than a foot away from the classic auto underneath.

I was so surprised at my bad fortune mixed with good that at first I could only laugh. It was nearly half a minute before I realized that I was not going anywhere without help.

"TONY!" I hollered, the sound of my voice absorbing into the insulation above my head. " I'M STUUUUCK!"

I heard him throwing his ladder back into the truck and it seemed like an eternity before his footsteps brought him back into the garage. "Quit fooling around it's getting dark an...." he rounded the corner and saw my dangling feet, the ladder hanging inches from disaster.

"Omigod," he grunted as he deftly slipped between the cars and hoisted the ladder back underneath me and into the opening, "What are you trying to do, get us fired!"

I shakily finished descending the ladder while Tony pinned it to the floor with his boots. When I got to the bottom, I felt like hugging him.

"Merry Christmas Pal," I said. He eyed me and grumbled, "Yeah..sure..and thanks to me....a Happy New Year!"