I've never liked Jack in the Boxes … Jacks in the Box. Whatever. I'm kind of like Will Ferrell in "Elf," cranking really slow and cringing mightily when it's time for Jack to pop out of his box.

I'm talking about a different Jack in the Box, the one with the big white ball for a head, cone-shaped nose, huge red smile and pointy yellow hat. Still creepy.

I was driving home from my parents' house as Christmas Eve gave way to Christmas morning, when "what to my wondering eyes should appear?"

No, there was no sleigh, no tiny reindeer. What I did see was a humongous line at a Jack in the Box drive-through. Seriously.

I was heading west on Thomas Road, and when I passed the Jack at 36th-ish Street, I was stunned to see like 15 cars waiting to place their orders. It was right about midnight and the line was all the way out to the street.

I didn't even know anything was open that late on Christmas Eve. Or was it that early on Christmas morning? Same difference.

I guess the occupants of those 15 cars had visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads. You know, I've always wondered what a sugarplum looked like, but I never thought it could be confused with a Sourdough Jack. Until now.