An Open Letter: Get Rid of Santacon

I love Christmas.

I love day drinking.

But some wretched souls have turned the wonderful combination of the two into a terrible, no… a miserable day that all of downtown Manhattan loathes… no, abhors. That day is SantaCon. 

Let me tell you something.

On most weekends, I like to attempt to be a productive member of society. I wake up at a decent hour (by decent I mean before or after 12PM depending on heavily I drank the night before). I venture to the gym. I run my errands. I go home. I eat. I prepare for whatever the night has in store for me.

On the other weekends, that I am not a productive member of society, I flip the bird to the notion, stay in bed hungover, or if the occasion calls, I day drink. But that’s the fun of day drinking… its during the day and something is sexy and cool and coy (just kidding, who am I kidding, day drinking is always super sloppy) about it because its not the night time and 90% of the people around you are probably still sober. Needless to say, I am a fan of day drinking.

You know what I’m not a fan of? Nearly slipping in Santa puke.

As is customary every year, Santa Con rolls around and every bro, and their counterparts in the tri-state area buys a Santa hat, or god forbid, a Santa suit, and parades around downtown (usually in my neighborhood). They, in their red suit and rosey cheeks, walk around with reckless abandon, irreverent to THE Santa Clause and THE real holiday spirit. By 3PM if you find yourself walking in the sea of red, white and bros in the East Village bar crawl, you’ll see glazed over eyes, sloppy Mrs. Clauses, and elves ready for a nap.

You are often greeted with a hardy, “Sit on Santa’s lap!” “Come slide down my chimney!” or “Smile! Its the Holiday spirit!” typically followed by a “FUCK YOU” or vicious side eye or a curse under your breath.

Here are a few reasons why I think Santa Con is literally THE WORST idea anyone has ever had.

  • Bars. What happens if I don’t want my regular bar to be packed with Santa-douches? I have to give up my spot for a weekend just so some couple thousand people can get obliterated and trudge through town in a Santa Suit? I think not.
  • Overcrowding. I already think Manhattan is too crowded. I’m sure everyone can also account for running into exes / ex flames regularly. Now, condense everyone in lower Manhattan. BAM! BAM! BAM! They’re everywhere. Santa Con is always an excuse for people from Jersey, Connecticut, etc. to stay the weekend in the city, trash and destroy it, and peace out. Do you like feeling used and abused NYC? They don’t even make you breakfast in the morning, NYC.
  • High Testosterone. What else happens when a bunch of guys get together and sports aren’t involved? Well. A lot of drinking. A lot of fighting. A lot of inappropriate things.
  • Drunk People. Santa Con is literally the one day where its acceptable to be a drunk fool all day… even moreso than Halloween. Like, that is the sole purpose. Do you know what I’d rather do than deal with a city full of drunk people? I dont know… get hit in the face with a shovel. Honestly.
  • Dirty. The East Village after SantaCon is TRASHED. There is literally puke everywhere. Discarded Santa hats, outfits (what did they go home in, I don’t know), beards, shoes, skirts, etc. I don’t like seeing my neighborhood trashed.
  • Lawlessness. Do you know whats frightening? SantaCon is the one day where everybody… EVERYBODY dresses up the same, thereby holding no one responsible for their actions, pretty much.
  • Public Bathrooms. HA. Forget trying to have a nice dinner out downtown during Santa Con! It will be overrun by Santas needing to use their bathrooms. And if you’re one of those frequent pee-ers, I suggest you venture nowhere near Santa Con as any public bathroom is bound to look like a third world country erupted all over it.
Precisely my thoughts on the matter.

Feel free to call me the Grinch. I hate Santa Con. I always have and I always will I’m sure. Literally, would rather be attacked by leeches than partake in Santa Con. I will say though, a few things actually make me very curious. Take for example, a lone Santa spotted drifting far and away from his pack. What’s his story? How many drinks did he have to get to that place? Will he ever find them again? Are his friends worried that they lost him? Also, the Mrs. Clauses / sexy elves that decide to wear booty shorts and whatever else they contend to be their outfit… at what number of drinks are they no longer cold? Which Santa are they trying to impress? Do they know what ‘trying too hard’ means? What do their fathers think? And then, there is the often seen Santa Claus passed out. Did he have a good breakfast this morning? I wonder if he was a lightweight in college? Do you think his parents worry about him? Does he have a good job? What would his bosses think if they saw him laying on the sidewalk, drool across the face and Santa costume askew? Does someone love him? Lastly, the most puzzling scene – when two Santas breaking out in a fightDon’t they know the meaning of the Holidays? Are they fighting over Mrs. Claus? What was the straw that broke the camel’s back? Who wins? Do they know each other? What could you possibly be fighting about when you are wearing a goddamn red suit and hat?

Anyways. Fuck you Santa Con. Go lay in a ditch somewhere. And for you, a parting gift by yours truly (of course).

On the twelfth day of Christmas Manhattan gave to me: 

Twelve Santas drinking.
Eleven Mrs. Clauses weeping.
Ten Santa beards laying.
Nine bars packing.
Eight people puking.
Seven obliterated Santas singing.
Six fights happening.
Five golden streams.
Four calling the cops.
Three vomit covered benches.
Two bros brawling.
and a Santa passed out on the street.


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