What Would Santa Con Be Like If Everyone Was Sober?
I don’t want to badmouth Santa Con because it’s been done to death. We all know a number of bars and restaurants put signs in their windows banning Santa Con’s Jolly Saint Nicks from being Jolly Saint Dicks and we know a ton of locals roll their eyes when they witness 40 year old former frat bros vomit in the street before they retire back to their cushy corporate jobs to continue robbing the world.
But instead of continuing to shit on the Santas, I want to consider what SantaCon could be if everyone there took a vow of sobriety while attending the event.
In my estimation, nothing would kill Santa Con quicker than people being sober enough to comprehend that if a city that promotes quirkiness is filled with businesses that preemptively seek to ban you, then maybe you suck.
But I could be wrong. It could be amazing. Let’s examine both possible realities: one where Sober SantaCon is amazing, and another where it’s worse.
Good:
You wake up at 7 am, not too early, but definitely early, and you’re feeling good. You look out the window of your quiet cul-de-sac and you say to yourself “I’m going to dress like Santa with strangers in San Francisco. Man, am I a silly goose? Hee Hee?” You think about driving but ultimately decide against it because you’re no dummy. You’ve seen the news reports about San Francisco’s car break ins or “bipping” epidemic, so you take BART. You want to show the world you’re not some suburban Santa, you’re a community Claus. You take a sip of Folgers Coffee, and even the extreme bitterness of the acidic caffeinated ass juice in your cup can’t tame the fire in your heart.
You put on your Santa costume and your son runs up to you and says, “Daddy, why are you dressed as Santa?” And you say, “Son, I’m meeting with Santa at his headquarters in San Francisco so I can negotiate better gifts for you.” Your son smiles and asks you to get Santa’s autograph. You promise him that you will. You kiss your wife on the cheek and head to BART. As you arrive at the station, you marvel at how clean it is. After about 10 minutes, the train arrives filled with Santas all headed in the same direction. You don’t know them, but you do, they’re all different versions of you. You get on the train and hear great conversations all the way to the City. You get there, and because SantaCon in this parallel universe isn’t a ton of morons, you’re not banned from entering anywhere and you can explore the City and spend money and everyone is generally stoked you’re there. You make friends, have conversations that you’ll actually remember. Swap contact info. Lifelong friends. Ho. Ho Ho.
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Bad:
You wake up at 7 am in your empty apartment. You look at your phone and Facebook shows you a photo from 3 years ago with your ex who you’re not completely over. The caption says “Forever <3” It wasn’t. You walk to your closet and look at the Santa costume hanging there. It’s dusty as fuck. You sigh and say to yourself “my therapist said I have to go out more. This technically counts.” You put it on. You go to the City. Everyone is dressed like Santa and it’s not fun. No one is drunk and no one knows each other. You all just walk around, play on your phone and after a few hours you go home because no one really knows how to socialize without the help of alcohol. But you did take a ton of selfies. You get home and you think to yourself “this event would be better if I was drunk.” So you walk to the liquor store near your house and you get drunk.
Does that sound fun? Let people have fun.
Here’s the thing: Hating on SantaCon is dumb. Most people have lives closer to the second example than the first, and acting like an asshole to a group of people trying to blow off steam and make memories is annoying. Also, SantaCon started in San Francisco, it’s not like it was made by a ton of rich transplants. The tradition started in 1994 and has spread to several different cities.
Let people enjoy it. Also large groups of people are getting drunk and being obnoxious in San Francisco all the time. The cool thing about SantaCon is they’re wearing a uniform. You technically know who to avoid.
Happy Holidays.
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Howdy! My name is Katy Atchison and I'm an Associate Editor for Broke-Ass Stuart.
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