SantaCon

  
I always manage to be in New York on the night of Santacon.  I don't know how this happens but every year on a Saturday afternoon right before Christmas as I wait on the platform for the train at whichever station I happen to be at, there are inevitably crowds of people, mostly in their early twenties, dressed as Santa or Santa's slutty lady friend, usually drunk and falling over or singing Christmas carols loudly and off-key.  I am so lucky.

This weekend wasn't as bad as it's been in the past, mainly because my friend and I stayed far away from the West Village (last December, Washington Square Park was seriously trashed in a majorly sad and wet toilet papered kind of way), but we were still able to see our share of Santacon celebrants.  There were droopy Grinches, Cindy Lou Whos, Buddy the Elfs, reindeer, and even one streetwalker-ish Mrs. Claus (there were probably more but we were distracted by the Santas walking in front of taxis and buses--seriously).

I don't think there's ever been a time when I felt so carefree that I would go walk around a city completely obliterated wearing clothes resembling lingerie and screaming at strangers in the street.  I guess I'm just not that kind of gal, but looking at this poor girl who was next to me on the ride home, I think I'm okay with that. xo