Too many Santas

So, I've been on a lot of pub crawls. But there is one with a very special place in my liver. And that is SantaCon.

I'd heard rumors about this phenomenon for some time after moving to Portland, but it wasn't until attending a reading by Chuck Palahniuk at Powell's downtown (which reminds me of another adventure I'll have to tell you) that I got some juicy details. He was promoting his latest book, Fugitives and Refugees, when he told a story of Windex and mobbing the Lloyd Center. It was a holiday tale about Santa and I wanted in.

It was a couple years later that I happened upon a blurb in the Willamette Week telling me about the upcoming event. Finally! I knew when and where to go to join in on this madness.

Sadly, it was a rouse, in classic Con style.

About 50 Santas showed up in Hillsboro, at the end of the Max line. No leadership, no plan. Just a bunch of milling about being watched by some nearby cops. After waiting around awkwardly for a while, someone took the initiative and lead us to a bar. And soon we were hopping from one dive to another. We were eventually notified, in a very discreet manner, that we had been SantaConned, and that the real event was next week, downtown.

I was dying for the authentic experience.

When I went, I didn't yet own a Santa suit. I had a Santa hat with beard attached, a t-shirt with a Christmas/Santa slogan, and little hope of blending in. But I brought the gift of liquor (shhhhhh! at least the bottle was wrapped like a present, it even had one of those stick on bows) and a ton of enthusiasm to participate and help out as much as possible. I started meeting and befriending the inner circle of troublemakers and mayhem stirrers who call themselves the Cacophony Society and started down a long road of new adventures.

This year I attended my fifth annual con.

Like that first year, SantaCon splintered into several events, run by different societies. And despite a host of options, multiple happening each Saturday of December, I was only interested in two.

The first was Anticon, the North Portland version of Santa that originally started as a way of escaping the "downtown mayhem" by following the Max Yellow Line down Insterstate. This was my first year attending the NoPo classic. As tradition states, we met at the Paul Bunyan statue. The small park was roughly divided between Santas and the rival bananas, but a good deal of  cookie, candy, and alcohol sharing fostered healthy camaraderie. After visiting our first bar, we headed over to Mayor Sam Adams house. There we were given a lovely speech about the unique fun that Portland can have without drinking in public (wink, wink). Which reminds me of the other time I met the mayor (a tale for another day). From there, we had a death march to our next location and had a lovely lunch at a Chinese restaurant while waiting out the rain.

We were then supposed to meet at another bar, but were tempted into The Office, a small dive that may one day grow up to become a strip club. Only had a couple other santas, so we took off for the official location. I spotted some friends and the next thing I know I'm in a tug-of-war using sheets tied together. Seems the line was meant to be divided between bananas and santas and I was on the wrong end. I flipped to the other side and we tugged until the sheets snapped and knocked the drunken revelers over like dominoes.

Santa then headed to The Tardis Room, which, unsurprisingly, is much larger on the inside, and we were divided into many different little parties. Eventually we moved on to the Dancing Bear Bare where santa let all the good little girls sit in his lap to talk about (deep, dark) desires. Let's just say the rest of the night is censored. Oh, except for dancing to a live band.

The following Saturday, Santa gathered again, this time downtown. We were running a little behind and missed the initial santa gathering spot. But we soon found everyone congregating at Dante's. Great venue, but only two bartenders verses a couple hundred santi resulted in me spending the majority of my time waiting in line for the one drink I had before leaving. Marching to a nearby park, we had a tug-of-war, this time with a right-proper rope. My side was winning, so the other santas tied their end of the rope to a lamp post. Not to be out done, we did the same on our side. Soon everybody/nobody was winning. I'm just glad we didn't destroy anything. I then helped by leading a contingent across the street to the Big Pink, but we were kicked out before even a dozen santas entered. We were only going to march through! No trouble, right guys? Still friends?

Kelly's Olympian was the next stop, but it's such a small joint that a group of us splintered off around the corner to the Rialto. Much bigger space, far fewer santas, and much less clothing. I, uncharacteristically, stayed pretty well dressed until we made it to our next destination: O'Bryant Square. I have partaken in many a rubber band and other battles here. But my most epic showdown was about to begin. A fight against the living mannequin at the men's underwear store across the street. I stripped to my santa boxers, flexed, and posed until a woman gave me a dollar. I win!

Visited a very crowded Mary's next (are Mary's and the Dancing Bare related or did the same person do both of their web sites?) but was soon tempted to visit the Glowing Greens for the best/worst round of miniature golf ever. This was a side mission where about ten or so santas load up in a van and leave the rest of the group behind. We did this again later for a karaoke stint at Chopsticks, a place where santa (not this santa) had gotten us into a bit of trouble a couple years ago. In between we hung out at Embers with the staff we know and love so well. But then my wife and I retired for the evening. Santa and Mrs. Claus had enough of the crowds and now just needed each other's company.