Welp, it appears it’s once again that special time of the year: The Holidays. Now, if your a cheap-prick like me, you often romanticize about the holiday season, only to be faced with the utmost animosity towards it once it actually arrives. This is of course for solely financial reasons, and in my case, the blame can almost entirely be directed towards SantaCon. Yes, SantaCon, the one day of the year where you can walk around Manhattan in a Santa suit and not be accused of being a pedophile.
One of my multiple sources of my monetary hardship during the holiday season stems from my extreme love for getting wasted in costume, and SantaCon exploits that every single year. It’s all fun and games until you remember that Manhattan is the most expensive place in the world, and that every bar has at least a 20 dollar cover. For those lucky souls who haven’t had the displeasure of attending SantaCon, I’ll quickly recap some of these unforeseen expenses:
$30 Santa Suit
$25 train ticket into Manhattan
$15 Charity donation
$20 covers to get into bars
$50 in Uber’s
A whole day of having to buy things in random shops just to use their bathroom: Priceless.
I drank so much overpriced NYC booze that I ended up walking around the middle of Harlem at 4:30 in the morning trying to find a Juul charger, and I don’t even own a Juul. It’s a God-damn Christmas miracle I didn’t get stabbed.
Anyways, the fact of the matter is: this supposedly charitable event is the biggest scam of all time, and year after year I not only get talked into attending this shindig, but actually LOOK FORWARD TO GOING. I’m not religious, but someone once told me that Jesus wasn’t even born in December, and I am starting to believe it. I’m pretty sure the only reason they threw Christmas into this sorry excuse for a month was to stop everyone from killing themselves once they reassess all of the shitty things that have happened to them over the year. The end of the year really has a way of reminding you just how much of a lazy piece of dog shit you are, as you probably didn’t accomplish 75% of the things that you said you were gonna do.
But with the New Year comes new hope. Although this brief sense of false hope will inevitably turn into more unfulfillment and broken promises, I guess you still gotta give it the old college try. Anyways, back to the topic of discussion, Santacon. This shit is the worst thing that has every happened to the holidays, and it robs more presents than the Grinch, specifically from the family members of alcoholics such as myself. I always leave the city a broken man, and the biggest mistake that I make every God-damn year is not buying my “loved ones” gifts prior to attending the SantaCon. Of course, I inevitably blow all my money, resulting in me once again buying everyone that I know the cheapest and shittiest gifts ever placed under a Christmas tree. SantaCon always finds a way of fucking me, and it’s truly amazing how fast I go from being a jolly old saint Nick, to turning into fucking Ebenezer Scrooge. Bah-hum-bug.