My baptism by beer into my new San Francisco life came yesterday in the form of Santacon 2006: San Francisco Santarchy.
Leslie and I spent Friday night preparing our Santa garb.
We went at 9AM on Saturday to meet up with the other East Bay Santas and take the ferry into the city. On the way, we were stopped by a Japanese couple who wanted a picture with the crazy locals. I was excited to officially be a crazy local.
On the ferry, Leslie broke in her beard.
And an elf sang in honor of the rainbow that appeared over Alcatraz as we neared the city.
When we got to Pier 39, we met up with a whole mob of Santas, many of whom took advantage of the “Santas ride for half-price” deal at the carousel.
From there, Santas wheezed up a very long hill…
Squealed gleefully down a curvy road…
And played a disorderly game of Twister in the park.
More beer, and then some more beer after that, and then Santacon commandeered the Hustler Club, which is where Leslie and I finally parted ways with our newfound Santa family. Oh, and Leslie twisted her ankle because she ignored the one piece of advice given to us by a veteran Santarchist: Don’t drink so much that you fall down.
Too bad Christmas only comes once a year.