If you live in New York City or know anyone who lives in New York City, you probably have an opinion on SantaCon. As snarky hipsters tell it, the annual day of drunken Santa-suit shenanigans brings out “the worst of NYC,” with “douchey bridge-and-tunnelers” puking all over Lower Manhattan’s Chase ATM kiosks and fighting each other over cabs in the middle of the street. It’s the definition of a shit-show.
But here’s the thing: It’s our shit-show. Other cities might have SantaCons, but NO WHERE is the drunken bar crawl anywhere near the level that it’s at in New York City. If you’ve ever participated, you know it’s special its own unique, Gotham way.
That’s why I’m so fucking sick of reading snarky Brooklyn hipsters — the very people contributing to the gentrification of NYC — complaining about Bros overrunning the city for a day in the name of Yuletide drinking and merry-making. You know who you are. You live in New York City: Toughen up and learn to tolerate people who are different from you. Yes, even that University of Delaware Lax Bro who majored in Business and now works back office for IBS. I know you think he’s so different from you, liberal arts major graduates of the world, but I guarantee you have more in common than you think.
See, here’s the difference between NYC Bros and yuppie scum hipsters: Like the many Bros of Hermosa Beach, where the Bros. Vs. Hipster debate rages fiercely within our west coast brethren, Bros are apathetic towards making the city some homogenous wasteland of indie coffee shops and novelty organic dumpling cafes. David Chang’s latest “OMG YOU GOTTA TRY IT” noodle shop? Who gives a fuck when you can have the best chicken parm or pizza of your life five days a week. As long as the Natty pounders at Brother Jimmys are cold, the finance industry continues paying enough for a one-bedroom in Murray Hill, and the many post-grad women who make up our city’s corporate Public Relations industry are datable, life is good for the Bros.
Hipsters, however, won’t sleep or stop complaining until the city becomes a bland caricature of Urban Outfitter-wearing, blogging intellectual-wannabes a la HBO’s Girls. They loath the idea of Bros infiltrating their former citadels of hipster-dom in the East Village and Williamsburg, where the neighborhood wateringholes are pretty good for meeting cute Vanderbilt grads who like getting weird at Pretty Lights shows just as much as they do. The hipsters complain and roll their eyes over bacon-infused Kale dishes at gastropubs until they need the services of a true Brofessional, usually at helm of their father’s advice that they “go see an account” or “talk to a lawyer” or “set up that Roth IRA because don’t you care about your retirement?”
Fortunately, it’s a pretty big fucking city. But a hipster’s distain for the fun Bros have during SantaCon is palpable this time of year, especially on Twitter. The event — which raises loads of money for charity — has become the hipsters last stand in their battle for smug gentrification supremacy against the Bros who call New York City home. It will not be tolerated and every community board member in Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn must know that it stands in the way of The Great Hipster Plan for artesian cheese stores and cupcake shops on every block. They will not shut up about it until it’s canned, once and for all.
If you hipsters can’t handle ONE DAY of a bunch of people drinking in a santa costumes, you’re living in the wrong goddamn city.
— Brandon Wenerd (@brandonwenerd) November 24, 2014
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Watch Netflix. Play video games. Drink with your friends in your apt. Go to a museum. Go to the UWS. Maybe talk to the santa Bros, for fun. — Brandon Wenerd (@brandonwenerd) November 24, 2014
The effect Santa Con has on your life is so minuscule, it’s amazing how many people are up-in-arms about something so silly.
— Brandon Wenerd (@brandonwenerd) November 24, 2014
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Anyway, this video from our friends at ANIMAL NY proves that the boozy antics that go down on SantaCon are pretty much the same as those that go down while throwing some Jameson shots on St. Patrick’s Day.
Can’t we just all get along, toasting our Genesee Cream Ales in unity? Tis the season for that sort of thing, after all.