Slurry St. Nicks Straddle St. Marks!Perhaps you were in the East Village this weekend and bumped into a person in a red suit? “You betrrrr wash owt,” he breathed, the alcohol mingling with the stench of his long, straggly beard. Yes, that was a Santa, and yes, he was drunk. In fact, he’d been that way since 10 a.m. It was the annual Santa Con Pub Crawl, and Father Christmases from near and far had landed on St. Marks: There was a “Rasta Santa” with a red and white dreadlock hat, a “Slutty Santa” (okay, dozens of Slutty Santas — Alpha Pi Alpha class of 2007 really got around), a “Pimpin’ Santa,” and scores of inebriated elves, who lined the street smoking and stumbling from bar to bar. We even witnessed one or two Santa fistfights, which must have really confused any children nearby who somehow managed to get past the Slutty Santas. We tried to talk to a Santa or two, but apparently St. Nick “doesn’t talk to the press.” Oh, well, after all these years, it’s nice to at least see that Santa still knows how to have fun. Before noon. In public. —Lauren Salazar
