Unless you live under a snowball in NYC, you know that this past Saturday was the wonderful, magical holiday known as Santacon.
For recent college graduates, real jobs in NYC are a tough adjustment from the glory days of college… Days consisting of nothing but excessive drinking with only a few hours of studying thrown in the mix. Santacon is the best attempt to live the dream for another day, and an excuse to start taking shots at 9am.
Something I loved as a 22 year old, but now… Yikes.
I spent this year’s Santacon Saturday by sleeping late, going for a run, getting a pedicure, and going to DryBar before going to my BFF’s 26th Birthday Dinner. Maturity at it’s finest.
This was not the case three years ago when I was that recent college graduate taking shots at 9am. Okay fine.. maybe it was 8:30, but its always 5o’clock somewhere!
I didn’t live in the city yet, but stayed with friends on Friday night to prepare our outfits and buy the champagne and OJ for early morning mimosas. We went to out to dinner that ultimately led to me getting a vodka soda poured on my head at Phebe’s (story for another time). Awesome start to the weekend.
My alarm goes off at 7:30am and it’s time to start getting ready for Santacon! I have washed the vodka out of my hair, put my glittery Hello Kitty Christmas shirt on and popped the champagne to start the day.
My boyfriend and I had broken up a few weeks before, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from enjoying the day. There was someone that I had my eyes on and was ho-ho-hoping to find him for my kiss under the mistletoe at Brother Jimmy’s.
We started the day at a few different parties, making our way around Murray Hill (classic) before ending up at Webster Hall (no comment). The Secret Santa I had my eyes on met us there and I knew we were in for a good day. We bounced around from there to a rooftop party and winded up at BroJs (cue me desperately searching for mistletoe).
My crush asked me if I was hungry and I figured we would order some quesadilla and pulled pork, Bro Js finest. He said that he had something else in mind, grabbed my hand, and out we walked into the snowy street.
There were no cabs to be had (and no Uber a few years ago) so we walked…and walked…and walked… until we found ourselves in the East Village. Drunk, starving, and freezing.
Secret Santa lived in the area and said he knew of a perfect spot for us to go. I would have been happy with my standard 4am meal of 99 cent pizza, but clearly my date was a bit classier… and it was only 6pm. Day drinking gets ya every time.
No reservation needed. My date strutted his Santa-costume wearing self right into a restaurant, asked for a table for two, and ordered a fancy bottle of red wine (or so I think). We started with the mussels and split a nice fish dish and a pasta. Needless to say, we were the best looking Santas in this fancy Italian restaurant in full on red and green attire.
I would love to say that the wine was top notch and that the food was amazing… but to be honest (and if you cant be honest at Christmas, when can you? ❤ love actually) I have no idea. I also think we went back to BroJs after dinner, because hellewwww I needed that mistletoe kiss!
Yet in the same way that Santa quickly disappears in the story of the night before Christmas, my secret santa disappeared shortly after too. Apparently he missed the part where I said that all I want for Christmas is a boyfriend. And my Christmas list still hasn’t changed, three years later…