This is why Santarchy doesn't work!
The Christmas business is in full swing over here. Halls have been decked. Christmas movies have been watched. That ominous song about the bells has gotten stuck in my head. Things have been glued to other things.
But loudest among the melee is Santarchy, the annual pub crawl in which a crowd of mutants dressed as Santas descend upon cities all over the world. I joined the original one in San Francisco last year, and you know how the rule goes: if you do it the week before Christmas, it's a tradition. Chicago's Santarchy is a more subdued affair since it hasn't been around as long and for some reason people chose to have three or four of them instead of getting one huge group together like they do in SF. But that didn't stop us from rocking the Loop all Saturday.
The fun thing about attending here versus San Francisco is that people around here are capable of being weirded out, so instead of being very actively ignored by passersby, the santas were pulled over dozens of times to pose for photos with shoppers and tourists and it seemed like every person we passed honked their horns and waved at us. My boys and I absorbed an innocent pub-sitter into our ranks and after several santas outfitted him with a hat, beard, and tinsel, he proceeded to buy everyone drinks on his company dime. The Bean was rushed, mutant toys were passed around, and an impromptu dance party broke out when we found a busker playing Christmas songs on a saxophone. The photos are blurry and I forgot to get any of my/Hayley/Max's little outfits, but oh, the memories...they will last at least a week.
Daniel and Hayley are so deliciously compliant in my hairbrained activities.
Buscemi claus
Dance party!
I don't know who they are, but they are bound for the island of misfit toys.
Our merry band capped off the weekend by watching the boys perform at Second City before paying a visit to the Chicago History Museum. Anyone who doubts the logic behind my fixation with World's Fairs needs to see exactly what we've all missed because we weren't around in 1933:
This is exactly why museums need to come to life at night more often.
Labels: Chicago
posted by Leah @ 1:28 PM
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