“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 996 (Thursday) – santa rampage

North Pole Coal, Caretaker
 of Santa's Naughty List.

On December 8, 2012, hundreds of Santas walked into a bar. More accurately, they descended upon Nashville, Tennessee for a barhopping event called “Santa Rampage.” My friend and I were there. We had heard about the event just one day prior, and being single girls with nothing to hinder us on a Saturday night, were all in for some Santa fun. Nothing provokes inspiration like a sudden deadline. 

We gathered costumes and off we went. She was a cute and sexy Santa helper in a red velvety dress with white fur trim, a platinum blonde wig, and a Santa hat.

My approach was a bit different. Not feeling especially Santa-ish, it was “North Pole Coal, Caretaker of Santa’s Naughty List” for me. It was an excuse to wear mostly all black. Red in my closet? Hardly ever. Black? Now we’re talking. Except I went out and bought a bunch of new black stuff anyway. A black fake fur jacket and a tiered shimmery skirt from Target girls department were paired with a beaded top, blue wig, black beret, and tall boots with buckles. 

A blue Christmas stocking held lumps of candy coal and the “Official Naughty List” fashioned from a long scroll of gift wrap paper. After a beer or two, I managed to have people adding their own names to the Naughty List. I used to be fun. And size large from the girls department small.

Santa Rampage! Nashville, 2012

After gathering near a giant Christmas tree for a photo, the mob of Santas, assorted angels, elves, reindeer, snowmen, and I poured into the streets visiting bar after bar. Santas bellied up to the bar at Riverfront Tavern and filtered into Hooters. Santas danced on the bar at Coyote Ugly. 

It was crowded. It was practically impossible to get close enough to a bar to order a drink, which helped prevent drinking too much. It was fun. We said we’d do it again. 

We didn’t know it at the time, but that was my last Christmas season in Clarksville. My house finally sold a month later, after being on the market for about a year. It’s what I asked Santa for, so I must have gotten myself off the naughty list that year. The corrector tape on the list I was entrusted with must have worked.