Tales from the Santa Claus Tavern

Santa planted his boots firmly on the bar’s brass railing and ordered a beer and a shot.

“And keep ‘em coming,” said Santa. “Until you see little pink reindeer dancing around my head. That‘s the usual sign that I‘ve had enough.”

The beers and shots were always on the house at the Santa Claus Tavern.

It was an idea started by Dan Eagan. For three hundred and sixty four days of the year it was simply Dan’s Tavern. But on Christmas Eve the Santa Claus Tavern sign went up.

Only two rules applied at the tavern that night. You must be a department store Santa. And you must be in costume.

Dan’s dad was a department store Santa and he wanted to do something to honor him.

There were a sea of red hats at Dan’s that night. They came from every part of town and in every shape and size.

“Yesterday I had this kid on my lap,” said one barstool Santa. “I told him I didn’t know if I could get him the new iphone 5. I’d see what I could do. Don’t ya know he gets down off my lap, takes out his five-year-old weiner and takes a whizz on my boots! I’ll never get that shine back. These boots are ruined!”

That ain’t nothin’,” said a bar-mate. “This morning I had a kid refuse to get on my lap until I showed him my green card. He said I looked illegal. Like his daddy’s gardener’s. ‘Tu eres más feo que el culo de un mono!’ I told him. ‘You are uglier than the butt of a monkey!’ But it seems he’d been cussed out in Spanish before, so he just flipped me the finger and ran off.”

“And don’t forget," shouted Dan Eagen. “The first one of you clowns that rings his Santa bell at the bar buys a round for the house. So you might want to put those bells on the bell table in the back. Save yourself a lot of grief and money. And save me from hearin’ bells in my head for the next week.”

He would never take their money, of course. Dan was always looking out for his Santa’s. He knew they were a down-on-their-luck lot. But he also knew that for at least one night a year he could keep them drunk, fed and happy.