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• Wellington Pub

People dressed like Santa Claus raise their shots to the sky at the Wellington during SantaCon 2007.

A Santa-clad person sips a pint.

Aaron Wood, 28, shows off his beard.

Click here to watch the Taffy on the Town with Santa video

9:10 p.m.

Broad Ripple is as desolate as the North Pole tonight, which makes sense, since about a dozen Santa Clauses are posted up in the Wellington.

The SantaCon 2007 bar crawl is the brainchild of Joe Ball. The would-be-Claus found videos of mass Santa gatherings on YouTube and figured it would be a fun way to kill a Saturday night.

The red suits were ushered in by a large snowstorm, which ushered out most of the rest of the Wellington's business. "All the reservations (at the Corner Wine Bar next door) got canceled," says Michele McAtee. If not for the Santas, the 33-year-old bartender says, "I would be dead."

9:30 p.m.

McAtee lines up shots for the group, who are generally better behaved and better organized than the average bar-crawl party. That could be because the Wellington is the first stop. It could also be that this Christmas conglomeration is concerned as much about holiday cheer as it is about holiday beers. Even though the event was promoted online, all the attendees are part of the same real-world social network. "It's a group of us that always hang out," says Ryan McTamney, 28.

10:10 p.m.

Aaron Wood mentions that nine of the beards being worn (including his) were cut from one rug. But this beard was his backup plan.

At 3 p.m., he'd begun applying rubber cement to his face and sticking on clumps of white cotton matting, the kind you'd wrap around the base of a Christmas tree. He asked his girlfriend what she thought and she liked it, but mentioned that she thought rubber cement is toxic. Wood's face began to burn while she Googled for confirmation.

The burning subsided after several washings and shavings, but Wood is still picking bits of glue from his neck.

10:21 p.m.

The Santas have been here longer than I expected, but it's easy to settle into the Wellington. The dim pub is smaller than some Hamilton County closets, all upholstered benches and leaded-glass window panes. The center of the bar is dedicated to darts, which is fine if you arrive when no one's playing. Find a seat and don't move until you leave, otherwise you'll have to time your trip to the bar as carefully as if playing Frogger.

The Santas slowly settle their tabs and make for the door, out onto quiet streets and the next bar on their journey. No word on whether milk and cookies await them.