SantaCon reveler Chris Paprocky wore the requisite red suit but passed on the white beard.
“I don’t want it to interfere what I’m doing,” the Long Islander explained Saturday on Eighth Ave. “Eating! Drinking!”
The annual booze-fueled celebration of the upcoming Christmas holiday started early for the 22-year-old from Stony Brook, who grabbed his first drink on the train into Manhattan around 9 a.m.
“Just for the special occasion,” said Paprocky, accompanied by five friends. “Just some Michelob Ultras. Just keeping it light.”
The event, billed on its website as “a charitable, non-political, nonsensical Santa Claus convention that happens once a year to spread absurdist joy,” attracted a crowd of like-minded revelers to the 50 participating bars — although some like Paprocky kicked things off before ever finding a stool.
Stephen McGovern, 27, one of a dozen celebrants traveling in from Morristown, New Jersey, was joined on arrival by a horde of like-minded participants who were asked to make a $15 donation to charitable causes.
McGovern’s St. Nick-inspired crew passed a joint back and forth after starting the day with vodka shots and White Claw hard seltzer.
“The atmosphere is insane,” he said. “I now understand the term ‘SantaCon.’ I thought it was a Christmas thing, but it’s really just dress up like Santa and you’re good.”
Large groups of Santas crossed paths in Midtown near Broadway, greeting one another with screams and boisterous cheers on their way to the bar.
Local mass transit officials cracked down to keep things sane on the trains into Manhattan. The MTA banned all alcohol on its Metro-North and Long Island Rail Road trains in anticipation of any sloppy Santas, while NJ Transit barred all beverages Saturday on its trains.
And the NYPD greeted the incoming party crowd via Twitter with advice on how to stay off Santa’s naughty list: No open containers, respect local residents and avoid blocking foot or car traffic during the bar crawl.
Early returns were encouraging, with no arrests reported in the first few hours of revelry.
Mike Zanca, 24, of New Haven, Connecticut, sat with friends inside The Independent bar on W. 40th St. to mark the pre-holiday festivities. He was the only one of eight without the requisite red suit, much to the chagrin of properly-attired Santas.
“He’s cheap!” shouted pal Jon Skirpo, 24, wearing a red hat. “I spent $14. He spent zero!”
Zanca countered that he actually dropped $7 on a “Stay Jolly, My Friends” T-shirt for the event, and wore a red hat provided by his mother.
McGovern acknowledged his regret for not wearing a red Santa hat, and admitted to only briefly donning one left on the street.
“Picking up a hat on the street wouldn’t be sanitary,” he said. “I want to be a sanitary Santa.”
