Tourism in Santa Fe in the late '80s/early '90s was not the settled thing it is now. That Kokopelli fucker had yet to climb off Anasazi cave walls and onto Ocean Pacific shirts and coyotes howling at the moon were things you took a .22 to, not put a bandanna on and rendered in hammered copper. And the Santa Fe plaza was a place where you could buy shit turquoise jewelry at a ridiculous markup during the day and weed, acid and smack at night. It was the most likely place you and your drama-fag friends would go to smoke cloves, flirt with each other and buy a cappuccino and some pound cake at 11pm because there were maybe three coffee houses within 100 miles and nobody had ever heard of Starbuck's.
The business community, however, had seen the writing on the wall and knew that a bunch of ruffian teenagers in black was not going to increase the rack rate at La Fonda so they got creative.
At one point they gave parade rights to a bunch of Christian Crusaders to harangue us from a grandstand but the teenagers figured out that they could just apply for the parade rights in a round robin basically every night because Santa Fe law had them as free so we kept them out that way. Then they started driving around us in pickup trucks full of Jesusfreaks but then the tourists complained. Things reached their absurd limit when they brought in Christian heavy metal bands to, among other things, redo the Scorpions' "Still Lovin' You" as "He Died For You."
Turns out jesusfreaks with PA equipment in moving vehicles are deathly afraid of water balloons. Who knew.
I'm not sure when we lost the Battle of Santa Fe; it was after I left. I mourn that era, when the most touristy tourist district in the most touristy tourist state belonged to the batcavers after dark.