There was very little planning behind the Zombie Pub Crawl's inaugural bar lurch in 2005. "Like a week before the pub crawl, we did the dry run, which is what we would call it when we would go out and drink at all the bars," recalled co-organizer Chuck Terhark.
In that year, the undead caravan through northeast Minneapolis drew 150 participants, splattered with fake blood and faux lacerations. Last year's ZPC took over the West Bank (the annual event's current hub) and St. Paul's Midway Stadium, attracting 30,000 people — roughly the population of Brooklyn Center. Suffice it to say, it now takes a little more than a not-so-dry "dry run" a week in advance to put on what has become one of the largest, wackiest bashes in the Twin Cities.
"July is when I remember I had to tell my other job that I couldn't come in anymore," said co-organizer Claudia Holt, who works for the nonprofit AccountAbility Minnesota when not scheming apocalyptic parties.
While organizing the ZPC becomes a full-time job in the summer for its brain trust, planning for Saturday's ninth Zombie Pub Crawl began back in February. The ZPC brand's five co-owners are joined by a talent buyer and operations managers Peter Lansky (a k a Sovietpanda) and Jon Schober of the Current to help arrange the cerebrum-munching shindig.
Among the planning nucleus, Taylor Carik might have the sexiest job of all — permit guy. Carik oversees the coordination of the myriad permits required to square an event involving 15 bars, a zombie 6.66K Fun Run (of course) and three outdoor music stages with Minneapolis. He says the city has several types of major event classifications that don't neatly fit their bar-crawl on steroids. "We are none of those, but a combination of them, so it's very out-of-the-box," Carik said from ZPC's mini whiteboard-lined bunker in the northeast Minneapolis gallery space, CO Exhibitions.
While the core organizing team has eight members, day-of help swells into the hundreds. Staffing skipper Claudia Holt said ZPC hires 73 off-duty police officers and taps 145 volunteers, in addition to other paid staffers, to help during the dead-waking bash. Add to that another 30 morning-after (fake) blood cleaners.
Staffing is also an issue for participating bars, like the Acadia Cafe, which hosts an outdoor music stage. "We tell our regular staff you can't have the night off unless your mom's dead," co-owner Juliana Bryarly said in appropriately moribund words.
In years past, the beer cafe has hired about 20 additional workers to accommodate revelers. For the week of the bar's "best night of the year," Bryarly said their liquor order is 50 times larger than usual.
