Grumpy Old Men

I had to stop a geriatric fight the other night. A dirty old man, in his late 60s I'd guess, came in and got fantastically drunk. Like, wow drunk.

We had to remove him for being a dick. Touching the girls in their no-no areas, picking fights, being overly exhuberant etc.

I asked him to leave but he didn't see it my way so I took his arm and turned him towards the door and started to guide him out. He spun back and screamed "Don't put your hands on me" That, by the way, is the most offensive thing you can do to a drunk, is put your hands on them. Never mind that he's been pawing at some poor young beer tart all night long, but I've mortally offended this gentleman by putting my hands on his shoulders. The injustice of it all!!

I said fine, head to the door and I won't touch you again. Rinse and repeat. 3 more times before we hit the door he's stopped leaving, I've had to nudge him along and drawn his ire and indignation. Outside he let me know how he really felt about me. I wished him a good night as he turned to walk away. As he did he caught his coat on the little post we use for the velvet ropes in front of the door. He got spun around backwards, lost his balance and wiped out, stands and ropes piling on top of him. His hat and glasses go flying. It was like a yard sale. The whole thing would have been comical if he hadn't been running the risk of breaking a hip. He stood up, pointed at me and screamed "He fucking punched me" I was a good 10 feet away from where he started to fall in the first place.

The smokers he was addressing just looked at him and one said, "No, he didn't"
My drunken grandpa staggered over over to them, shuffling like a nursing home zombie, "Yes he did!!" By now I had scooped up his hat and glasses and handed them back. He took them without looking at me, elbowed me in the gut playfully and said "He didn't really punch me, I'm just gonna get him in trouble."
"Good to know"

He ambled toward a cab when suddenly a guy screams "Gord, you mother fucker" A second old guy (Lets call him Bert) lunges and starts shaking poor Gord. Bert's 20 something son and I pry them apart, both old farts now screaming about the world of hurt they're going to put on each other.
"Gord owes me sixty bucks! I'm gonna kick the shit out of him"
"Not here"
"How far away do I have to take him to kick his ass then"
"Far enough away that I can't see it and call the cops, but why don't you deal with this when you're both sober"
"Cause I haven't seen the cocksucker in 3 years, if I don't kick his ass now I won't ever see him again"
Meanwhile Gord is stepping side to side like a little old punch drunk boxer screaming things like "Lets go, I'll fight you hear and now you shit head, you turd, you stupid-" at this point he ran out of clever insults.

I looked at Bert and his son "Hey, he owes you 60 bucks? But he's been ducking your for 3 years? Money well spent don't you think?"
Bert started to laugh and went for a smoke, his son rambling on and on about how he was just trying to keep the peace. Yeah, yeah, no one cares jr.

At some point Gord got his wrinkly old ass into a cab and slammed the door.

Bert and his son were awfully hurt I wouldn't let them back in after their attempt at a geriatric smack down. They promised they'd never return.