The Prince of Persia

Its about 9:30 on a Saturday night. I'm out front chatting with someone, Ty's working the door for me. This middle eastern looking dude in designer jeans and a track suit jacket, with enough gel in his hair to make Jersey Shore jealous, marches to the door. Ty puts up his hand in the international symbol for ID please (its the same symbol as "his penis was only this long" between a crooked finger and thumb) and says "Hey man, got your ID?"

The guy doesn't even slow down and says "No" and keeps marching. Ty puts his arm and a leg in front  of the guy to impede his progress and says. "You can't come in without ID".

The guy spins around and marches the other way. As he passes me he says "I'll fucking shoot this place up" and bee lines to his car. On his way he kicks over an innocent shopping cart. By this time all the bouncers are near the door and we start laughing. Helmet Hair opens his trunk and starts fishing around. We started speculating about what he might come up with. Maybe a gun, but most likely a tire iron or a pair of Dolce Gabbanna sunnies.

Finding exactly nothing useful, Hair Gel gets back in his beamer and guns it out of his parking stall. Demonstrating his wrath he whipped through the parking lot, only slowing down for speed bumps and traffic signs. Grrr.

James said the funniest thing I've heard in a while. "Maybe when he get his gun he'll remember his ID while he's at it."

We never saw track suit hair gel guy again that night, but I have a feeling he will be back. I'm packing an entire overnight case of hair products in anticipation.