The Elephant Man

We'll call him Lumpy. He's this very strange dude that hangs out in the bar. But not strange in a "I bet he'd be interesting if we just got to know him" way. Strange in a "I bet he'd murder us and keep our heads in his freezer while he stitched our skin into a Zoot suit if we just got to know him" kind of way.

Lumpy comes in during the day mostly . Usually drunk. When the girls would serve him at the bar he'd order bottles from the bottom of the coolers so he could stare at their asses while they bent down for them. Once he was caught taking picture of one of the girls. He's no longer allowed to use his camera in the bar. All of Lumpy's jokes involve murdering and dismembering hookers. He's no longer allowed to tell jokes in the bar.


When I used to bartend Lumpy would always ask to sample various beers on tap, then give me his long-winded opinions how much malt was in each particular one, or whether or not the brewer had used too much rice, or hops. If I didn't pay enough attention to Lumpy, I'd usually hear him holler "Heeeey Tar-Bender! Oh Taaaar- Bender!" I know. Hilarious. Other times he would just make sort of yipping sounds and I would tell him to knock it off or he'd have to leave. He ends up cut off. Then he always insists on going to the bathroom before paying and usually spends a half hour in there. Sometimes he falls asleep in the stall. Sometimes he talks to himself in the mirror.

Lumpy is dirty. He's got meth-head teeth. Looks like he's always just finished tearing apart an engine. He's also got this strange large lump on the right side of his forehead. It's like he was smoked in the head with a golf club and the welt never subsided.

Lumpy staggered to the bar the other night but didn't come in right away, he kind of hid around the corner of the bar for a few minutes before sauntering in. I asked him for his ID and promptly got an inventory of every card in his wallet as he announced each card filed through in the search for his picture ID. Lumpy has a license to drive a forklift and is an AMA member.

Lumpy was wearing his sunday best, dirty sweats, a denim vest and a ball cap you couldn't see the logo of. He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer and then proceeded to attempt to talk to the prettiest girl in the bar. She politely ignored him and focused her attention with laser precision on her friends as he drunkly tried to get her attention, tapping her arm with the back of his hand. I almost felt bad for him as he tried to join their conversation. Thats when he reached over and took a shot from the bar in front of them while they were looking away, trying not to make eyecontact with him. My sympathy ended there.

Big A was already within arms reach of him when I arrived. Our manager was telling him he needed to pay for the shot and leave. Ok he said. But he had to go to the bathroom first.  Go figure. She said fine. Big A hung out by the bathrooms to ensure he didn't try to make a run for it. Lumpy bounced off both walls of the hallway as he staggered to our bathrooms.

Lumpy came back out and tried to walk by the bar, but Big A grabbed him and turned him to face our manager who was ready with his bill and the debit machine. Lumpy dug through his wallet, taking inventory again, of each card in there before producing his debit card. It was an Edmonton Oilers debit card. Figures.

The Oilers Card. For when you don't want to pay.

After repeatedly punching the wrong buttons on the debit machine Big A (a full foot taller than Lumpy) stood over his shoulder and pointed to each button he needed to push. Turns out Lumpy had the same amount of money in his pocket as the Oilers have had Stanley Wins in the last 25 years.

The manager got tired of this game and said screw it. For the six bucks he owed us it wasn't worth our while. Big A guided him out while I cleared a path in case Lumpy decided to get squirrely.

I took my spot back at the door with James. Lumpy stood for a second before turning on me. Apparently he had something on his lumptastic mind.

"What's your name?" he demanded.
"Joe"
"Joe..." he mused "I think you're lying to me"  he's smarter than he looks, but I wasn't giving him any credit. I looked at James.
"What's my name?" I asked.
"Joe" he said flatly. I just gave Lumpy a 'well there you then' shrug. Lumpy teetered while he mulled that over.

"You know what 'JOOOOOEEE'.... as if Joe was a fake name I give to drunks and he'd somehow outsmarted me.
"What?" I asked.
"Jooooeee....I spend a lot of fucking money at this place..." he said lifting a finger for emphasis. I think he meant to point it at me but ended up pointing at some empty space between James and I. James had had enough.

"Time to go" he said with enough edge in his voice that I knew he was short on patience with our filthy patron.

Then Big A came out with Lumpy's debit card in his hand. He pushed it into Lumpy's chest. Lumpy clutched at it and almost dropped it.
"Don't come back" Big A said before turning to head back inside. Apparently he wasn't in the mood to argue about it.

"Time to go" James repeated. Lumpy started to walk away he turned and pushed a finger into James shoulder and started to say something. I stepped forward and told him it was time to go, again. He caught the drift and staggared away.

A couple days later I stopped in to pick up some take out from the bar and was telling the story to the staff. One of the waitresses told me that he came back on Sunday looking for his debit card. He said he must have gotten a little carried away Saturday night because he lost his card and couldn't remember leaving. The waitress told him we had given him his card back already and that he wasn't welcome back. She said he was really hurt by that and said that it was too bad because he really liked our bar.

Taxi Confessions

A woman drove into our parking lot, pulled into a stall and bumped into the disabled parking sign. It folded back under the bumper of her cobalt blue PT cruiser then sprang back into place when she backed up an inch or two. She got out without checking her bumper and walked to my door. She stumbled once or twice taking a slightly indirect route.

“Hi there, got your ID?”
“Yup” she said and handed me her wallet with the ID showing through the little plastic window. She was in her 30s, definitely old enough to know not to drink and drive. I wasn't sure if she was drunk or had some sort of disability, which would explain parking in the disabled spot. Maybe a little of both.

“How’s your night going?” I asked.
“Good”
“Had a couple drinks already?”
“Yeah…”
“How many?” I asked.
“A couple” she lied.
“Well, you’re a little stumbly. I’m going to let you in but I’m gonna keep an eye on you. And I want you to drink some water.”
“Ok”

I handed her back her ID and stepped aside. She walked to the bar and sat down. A moment later a Jager Bomb and a Pint appeared in front of her. Perfect.

Time passed, she got up to dance by herself. She did kind of a strip tease, slowly taking off her long sweater. She got her arm caught in the sleeve and turned round and round in a circle trying to free it, but never quite catching up to it. Eventually she freed herself and returned to her strip tease. It looked like she was trying to take a shower with her clothes on, randomly squatting down to pick up the invisible soap she’d dropped. She was starting to attract attention. 

Eventually a guy walked up to the dancefloor and started chatting her up. They sat down together and had a drink, she leaving her sweater and wallet on the dancefloor.

The night thumped on.  At some point I carded two larger women in their late 30s, and quite flattered to be ID’d. They went in, looked around. Suddenly the larger of the two came flying out and ran to her car.

Her friend trailed but stopped for some reason to explain it to us. It turns out it was the other girl's husband that was now chatting up our stumbling dirty dancer. He was supposed to be out meeting a friend. I got the impression that the wife came out specifically to keep an eye on him.

Meanwhile Dirty Dancer had gone back to her spot at the bar, blissfully oblivious to all of this. The wife came in and tore a strip of the husband and they all went outside to fight. A few minutes later his buddy showed up to find everyone in the parking lot arguing. He left immediately. I was worried the large wife was going to try and take out her frustration on the relatively small, drunk Dirty Dancer. I explained to the wife's friend that I didn't think Dirty Dancer realized what was going on. The friend caught my drift and said they were leaving anyway. 

At this point we had cut Dirty Dancer off and the bar staff were feeding her water. I told the guys that I would have them bring her out when the next cab showed up. She was having a hard time sitting without falling and I certainly didn’t want to have her try and drive. 

We got her outside and I asked how she was. She was fine.
“Can I get you a cab?”
“OK”
“Alright, there’s one over here” I said, leading her to the line of cabs.

The sliding door of the van opened and she stumbled trying to get in. I gave her a hand up. The cabbie then said “Do you have cash? I don’t have a debit machine”
“Well that’s a problem” she said.

“No it's ok, there’s a bank machine right there, I can take you there and you can get out some money in the drive thru” he said.
“NO! I’m not paying extra because you don’t have a machine!” she said.
“Oh I won’t start the meter until you get your money out” he replied, trying to make things right.
She looked at me for confirmation, so I explained it to her again.
“No,” she said,  “He doesn’t understand his machine”
I looked confused, the cabbie looked confused. “Do you want to try another cab that has debit?” I asked.
She nodded.

At the same time a group of guys was passing us.  One of them had overheard the tail end of our exchange and said “Hey, that one takes debit, the one we just got out of” pointing to a taxi.

I turned and said thanks. The guy had a thick wad of 20s in his hand. “Shit, nevermind” he said, leaned in and handed the cabbie a 20. “Is that enough to get her home?” he asked.

“Yes!” said the cabbie.
Relieved this was resolved, I started to shut the door, when she said “I don’t want your money”

Shit.

“It’s ok, I won a shitload at the casino” said the guy and walked on towards the door.

I looked at the girl and she seemed a little overwhelmed by so much happening. I asked if that was ok and she said sure. I closed the door and walked away, shaking my head.

Halfway to my post I heard the cabbie yelling to me. I turned.  He was waving, frustrated. 

“She wants ME to pay HER” he said shrugging.
“Huh?”
“She says I owe her 20$, you talk to her” he said.

Well shit. How is this my problem again?? I headed back to the cab.

I could see movement through the windshield. Suddenly I realized she was climbing over the seat, falling onto the back row. Then she climbed over the back seat and fell into the cargo space of the cab. She looked like a marine going over a log obstacle in basic training. All of this in a short skirt and heels. The cabbie gave me a 'What the hell is going on!?' look. I opened the door and stuck my head in through the side. She was still hiding in the back.

“Hey there” I said.
“Hi” she said plainly.
“Whatcha doin’ back there?”
“I don’t feel comfortable being in this vehicle anymore” she replied, matter-of-factly.
“Ok, you wanna get out?”
“Yes” she replied from her hidey hole.
“Ok, we’ll open the back door for you”

So we slowly opened the back door, stuffing our hands up underneath to keep her from falling to the pavement. She swung around and eased out. I waved to the cabbie to leave it with us, he was off the hook.

“I’m gonna walk” she declared.
“Really”
“Yes, I think that’s best” she decided.
“Ok, well, you’re a little drunk and stumbly and I want you to get home safe”
“Yes, I’m stumbly” she said.
“I’ll tell you what, you can come back inside and drink some water if you want and maybe sober up a little before you walk home. Is that ok?”
“Yes” she said.
“Ok, cool, but just water, no more booze ok”
“No booze” she said.

I let the bartenders know the deal, parked her on a bench and kept an eye out.

Almost immediately some dick head wandered over and started hitting on her like a vulture picking at the drunkest carcass he could find. He kept trying to buy her drinks and the bar staff kept telling him no. Eventually he went back to his perch with his greasy friends. Before long she met a new group of guys who began chatting her up. The vulture eyed them all jealously.

Eventually someone bought her a tequila. Before she had a chance to drink it CT intervened and got her outside. She broke her end of the deal. She said she understood.

I took her to where the cabs were and she decided to smoke. She was joined by some other guy who had been chatting her up inside. The vulture came out to see where she’d gone, angry to find her attention directed at another male. Feathers ruffled, he waddled back into the bar, looking for his next victim.

Eventually she got into a cab and was gone for the night. I have no idea how she paid.

The next day I stopped into the bar for breakfast and found her car was gone. I don’t know if she came back and got it, or if it had been towed for being parked in a disabled spot.  Either way, I’m sure we’ll see her again before too long.

Brazil Nuts

Four Brazilian kids came in last Friday. There's the tall good natured kid in a grey sweater, a weird smaller kid who looks like an elf, another douchebag with a little moustache and a new guy with a stupid pony tail.

Tall kid is alright, pleasant enough, never causes trouble. Rumour is he sells weed, but he seems to get that it can’t be done in our bar.

The elf is a douche bag weirdo. Super aggressive with girls, hands all over, doesn't understand 'no', always seems to be in the middle of some sort of trouble. He usually wears a toque way on the back of his head, and a ratty cardigan and skinny jeans. He just pisses me off in every way. One of our younger waitressed told me last week that "no he's not an asshole, he's fun". 

The moustache dude is another piece of shit. He’s handed out half-drank leftover beers to drunk girls, he’s been super aggressive with women on the dancefloor, and we even caught him with a significant amount of weed in the bathroom. We’ve banned him for a while but started letting him and his buddies come back.

The Ponytail freak is new. Seen him around once or twice. Never made an impression on me one way or the other. Until Friday.

It was a pretty good Friday, we were busy. I was working with James, CT and Big A. At some point a body builder looking short guy and his tispy body builder girlfriend showed up. Later, their friend, a blond girl arrived. I asked for ID and she rolled her eyes and handed me her ID and looked away as though I was wasting her time. I let her in and she gave me a quick condescending smile before rolling her eyes and stomping into the bar. Blondie was a bit of a bitch, but that’s nothing new ‘round her I guess.

CT spent a chunk of the night avoiding/entertaining a girl he’d ‘gotten to know’ the weekend before. We were teasing him about his new stalker/love interest over the radio when suddenly he said “Hey, take a look inside guys”

James looked and went in. It seemed there was an argument between the weightlifting team and the Brazilians. I hung halfway back keeping my eye on the door, CT and Big A were approaching the group as well. The argument went through the motions but seemed to resolve itself. The girls in the group just wanted to leave and were motioning the boys to go. James was about to walk away when suddenly people started shoving.

The Muscle-y dude started to step towards the PonyTail weirdo, but CT wrapped him up. James stepped in front of the Pony Tail weirdo who was now completely outside the fray, but still screaming at the Muscle-y dude for some reason. The girlfriend was slapping James on the back of his bald head. A table went over and glass shattered, I ran around and pulled off a guy who was trying to get at the group, I think it was the Moustache Douche.  The tall kid was trying to pull the Elf-looking weirdo out of the group. We had it pretty much tied up when suddenly I heard glass break.

The douchebag-asshole-coward PonyTail freak reached over James, and smashed a bottle over the Muscle-y guy’s head. CT had been holding the guy back and hand his arms pinned to his side. The glass and beer exploded over the guys head and burst square into CTs face like a shotgun blast. He spun around into me and I could see he was cut up pretty good. He ran over to check on the Muscle-y guy. He had a deep gash down his forehead to his eyebrow. Ten or twelve stitches worth. 

“I got bottled” he said with short lived disbelief. Then the rage took over “Where the fuck did he go!?”

Both guys looked like a horror movie. There was blood everywhere.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see who did it but you’re cut pretty bad, we’re gonna get you an ambulance and the cops are coming” I hadn’t actually seen the guy who did it, but found out later that Big A had grabbed him and practically carried him outside then ran back in to help us. I saw on the video later that the Elf looking asshole had gone out and told PonyTail to run.

The Muscle-y guy ran outside and announced he was going to kill the guy who bottled him.  He tried to get at the remaining Brazilians but James and Big A got him calmed down. I went over and told him that we had a pretty good idea who the guy was and that the cops were coming, the whole thing was on video and that they’d get him. “Let me get him” he said infuriated. Not happening big guy.

Suddenly Blondie, who was such a charmer earlier, is my best friend, begging me to help her cut up muscle man. We got him some towels to help stop the bleeding.

All of a sudden he caught sight of one of the Brazilians and lost his shit. He went flying around the corner and tried to grab one. Big A was quick to grab him and I was right behind. At some point I had my arms around his body, he turned to get free and elbowed me in the face. He suddenly stopped turned and apologized. I almost laughed. 

“Its ok buddy but look, cops are here. You’re not gonna do yourself any good getting arrested.” He found that agreeable.

Cops showed up, ambulance showed up, they looked over Muscle-y guy and CT. Muscle-y guy got a lift to the hospital. CT decided chicks dig scars and declined to get the stitch or two he probably needed.  The bar had emptied so I told CT he was done for the night. He was lucky to still have his vision.

Days later I found out that one of our regulars was a roommate of Elf-face and Ponytail asshole. PonyTail claims he was the victim and just defending himself. The video shows a much different story fortunately. The video shows he was no only not being attacked, but his supposed attacker was being held back by on bouncer and blocked by another.  This dick head had to practically climb over James to hit the guy with a bottle, cutting him badly and almost blinding one of my buddies. Hopefully PonyTail get deported after a few months in jail having his hair used like a handle. Yup, that’d be nice.

Anyway, CT is fine, like a trooper he was back to work the next day. The cops came by to get the video earlier this week. And there’s pretty much only one kind of Brazilian allowed in our bar now.

If you know what I’m sayin’.

The Leprechaun 2 The Return of the Green Gut!

Last Saturday “The Drunkest Leprechaun” returned. You might remember him from an earlier post: The Drunkest Leprechaun He’s a nice enough guy, but he drinks WAY too much and stumbles around like a bumbling idiot. We haven’t let him inside in months.

I was talking with James when I saw a cabbie losing his shit about something, hands waving about, pointing, flicking invisible things from the air, whacking the dash of his minivan.  

“Is that the Drunk guy from St. Paddy’s day?” I asked.
“I dunno” said James, taking a closer look. The passenger opened the car door and stumbled out awkwardly, almost face planning into a Kia.
“Yep! We gonna let him in?”
“I don’t know yet, lets see” Leprechaun stumbled over the curb then almost fell over trying to high five a tall, skinny smoker.
“Nope!” we chimed.
Our holdout from march 17^th weaved to the door but James just shook his head. No entry tonight pal. He got a fist bump for his efforts.

The Leprechaun bobbed amongst the smokers, shaking hands and hugging everyone in sight. Eventually he jitterbugged his way to a group of girls sitting on a bench. After a moment one of them started waving frantically to me. I sauntered over to their spot. 

The Leprechaun had grabbed his impressive pot belly and was lifting it up and down. The cartoon character Animal from the Muppet show, emblazoned on the front of his shirt did a little dance with the motion. “This is horrible. Just awful!” he declared as four 18 year old girls watched with horror and laughing embarrassedly at the clown in front of them. He then started rubbing his belly with both hands, as though he might be able to see the future in it. The 18 year olds should have been horrified as they were most likely looking at their own futures.

“This is just awful right?” the Leprechaun repeated, speaking as though he had just noticed his gut for the first time.
“Lets go get you a cab” I said.
“Yeah, OK” he said. I could feel the relief wash over four 18 year old girls sitting on the bench behind me. I thought, be happy if this is the worst guy you have to deal with in your just blossoming drinking career, gals.

Back at the door James got another fist bump. Then I got one. James looked down and saw that the Leprechaun was bleeding “Hey you’re bleeding” he pointed to the drunk man’s leg.
There was a line of dried blood on his shin, and two more on his calf and ankle. He lifted his leg and rubbed at his shin, which only served start the flow of blood all over again. He turned to try and see his own calf reminding me of a dog trying to catch his own tail, turning, turning, turning.

The sole of his Burkenstock was drenched in blood, his heel stained red. He shrugged and staggered off to a cab who wouldn't let him in. I went in and got a damp paper towel so he could at least clean himself up a bit and maybe have a better shot at getting a lift out of my immediate area.

I came back out and he was fist bumping James again. I approached and he started going on about how awesome we were, and offered me a high five. A high five that I knew would become a bro hug if I fell for it again. I just handed him the paper towels. He looked at them as though I’d handed him something beautiful and confusing. The meaning of life wrapped around last years tax code. “To clean yourself up” I said.

With a dull spark of realization he took the paper towels and then grabbed my hand (Dammit to hell! I really need to start carrying hand sanitizer). Then he bent over, looked at his leg and stuffed the wet paper towel in his pocket. Then waddled off to the taxi stand. Eventually he found a cab who would take him and disappeared. For at least a week or two.

Stripes

Saturday was interesting. 

I showed up to see a big biker sitting at the window wearing his cut, which is illegal in our province. Can’t wear gang gear in a licensed establishment. James said that one of the waitresses told him he’d have to take it off but he ignored her. I said no problem, I’ll get into my gear and go talk to him. I came back out and he was already talking to some guy. They were looking at a police car up at the other end of the mall. I looked at the biker, 6’7” well over 300lbs and said,
“Yeah man, if they see you here with your cut they’ll pull you out, question you and won’t let you back in. I’m not allowed to let you in with that on either”

He was pretty good about it, pulled it off and threw it in his truck as the cops drove out of the parking lot. 

“Thanks, enjoy your night”
About 2 hours later a cop in a supervisor car rolled by and flagged me over.
“Anything going on tonight?”
“Nope, just the regulars” I said. It was actually pretty quiet with everyone behaving.
“We’ll be back” he said and sped away.

Fifteen minutes later every cop in town rolled in. They gathered outside the bar, then 10 cops went inside. 2 minutes later 2 of them came out with a guy in cuffs. Threw him in a car and drove away. Then a couple of them started talking to the big biker. As they were doing that his buddy, a skinny little old dude missing all four of his front teeth jumped behind a cop and pretended he was humping him from behind. Toothy came flying out the front door about a second later, admonished to stay out until the RC’s had left. He just laughed the toothless laugh of an old rummy, and stood around smoking.

They brought the big biker out and read him the part of the liquor act that says gang members can’t enter licensed establishments. Since he had no tattoos and was no longer wearing his cut, they said he could stay if it was ok by us. The guy wasn’t causing any trouble and was still sober so I said sure. He stood around for about a half our telling me about his constitutional rights. I'm a door guy, not a lawyer.

Of course they're real!

After that a girl in a skin tight striped dress, and older lady in a tie dyed top and a blonde with impossibly huge fake breasts walked up. Stripes didn’t have her ID and was furious that we made her go back to her car for it. The older lady didn’t have hers either. I started to joke with her that I wasn’t sure she was old enough when Stripes freaked out and told me that OBVIOUSLY they were all over 40. Boobzilla just looked at me and blinked. I let them in.

About 10 mins later one of our guys, CT, came up and shook his head. “You gotta see these girls, they’re crawling on the floor, flashing their thongs, its nasty in there.” CT has standards, but is no prude by any means, so I wandered in to see. Sure enough, Stripes was lying on the floor, legs spread, while Boobzilla was grinding in the air over her. I told CT to tell them to knock it off. He went over and told them to tone it down. Stripes told him to relax, that her dad owned the strip mall we were in, said she’d take him home if he was nice. Boobzilla blinked and smiled.

Stripes did tone it down a bit but we were still occasionally treated to random views of her thong. After a few more drinks she started making out with Boobzilla who appeared to enjoy the whole thing, blinking emphatically.

Later, CT asked Stripes not to stand on a bar stool. She was pretty wobbly at this point. She leaned down and told CT he should calm down and stop being “That Guy”. Eventually CT got her down. She wandered over to where Boobzilla was standing on the dance floor by the door and started making out with her. Boobzilla then pulled down the front of her top exposing her cartoonishly large breasts. They bounced in Stripes’ face and they all laughed. Meanwhile, half the guys in the place were parked at tables facing the dance floor, watching this display of class. The manager told us Stripes was cut off.

About 10 minutes later Stripes came flying out and tore a strip off CT for cutting her off. I’m not even sure CT knew anything about it. He said he didn’t know anything about. She demanded to know who cut her off. “I dunno, someone who thinks you’re too drunk” he shrugged.

Stripes stormed back in, furious that a bar would DARE cut off the daughter of a strip mall magnate such as herself. On her way she smashed into a small girl standing at a table by the door. The girl looked and stripes and said “Why did you hit me?”
Stripes, oblivious to her own actions, looked confused and told the tiny girl she didn’t do anything, and to fuck off.

The girl looked at Stripes and lost it, swinging at her in great arc, catching her forehead and nose on the down stroke. Stripes swung back and missed, hitting me in the shoulder as I stepped in. We got them broken up and the little girl was dragged outside.

Stripes looked at me and screamed “She hit me, I want to press charges”
“Relax” I said, “She’s gone, its over”
“NO! YOU SAW THAT! I’m pressing CHARGES!” she insisted in her best princess tantrum.
“Then call the fucking cops” I said walking away, irritated with this self-important mess in a striped dress. I went to see what happened to the other girl.

The other girl was being held back by friends and was pretty much over it when Stripes marched out announcing she was pressing charges.The little one lost her shit and started pulling away from her friends. A group of cops having a pow-wow in the parking lot wandered over and everyone started to calm down. Little chick’s friends dragged her off before she could get arrested. Stripes marched over to the cops and started sticking fingers in the chests demanding that they press charges. The big cop who had been in earlier looked at her and said. “Don’t touch me” 

I walked away. I ended up talking to another cop who asked why the guy in the Harley jacket with the little tiny man bun was sitting on a bench watching them. I told him Man Bun was waiting for them to leave so he could drive his bike home. Shitfaced. “Noted” the cop said.

“I told him he shouldn’t, his friends told him he shouldn’t, but he’s determined” I said.
Just then Stripes blew by us looked at me, wagged a finger at me and said “You! Shouldn’t…” then she couldn’t think of anything else and staggered over to Boobzilla and Old Tye Dye, who just blinked. They all hugged and Stripes flipped us off and landed in a cab, gone for the night.

I found out after from a friend at work that Stripes actually didn't have a credit card to start a tab, so she had offered up her watch as security. When she went to pay her tab she demanded that they return her "priceless Rolex". It was something more in range of a priceless Timex, but really, who's gonna argue when she's just about to leave the building.

The cops, suddenly all scrambled, jumped in their cars and took off. Man Bun saw this as his opportunity. He swaggered over to his bike, looking up and down the road for cops as he put his lid on. “Dude” I yelled. He wasn’t a bad guy, just has a case of stupid.

He turned and looked at me.
“All those cops are here because there’s nothing going on tonight. That means they will be nearby waiting for drunk drivers. You’re gonna get caught.” “I don’t fucking care, I can’t leave her here” he nodded at his hog. “You shouldn’t drive bro, you’re gonna wreck yourself” I tried another tact.

He then told me he only came down to see one of our bartenders, and that he was worried she might have seen him making out with a couple of different girls (Who turned out to be Stripes and the little chick…maybe there was more to that fight than a simple bump in passing)

He then announced he was Canadian and free to travel. And he was staying at the same hotel as Stripes. He wasn’t afraid. Fuck it. He hopped on and kicked the bike over. I shrugged and walked away. He was going to drive right by the spot where the cops wait for drunks coming out of our parking lot and I gave him fair warning.
He swung his bike around in a huge circle coming within inches of smashing into a line of parked cars. James just looked at me and said “Holy shit, did he just about hit all those cars!?” “Yup”

We went inside and had a well-earned Schlong Island Iced tea.

Side Boob Hour

Friday night Detroit returned. She got dropped off and sauntered up to the bar with a huge smile on her face. We just looked at her, amazed she had the gall to return. James clenched his jaw and shook his head at her. 

“Oh come on, I’ll behave I promise” she laughed.

“Nope,” James replied “three strikes, you’re out”

She looked a little hurt but was undeterred “oh, but I’ve learned my lesson” she cooed. She was wearing a short dress that was cut in a way that would have made here the star of Peter Griffin’s “Side-boob Hour”
James stood his ground.

“But I just got dropped off!” she said, obviously hurt.
“There’s cabs right over there” I offered. She ignored me and looked at James.
“Can we talk over here?” she asked pointing to a spot away from the door; and ear shot.
“Sure, but it won’t make any difference”

They walked away and had a quick conversation resulting in Detroit stomping away like a child who did NOT get her way. She hopped in a cab and never returned.

“How’d that go?” I asked jokingly.

“She said she’d make it worth my while.” James said flatly.

“So is coming back then?” I joked again.

“No” he said even more flatly, then kind of shook as though a chill went through him.

“She also told me she wasn’t wearing any underwear” he continued. Then a chill went through me.

Saturday started slow, but it picked up around 11. At one point I looked outside and saw James

dealing with a line. In the middle of the line was a dude wearing one of those furry hats with a face and ears on it that has two long arms stretching down with pockets/mittens at the end. His looked like some sort of fox, or maybe a bear. It looked like something you’d see a Japanese school girl at a comic book convention wearing. Whatever. He was a space cadet. He looked like he might have done ALL the drugs that night. But, he seemed relatively harmless so he was let in.

After about an hour I saw him being pulled off the dancefloor. He struggled and ended up on the wet floor with about 600lbs of bouncer holding him down. I wandered over to keep anyone from dummying one of our guys from behind. He gave up fighting and said he’d go peacefully if we found his animal hat thing. I grabbed it and brought it out to him. Then he asked for his girlfriend. Fine…I’ll get her now too.

I found her sitting all cozy with some dude. I said “Hey, are you with that dude with the furby hat?”
“Yeah” she said.
“Well, we tossed him out, his waiting outside for you”
“I don’t want to go outside” she said.
Fine by me. I went back out and told Furby his girl was staying.
“But that’s my girlfriend” he said all wide eyed and confused.
“Yeah well, I can’t MAKE her come out(I suppose I could have, but why bother) so you’ll have to call her later, but you need to leave now or I’m gonna have you arrested”
“Can I go in and talk to her?” he asked, the same way a child might ask if he could pet your Doberman.

“No, you need to leave, now”

Furby took off for a bit, then came back, then left and came back, each time explaining that he had a girlfriend and she was inside.

I found out later that Furby’s girl was talking to some guy on the dancefloor, Furby took exception and tried to shove the guy a few times.  That’s why he got tossed. The girlfriend and the other dude were still inside getting cozy.

Eventually she came out with the cozy dude. Furby was standing at the end of the building smoking. His girlfriend walked over, they chatted for a minute and then left together, leaving the cozy dude standing there looking foolish.

Three girls walked up, one of them worked for us before and the others were regulars. All three girls are very pretty, and very lesbian. As they chatted with us on their way in Cozy guy walked up and started chatting them up. “Hey, if you ladies are going in, can I get a dance?”
I laughed and shook his shoulder. “You ever hear the term ‘barking up the wrong tree’ bud? It’s not your night.”
He just looked at me confused. The girls blew him off and went inside. He followed them sadly and desperately.

And that was pretty much it for Saturday. 

Orange is the New Drunk

Some guy came out of the bar one night and told my co worker he was an ex-corrections officer and could get him a better job than being a bouncer. My buddy, who happens to have kind of a cool day job (that doesn’t involve checking anybody’s ass for contraband) said “thanks, I do ok for myself”

Our ex-corrections officer once again told my buddy that he could do much better than a shitty bouncing job.  My buddy once again said thanks but no thanks.

I came outside at the end of their conversation and could see my co-worker was kind of annoyed.Our new friend the Warden was now speaking to one of our regulars. My coworker told me about the conversation and I just shook my head.  As we spoke our regular came by and said “Hey that dude just tried to sell me drugs”

"Ok, thanks" I said, and our regular went back in.

Eventually the Warden came back and started to walk inside. “Hey buddy, I think you’ve had enough to drink, how ‘bout we call it a night” I said.

“I haven’t done anything wrong” he replied.

“Nope, you haven’t, but you have had a lot to drink and I’m going to cut you off now because you’re showing signs of being too intoxicated.” I was a polite as can be, and it was also true. He was quite drunk. Not so drunk that I might have normally stopped him, but drunk enough I could justify it. Plus, he was kind of an asshole.

“Oh, ok,” he said, “Well, I’ll just go tell my wife”. He reached for the door handle and pulled trying to get past me. I just leaned against the door with my arm.

“You’re not coming back in. I’ll go grab your wife, what’s she look like?”

He couldn’t describe her, and he didn’t know what she looked like, or what she was wearing but was sure he could find her if I just let him in. Oh, and by the way, he hadn’t done anything wrong. I told him to point her out through the window.  He stuck a finger in the air and moved it as though he was desperately trying find Waldo, counting off each red and white thing as he went. Finally he pointed out some dude in a white hat who knew his wife. “No sweat, I’ll let him know you’re leaving”. I said.

I went inside and approached the guy in the hat. No problem, except he didn’t speak any English. Great. So in my best broken French I said what probably sounded like:

“You friend, too drink, had to rest outdoors, he had a wish for me to say wife”  

He looked confused, I just shrugged, but he got the gist and gathered all the wives and girlfriends and headed out.

The Warden by now had wandered to the side of the building about 20 yards away. When his buddies came out he suddenly came to life. “Hey, by the way” he spat “you guys are fucking cunts!” (cunt is the new word people use to let us know how brave and shocking they are) “Who wants to step up!?”

“Ok,thanks  have a good night” my co worker said with a little wave. I just chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s the only answer you have!” the Warden retorted. “Why don’t you grow you beards out a little more and grow your balls out.”

My co worker and I just looked at each other. I couple other customers who were hanging out smoking started to laugh to themselves.

Again, from 20 yards off our new friend offered to fight us, then proceeded to kick rocks. Then he told us he was an ex-cop (he must have gotten a promotion when his friends came out) and told us we were stupid fucks who didn’t know how to do our jobs.

I thanked him for his feedback which only further enraged him, and told him to go home. Fortunately his wife was there to hold him back from the severe beating he had in store for us. If he could only get by her 110lb frame he would have brought a world of hurt to the 520lbs of sober bouncer standing at the door. But she kept us safe. Thank heavens.

Eventually his party got him into their vehicle where he promptly fell asleep. One of them drove him home while the rest of his crew went back to party. Later the French guy asked me what happened and I told him. He looked skeptical and asked, “you were polite, like that? Like you’re talking to me?” I said of course, no need to be rude (Which probably sounded like “I can be sure, this is not a need for bad smells”) He just laughed and in English said “He’s just a fucking asshole anyway! Have a good night!” and ran back in to enjoy the rest of his evening. The rest of the night went off without a hitch. See, I’m a great bouncer in every language!

Two to Tango

There are two women come into the bar on a regular basis. One of them has a boyfriend who comes in with them from time to time, but he quite often just drops them off at the door at 10 and picks them up at 2. They usually get drunk and dance. By the end of the night they are usually grinding on each other and often making out. It’s all pretty harmless.

The other night they wandered in around 11. One was wearing a long flowey blouse type thing that was just long enough that I couldn’t see her shorts. I jokingly told her she had to wear pants to come in. With that she pulled up shirt to show me her shorts, and everything else up to her shoulders. I just smiled and let her through. Could be a worse start to the night.

About an hour later I was watching all the drunk hillbillies surrounding our two lovely ladies. I noticed one guy dancing behind my flashing friend. She was grinding up against him and he had his arms wrapped around her. Then I realized I couldn’t see one of his hands. That’s because it was nestled firmly between her legs. I started to walk over shaking my head. He saw me and removed the offending digits,  looked a little embarrassed and stumbled away to the bar. She just moved on to the next testosterone vulture waiting nearby, pulling her hot pants out of her crotch.

Later I was at the door and the same drunk hillbilly came out for a smoke. He started rambling away to me about his job and how tough he was, and how much money he makes.  He eventually decided that for some reason I was the shit, and he asked me my name. I gave him my standard bouncer alias. He stuck his hand out and announced himself. I looked at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand and said “Im not touching that, I know where it’s been”

He looked a little hurt at first, then fired up a few neglected brain cells and realized what I was talking about. “Oh…yeah….that’s fair” he said.  He rambled on for about 5 minutes more before going inside again.

About an hour later the bar cut the dynamic duo off, and they left shortly after that; but not before one of them could give me a sweaty damp high five. That’s when I decided I need to start carrying hand sanitizer.  

The fast and the furious 4

So the other night these 4 idiots came into the bar. 3 of them were full on meat head ‘roid ragers, the other, just a garden variety asshole.  They spent the night bragging about their net worth, picking people up off the ground and showing off their acute oppositional defiance disorder. While these guys were basking in the glory of their own existence just about everyone else in the bar were either laughing at them or waiting with baited breath for them to pay their tabs and leave. 

At one point, their leader, smack dab in the middle of his midlife crisis, grabbed some woman as she walked by. She looked at him and said. “What makes you think you can touch me?”
He sneered at her and said “I drive a Lamborghini baby”
She sneered back and said “I drive a Kia Soul, go fuck yourself”

She made my night.

To Be Over-Served and Protect

So some big guy got into a fight with one of the regulars, a smaller, albeit feisty guy, who I get along with. A good Maritimes boy. Well, not a fight exactly but there was some shoving and it would have been a fight. But our bouncers came flying out of everywhere, I grabbed the smaller guy and walked him out with no troubles, he left like a champ on his own steam. By the time I got back the big guy was flailing around and ended up in a heap on the floor. 

From his back, surrounded by our door staff, he tried a different tact, acting all innocent and confused, like, why are we manhandling him? We finally got him out the door and once outside he lost his shit, started screaming that he’s gonna sue the place, that the regular he was scuffling with was an asshole who got in his face because he was yelling at some chick who told him off. He stood outside like a jackass for 10 solid minutes.

Come to find out, the big creepy douche is a cop from a nearby city. And so are his two friends. One of them pulled his badge out after losing a shoving match with one of our guys.  Another came over to hear what the girls involved in the scuffle had to say to me about what happened. Every time she said something he would cut her off.

“He kept touching me…”
“What do you mean ‘touching you’ “ he’d interrupt.
“We told him to leave us alone and he kept harassing me…”
“What do you mean harassing” he’d interrupt aggressively. This went on until she was done.

He walked away to find his buddies, the tall prick still arguing his case that he was in fact the victim in this situation. They finally got Big and Creepy into a cab and left.

At 2:30 we got a call from the cops, they heard about the incident and wanted to hear what happened. We said yeah sure, come on in. Well, it was the two buddies of Big and Creepy. They never actually said they were working, that I recall, but talked about how they work undercover, said they were trying to blend in, asked what happened etc. etc. all leading us all to believe that they were in fact on duty for some reason. We all chatted for about 10 minutes and they left.  I think we’ve got a pretty good rapport with the local cops. They come by to check on things from time to time and we usually all chat a bit and have a laugh at our clientèle. But these three guys were dicks.

The next day I watched the video of the fight. It happened exactly the way the girls explained it to me. Big and Creepy chatting them up, getting shot down, getting aggressive, getting into a fight. Seems his big, bald, creepy ego can’t handle rejection and he reacts by picking fights with little girls; and guys half his size.

My boss spoke with the police department. From what I’ve heard, it turns out these guys weren’t on duty at all. They were just full of shit. So now I really hope Big and Creepy does try and sue the bar. I would LOVE to show his bosses the video of him serving and protecting.  

Love Actually

V-Day

On Valentines day I was standing in the back, keeping an eye on things when a guy walked up to me. Tall, skinny, wearing a beard. He said hi, asked how long I’d been back working, told me he respected me and wouldn't cause any trouble. I said great, having no clue who this guy was but knowing full well that if he said he wasn't causing trouble, he’d be in the middle of it soon enough. As he walked away it dawned on me; oh yeah, I banned that guy for fighting a year or two ago.

Ten minutes later he and his 4 buddies are at the center of a scuffle.  I ran up to help get it under control and we all exploded out of the bar onto the side walk. After ten solid minutes of  shouting, shoving and posturing we got everyone calmed down and on their feet. Dozens of people who weren’t even involved spilled onto the sidewalk to watch.

Finally we got to a point where no one was holding anyone back, no one is threatening any one, and everyone is getting ready to leave. Then, out of nowhere, the drunkest guy there pushed some dude for no reason. The entire place explodes into a 30 man brawl. We’re all pulling people off of one another. A guy took a swing at one of my buddies so I pulled him off and we all ended up in a pile. He laughed and said “Oh, you want some ground and pound?” and proceeded to try and put me in a wrist lock. Prick. One of the guys ended up holding his legs and I wriggled out and got on top of him and held him down.  

That’s when his fiancé stopped by to tell me I had to let him up so she could take him home. No sweetheart, your asshole husband-to-be is going to jail. Then, the blushing groom told me that if I touch his girlfriend he’ll kill me. So I tried out this thing called a “rear naked choke.” I saw someone do it on the UFC one time. He started tapping the pavement madly as the small amount of oxygen that normally travelled to his brain was further impeded. Just a little reminder of where he was and how his situation was going. After a few minutes an RCMP officer came by to cuff him and drag him off. 

I know what you're thinking. "Dude, it was Valentimes day.You should have just let him go home and make sweet sweet love to his fiance." The way I figure it, we were doing  her a favour. What kind of man brings his fiancé to the local tap house for a Valentine’s Day singles party. Seriously. And any "sweet, sweet love" would have just been sweaty drunken flailing ending with him rolled up in a ball at the foot of the bed gently sobbing himself to sleep. While he was in jail she should have just set his stuff out by the curb and changed her number. I really hope they don’t procreate.

By then there were about 8 cops throwing cuffs on people, 7 bouncers holding people down, the DJ, bartenders and customers helping us out. I saw the bearded guy, who told me he respected me, getting thrown into the back of a police car. And his buddy, the guy who pushed someone for no reason? He was sitting on the ground. He was having trouble getting up because someone punched him in the face so hard his legs stopped working.  Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

Eventually it all got cleared up and we all went back inside. At 3:30am one of the cops came back to get our statements. As we were locking up, my bearded friend and his 3 buddies showed up looking for one of our guys. Apparently they felt like they had been mistreated by one of us. The biggest guy in their group, the one with the biggest mouth who never, ever seems to back it up, decided they should just leave.

So that was Feb 14, 2015 in my little town. Lots of love.

The Little Rascals

I can’t tell you how many times some guy has threatened to kick my ass while back pedalling away from me. Or while getting into a cab. Or from the comfort of their facebook wall. Usually when faced with the actual prospect of kicking someone’s ass (and possibly eating a few fists in the process) they wilt. It’s not our job to actually kick asses. We manage the door, head off trouble, and remove people who can’t seem to act like civilised adults. Sometimes we have to subdue assholes who can’t seem to let a night go without getting all punchy.

We had one bouncer working for us a while back who never, not once that I can remember, put his hands on anyone. Let’s call him Flexo. He was a body builder, not a tall guy but with mirror muscle. Nice guy, but completely useless as a bouncer. On two occasions that I recall, fights had broken out within 10 feet of him that he didn’t even notice. Too busy chatting with the nearest blonde. Or texting. Once I was running to stop a fight I saw from the back of the room and had to shove him on my way by for him to realize something was happening. Then he hovered over us while the rest of the team wrestled everyone down. He just didn’t want to get his hands dirty. Afraid to tear a bicep, maybe. Who knows. We’ll come back to Flexo.

The night wore on, and we threw out a girl for being too drunk and falling into a waitress and dumping her entire tray on the floor. She stood outside in the cold for about 2 hours crying. One of the guys noticed she was starting to look like Alice Cooper.  I tried to get her into a cab but she just wanted to stay outside getting frostbite. She changed from her heels into a pair of flip flops then back into her heels about 4 times, usually falling halfway through the exchange. She came to me and apologized for calling me an asshole (she hadn’t called me an asshole, or at least not that I heard) and tried to come back in a few times. Eventually she left.

At around 15 mins to closing a little hoodie gangster wanna-be, who had been in and out all night, came in with two girls. One of them I’d carded but the other was new. So I asked for ID and she didn’t have it. Little Hoodie Dude (who’s 3 apples tall and 120lbs if he’s an ounce) steps in front of me, pats his chest and says “She’s with me”

I looked at him a little confused at how that could matter and said “Sorry man, she needs her ID or she can’t come in.”

She looked at me and said yeah, she gets it, she’s just the designated driver, it’s ok she can wait outside, blah blah blah.

Little Hoodie Dude interrupts again and says “Yo, she’s with me” patting himself in the chest again.
So I leaned over and said “Dude, she could be with Jesus Christ himself, unless she’s got ID she can’t come in.”

He looks at me and says “Yo, I’m just trying to help you out”

By now he’d gotten my curiosity, and was beginning to irritate me at the same time. “Help me out with what?”

“Yo, it’s a negotiation you know” he informed me.
“Hmmm, no. It’s not. No one comes in without ID.” I repeated.
“Yeah yeah, its 50/50 you know, I’m just trying to help you out.” He said.
Yeah ok buddy. I can’t remember what happened next but he went away. I let the DD hang out just inside the door because it was freezing out and she definitely looked older than 17. Eventually she and her friend left without Little Hoodie, who was off somewhere being a space cadet.

At about 2:20 almost everyone was outside. I was letting stragglers out and keeping the departed from returning. Two of the door guys had gone out for a smoke. Suddenly a shoving match started and our two guys had to give up their smokes to break it up. I ran out and the guys from inside were right behind me. Here’s the weird little hoodie dude mixing it up with Flexo, of all people. One guy gets Flexo pushed back and another pulls weird Little Hoodie Guy back from what would have been a bad ending to his night. Then, Hoodie starts puffing his chest out and glaring at our door guy like he’s going to kick his ass or something.  Our guy let him know that, although he had the option to try, it would end badly for him.

Meanwhile, Flexo is screaming that he’s going to kick Hoodie’s ass, all the while allowing himself to be held back by our smallest team member. I couldn’t believe it. Here’s a guy who never even asked someone to leave the whole time he worked with us, and now he’s decided his debut fight is going to be a title match with a guy 50 lbs lighter and 6 inches shorter. And the whole thing started because Hoodie tripped and fell into Flexo (or one of his friends).

Nice to know that I’m now working with a group of guys that have my back in a scuffle. No matter how small the guy is.

The Sound of Music

I walked into the bar one day to visit a friend who was working a slow shift. As I sat down I heard some guy singing along (badly) with the music. I looked back towards the VLTs and the bartender and the waitress just sort of rolled their eyes. Apparently the guy had been there all day getting smashed and pumping his pay check into the machine. Cool.

He hollered that he needed another drink. The whole time she's taking his order, or delivering his drink he was talking. Half rambling, half flirting, and wholly making an ass of himself.

Finally she told him she was serving him his last drink. He was amiable about being cut off and happily took his rye and ginger. About 5 minutes later he said "Ok, I'll take 1 more double and then I'll settle up" he said.

The waitress apologized, said she couldn't serve him anymore and said when ever he was ready he could come up and pay. He argued a little, but she was firm. So he went and asked the bartender for a drink. She said no. That's when he decided he didn't order everything that was on his bill and the waitress was ripping him off. She explained his tab and he paid, saying that his change better be there cause she was a bitch who was bitch who was stealing from him. The bartender told he couldn't talk to her waitresses like that. He then announced that the bartender was a bitch and she could go fuck herself. Thats when I decided he should probably just go home.

I stood up and said "Alright pal time to leave" he did the exact thing drunk assholes do. He literally screamed "DON"T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!!"  What is it with drunks not being touched? Anyway, I stepped between him and the bar and started walking him towards the door. He scrambled backwards telling me he'd kick my ass. Then he stumbled and half grabbed my arm trying not to fall over. So we got into a little shoving match.

Suddenly he stopped and said he'd meet me outside. Then he ran and jumped in the air, kicking the door open on his way and ran into the night. I shrugged and turned around. One of my buddies had stood up and had my back, so that was nice. We laughed about the drunk in the parking lot waiting for a guy twice his size to come out and pound him into paste. I wondered how long he'd wait.

I got my answer a second later when he stuck his head in the door and screamed that I was a pussy. Then, in a great off balanced swooping arc he threw a handful of change at us. Most of it hit the ceiling about 10 feet ahead of him and bounced back down onto the floor.  I got up again and he turned and ran off into the night.  He'll be missed.

Wanted - A Friday night in early May

This dude walks in. Typical douche bag attire.

Affliction shirt, big chain, designer douche bag jeans, couple sleeves, in decent shape but walking around like he's carrying two heavy invisible suitcases. I already dislike this guy from a couple other times he's been in.

At some point he left and I didn't see him for a while. One of the guys asked me if I'd seen where he went but I didn't know. Well, seems a girl inside thinks he drugged her drink. Oh, I said not terribly surprised. Well, I'll keep and eye out and won't let him back in.

The next time I saw him he was in cuffs. Apparently our friend decided to take a leak on the side of the bar, in front of a cop car. (The bar was half empty, there was no line up, he just decided the side of the building was as good a place as any) While they were writing up his $300 ticket they ran his name and found out he had outstanding warrants somewhere else.  He spent the next hour in the back of a cop car while they figured out what to do with him. Meanwhile, I sent the girl who thought she was drugged home. (and I'm no crime scene investigator but I don't really think she was) She didn't want to leave, but I told her if she'd been drugged she needed to go to the hospital. If not, she was FAR to drunk or high to stay at the bar. She left unhappy.

Later, Captain Douche gets cut loose from the cops. He asked if he could come in and I said no. He started to plead his case and I told him I just don't care. He asked me if I could call him a cab. I pointed to the 2 that were parked 10 feet away. He shook his head, stopping to yell at the "drugged" girl's friends, informing them that they were bitches. Class act the whole way.

Later Dave walked out with a guy and told me that he stole a shot from the shooter girl. The guy said something along the lines of its not fair you won't hear my side of the story. He tried to come back in but I said no. Then he decided to try the "oh I've got a tab" routine. "No you don't" I said.
He argued with me for a while and finally said "So I got a bunch of free shots then? Thanks alot" and stuck out his hand. "I'm not going to shake your hand" I said.
"No, cause you're disrespectful" he replied. Well that pissed me off.
"Yeah, You're a thief but I'm the desrespectful one? Dipshit" (Ok, to be fair, dipshit is kind of a lame insult, but it was in the heat of the moment.)
He made fun of me for calling him a dipshit and stood around smoking for a few minutes. Oh, yeah, he didn't have a tab.

As Dipshit was leaving, Dave walked out another girl who had just done the same thing. She left on her own. Seems dipshits come in female too. Who knew?