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.

First Impressions

I was standing in front of the bar when a girl in a slinky dress popped out from the door and bounced in front of me.

“Hi, are you the full time bouncer?” she asked in a cheerfully weird accent I couldn’t quite place.
“Uh, yeah”
“Cool!” she said “So if anything goes down you’ll protect me?”
“Actually I was kinda hoping you’d protect me, I’m only little” I joked.

She laughed and ran her hand down my arm smiling huge. Wait, is this little drunk chick hitting on me?

“Its so nice to have some big strong guys around. The last place I worked we didn’t have any bouncers so I had to break up fights myself” she said.

Ohhh, this is the new waitress. Ok, this is all coming together now.
“Well, you look like you could handle it” I teased. 

She grabbed my arm, and laughed, leaning over so I could see down her top. Then squeezed my elbow and went inside saying she’d see me around.

She went to the bar and sat with two knuckleheads. The type of guys that arm themselves with an ‘eat shit and die’ look on their faces at all time. The guys that smoke like there’s really no time to be smoking and fling their butt’s angrily at the ground for no reason, only to return to their beers and their ‘eat shit and die expressions’. Exactly the type of guy that attracts girls like our new waitress.

About 10 minutes went by when we got a call from Big A on the radio. “Need bouncers in the men’s room!” James and I hustled to the back leaving CT to man the door.  We got to the hall and the two ‘eat-shit-and-die’ guys were coming out of the bathroom, followed by the new waitress wearing a weird smile like this was some sort of fun game, and finally Big A.

“We’re leaving” the first guy growled, wiping white powder from his hands.
The two men grabbed their smokes and keys from the bar and left. The new waitress kinda hung out by the door.

“What are we gonna do about this” I said to James and Big A.
“Kick her out! I don’t care if she’s staff or not, she was doing coke in the handicap stall with two guys”

He was right.
“Yeah you gotta go”  I said.

“I just went in there to warn them not to do it or they’d get kicked out” she lied.
“Yeah, in a locked stall with two guys?” quipped Big A.

She hung out outside for a bit. Then she decided she needed to talk to someone who was still inside. She started calling to them, trying to get them to come out.

“You need to leave” I said to her. By now that manager had caught wind that the new waitress just got thrown out for blow after her second shift. Hanging out and causing a scene was going to do nothing to keep this girl’s job safe.

“I think you need to leave”
“You need to shut the fuck up” she replied.

Suddenly I didn’t care much what happened to her job.Her friend came out and they talked by the curb. He was telling her she needed to smarten up, and she was arguing about that. Finally the friend went back inside, shaking his head. She came to the door and asked me, as sweet as can be, if she could come in and talk to the manager. 

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea” I said.

She walked away and smoked angrily with a small group of people. I over heard her say “That fucking asshole wouldn't let me back in” pointing my way. Eventually her friend came out with some buddies and they wandered away from the bar. 

I didn't work the next day but I found out she’d been fired. I suspect she'll show up at the bar with a group of friends next weekend like nothing happened. I don’t think she’s going to find a particularly warm welcome. Oh, and it turns out she'd been hitting on everyone!

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.

Space Oddessy

A few weeks ago we had a little excitment.

There’s a guy who used to come in. He was not well liked. He is big, arrogant, swaggered around like he owned the place. I'm not sure he's that bright, certainly does not take direction and is pretty rude to some of the staff. Then one day, he came in with a tattoo that was almost identical to one that one of our female bartenders had. I thought she was over reacting until, weeks later, I finally saw it. It was actually pretty creepy. Not only was it a blatant rip off, but it was almost in the same spot on his arm, and given that he flirted with her every time he came in…it was pretty creepy. The door guys agreed to keep a better eye on him when he was around. That problem solved itself later in the evening.

Here's a couple articles on why you shouldn't rip off other people's tattoos. Other than it being creepy and douchey: 

www.margotmeanie.com/2013/10/16/dont-be-a-tattoo-copy-cat/ 

http://www.yourtattooguru.com/etiquette/copycat-tattoos-and-why-not-to-get-them/

Time went by, we ID’d people and kept an eye on things. At some point just before dark, (Dark in Canada in June is like 11pm) a guy, his girlfriend and his sister showed up. The sister was a fucking space cadet. She was 100 lbs soaking wet, vacant look in her eyes wearing one of those flat brimmed Fox Racing ball caps that was way too big for her Chihuahua-like melon. I asked her a few questions and she kinda half answered, unimpressed that I was interrogating her with intrusive personal questions like, “Hows your night going? What are you guys up to tonight? Been anywhere else this evening?” At anyrate she didn’t seem like too much trouble, just a fucking space cadet. If I didn’t let space cadets in the place would be half empty most of the time.

An hour later a fight breaks out. James and I run in, Big T is holding a group of people back. Tattoo Guy and his buddies are on the other side of the confrontation and just turned and left. Ok, that problem is solved. I turn to the other guy, the space cadet’s brother, who’s being blocked by Big T from following Tattoo Guy and his boys.

“Im gonna kill that fucking guy” He screamed.
“Calm down, what happened?”
“He fucking sucker punched me!” He screamed.
“Stop screaming” I looked at the bartender who was nodding that yes, that was indeed what happened.
Screamer tried to get by us and we pushed him back.
“Hey! We’ve kicked them out, its over!” I said “If you wanna calm down and relax you can stay and enjoy your beer with your friends.”

He tossed that around for a bit, then leaned back apprehensively, muttering about who he was going to kill and when. I watched the video later and tattoo guy had open hand slapped Screamer while he was talking to someone else. He hit him so hard he knocked over two chairs as he flew across the front of the bar.

That’s when someone told us there was a fight going on outside.

We ran out to find Space Cadet latched on to one of Tattoo Guy’s buddies near their car. He was spinning around like a whirling dervish trying to peel her off. She had her claws caught up in his TShirt, screaming at him. We went over and tried to pull her off, but she wouldn’t let go. Finally buddy just slipped out of his shirt, jumped in his car and drove away. 

Space Cadet then turned and swung at James, hitting him with her tiny meth fist. He simply pushed her over. She landed on her ass, scrambled to a crouch, then, like something out of a videogame, threw a giant exaggerated uppercut, catching James in the junk. He threw his hips back and shoved her back again. She got up again and tried to kick him. This time he grabbed her foot out of the air and lifted. Boom. On her ass again. He grabbed her arm flipped her on her face and told her to calm down. 

Well that was it. Now she was mad. She was going to sue. We were monsters for hitting a girl, we were going to jail, she was going to kill us, what were our names, she was pressing charges. Etc. etc. Finally I tagged James out, he let her up and I stepped between them. I tried to calm her down but she was in some sort of Jack Daniels/Meth Fueled hysteria. That’s when the mall cop showed up. A gangly private security guard in a smart uniform hopped out of a marked security vehicle and decided he would take charge. Fine by me. I left Space Cadet in his care. I turned to see her brother, the Screamer, being held back by Big T. Perfect.

Eventually we all went back to the door. Big T let the brother go telling him to stay away from the door. James was standing by the door, visibly angry and rightfully so. I was frustrated by this point. We let the sister back in to grab Space Cadet’s wallet so they could leave. That’s when space Cadet wheeled away from the security guy and got in my face. “I want that guys name” she flung a bony meth-head finger at James.

“I don’t know his name”
“Yes you do” she spat, then tried to get back in the bar.
“You can’t go in, you need to leave before you get arrested” I said.
“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” With that, she jumped a full foot off the ground and headbutted me in the bridge of the nose. I pushed her as she came up and she went flying back into the gravel across the sidewalk.  The mall security professional then grabbed her and pulled her away, squirming and wriggling trying to get back at me.

That’s when the cops showed up.

I guess somebody had called as this had been going on for some time. Upon seeing 6 cruisers pull into the parking lot, the hillbilly threesome decided they should leave. They headed toward the road when one of the cops pulled up and asked me what was going on. I pointed to my new friends and said they were involved in a fight, we just wanted them gone. “No problem”

He said something into his radio and our scrappy threesome was stopped by another set of RCMPs. 

We could see them talking with the group then suddenly the brother got cuffed and thrown in the back of a cop car. The officer I’d talked to earlier came by and asked what happened. I told him and he just laughed. He said the brother was being an asshole and was spending the night in the tank. 

“You know, if they’d just calmed down we would have let them stay” The cop just shrugged and walked away saying they definitely wouldn’t be back.

So now Tattoo guy is finally banned and his creepiness/sucker-punchiness will no longer be our problem. Some things solve themselves.

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 Lady Killers

Its my party, I'll cry if I want to...
I was late getting to work Saturday because I scored tickets to see the Flames wipe out the 'Nucks. Best night at the Dome I can remember since '04. I arrived to find the bar a little busy, lots of new faces. Right away I noticed one of our regulars, standing on a stool, shouting at someone across the bar. Or shouting to no one, just sort of letting herself be heard. Turns out my spikey haired, bleach blonde bar-star was having a birthday. She came by and hugged me and told me it was her 44th. Super.

A bit later one of the boys told me that she'd flashed the bar. Fortunately modesty had prevented her from actually hefting her lady bits from her bra for the world to see. Did I say modesty?  Thanks to a 7 hour liquid diet it was more like the fine motor skills of a fumbling 15 year old boy in the back seat of a car on prom night preventing her jubblies from gracing our presence. But I digress.

Later in the evening she staggered by my station on the dance floor, looked me up and down and sneered, "You? As a bouncer? Pfft." She rolled her eyes dramatically and stumbled to the door. Outside she attempted to body check someone she knew, but missed, lost her balance and smashed her face into the rough concrete of our building, sliding face first down to the sidewalk. Someone helped her up, she wiped away a tear and trucked back into the bar for another savage assault on her liver.

Shortly after that she decided it was time to go home and headed to her car. Our manager and a couple of the boys sweet talked her into a cab that whisked her away into the night.

Georgia Peach
A foursome approached the door. The first girl was wearing a short peach dress. She walked up and confidently showed me her passport. Well...someone's passport, but certainly not her's.  I told her she couldn't come in. As they walked away I heard her say we were "stupid fucking bouncers" and they'd go to another bar. Fine by me. I texted the other bar to let them know an under-aged girl in a peach dress was coming by with someone else's passport. They thanked me for the heads up and assured me she wouldn't be drinking there either. If she had just been nicer to me she might have gotten in and had a fun night.

Fightin' Irish
Some dude was jumping up and down and fell over. I asked if he was ok and he went on a rant that he was jumping up and down because some guy was talking to him. "I see" I said. "Ok, I'll tell the guy to stop talking to you if you promise to stop jumping up and down" He agreed to that.

A short time later, there was a blond girl in a leather skirt and red top on the dance floor. She was dancing and fell down. Then she fell down again. I looked at her friends and said, "Is there someone who can take her home?" They pointed to the guy who fell down from jumping up and down; her husband. Great. So I grabbed him and said "Dude, you need to take her home, she's way too drunk." 

"It's ok she's Irish," he replied. 

"No, not ok she's gotta go." I countered. 

Husband-guy accepted that, on the condition that I tell her that her leaving is my idea. "Sure," I said. We went over and he told her it's time to go, then looks at me. "Yeah, I'm sorry miss, you're gonna have to call it a night," I said, "You're just really drunk and I don't want you to hurt yourself."

She wasn't having it. She looked at her husband and tore a strip off him for always ruining her fun. Again I said, it wasn't him, it was my decision that she leave. As I'm explaining this, the husband just walks away and leaves me to throw out his wife while he looked for another beer. Thanks, dick.

So I helped her to her table, helped her find her boots, and her purse, and her jacket. She started to cry. I told her it was ok. Then she told me she'd kill me with one of her boots. I said ok, she could do that if she wanted. After 10 minutes I got her safely outside and asked if I could get her a cab. She looked at me and screamed "I'm FUCKING IRISH!!"

So I've heard. The husband was nowhere to be found so I went back in and let the boys handle the logistics of getting her home. I saw her and her husband arguing in the parking lot about 10 minutes later. A toast to the happy couple!

Project Run Way
A middle aged woman sat with her friends and got wasted. She's the type who never really drinks anymore, so she has no idea how quickly she'll get drunk after 3 cosmos. She shuffled off to dance, and after a few songs shuffled back to her spot. Her friends decided it was time to leave, but Cosmo couldn't find her jacket. "I'm not leaving without my fucking jacket!" she announced. Before long half the bar is looking for her jacket. It was brand new, she wasn't fucking leaving without it. It was quickly found on a chair by the dance floor where she left it. She snatched it from her friend, slammed down her drink and proceeded to flip off the entire bar, for being treated so poorly I can only assume,  before shuffling out after her friends. 

Three's company

Ok, I wasn't here for this one, but my buddy at the door told me about it so I'll share. There's this knuckle head who comes in. He's a little wiry guy, who's entire life is a "Thug- Life" parody. Unless his hip hop career takes off. Then I'll be eating my words. But until the market for 'angry little white dude's from farming communites who rap about being hard and living large' takes off I think I'm safe. 

He wandered in the other night with 2 buddies and didn't have his ID. It'd been taken away for driving drunk. Good life choices, genius. We know who he is, so he was let in, and warned to behave. A couple of hours later a member of his posse went out to their truck with a girl he'd just met. Before long, the truck starts 'a rockin', leaving little suspicion as to what's happening. 

Shortly after that, our little drunk driver decided he needs to check on his buddy. He wandered over and hopped in the truck. After a minute or two the truck stared rockin' AGAIN. Eventually the rocking stopped and after short intermission, they all hopped out, went back to the bar and resumed drinking. And they say romance is dead! The third guy got thrown out for doing blow in the bathroom. 

So really, an all around good night for everyone. 

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.

Star Wars Episode X: Return of the Hoodie

One of our kitchen guys ended his shift, parked himself at the bar and got hammered. Dirt kissing, TPB, bad decision making drunk. But he wasn’t hurting anyone, ('cept his liver and some aquaphobic brain cells).  He's a really good guy and great cook, and I like food, so we kind of let him be.

He staggered out for a smoke at one point and teetered to and fro. I asked if he was ok and he half mumbled, half yelled an incoherent response (imagine crazy cat lady from the Simpsons). I asked the bartenders to cut him off and they told me they had already. A while ago.

At around 2 we were dealing with the usual end of night stuff when some girl pointed at our staff member and said “He stole my friend’s sweater”

“Who? Him? Nah, he works here, he wouldn’t do that” I said, but I went over to Wolfgang Lush and asked him if it was his anyway. He swore up and down it was his sweater. He knew it. It was a white Star Wars sweater, it was his.

I said “Is there any chance that it’s not yours? I mean, I’m sure there’s more than one white Star Wars sweater in the galaxy”. 

No, no way, uh-uh, it was his fucking sweater, he fucking  knew it.

Ok then. The investigation continues. I went outside to talk to the girl who started this whole thing. I asked if she was sure he wore it in there that night, because by now, the bartenders were telling us they’d seen our guy wearing it all night long.

“Look” she said sticking a finger in my face “I know that guy, I work with him, and that’s his sweater. He wears it every day. That fucking loser stole it” she flung her finger at the Hammered Gourmet.

“So there’s no chance that there could possibly be two white Star Wars sweaters out there somewhere?”  she took a long drag off her smoke and turned away from me.

By now, Chef Boyardrunk was arguing with the other guy, who was being a total dick about the whole thing. Finally, in a not so well thought out move, our cook pulled off the sweater and said, “Fine, he can fuckin’ have it, but it ain’t his!” then flung it at the dick head, who simply put it on. The cook went outside and paced about, asking me several times if he could go back in and punch the guy. Given his extreme lack of coordination and balance, that seemed like a bad idea.

After about 10 more minutes of arguing, the cook got MAD. The injustice of the situation was blowing his mind. Then he and the dick left, both angry and in opposite directions.

The next day I ran into our cook he looked a litte rough, I felt bad. I asked if he found the sweater.
“No, that fucking guy stole it” he spat, clearly still angry. He explained that he went home and tore his apartment apart and didn’t find it, so that guy must have stolen it.

I shook my head. “No bud, you never had a sweater on the whole night, we checked the security footage”
“Really?” he marveled.
“Yeah, the other guy walked in wearing that sweater” I said.
“Oh fuck,” the cook sighed, “I’m so fucking fired!”
“Nah, it takes a lot more than that to get fired from around here. Just apologize and maybe don’t get sorority girl wasted at work for a while.” 

He didn’t look convinced but went back to cooking.  It turns out his sweater was at his mom’s place, he found it a day or two later. And he didn’t get fired. And he makes the BEST spicy avacado chicken sliders, so really it all worked out in the end.

May the force be with you.  Especially on chilly days.

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.