After work I walked into the bar that I consider my own personal Cheers. I know when I go I’ll always have a friend there. I walked in the front door and did my once over to see who was in the place. Bartender that I’m kinda dating, check. Friend that I do gigs with, check. Semi-friend that looks like Santa and drinks too much whiskey, check. So I head to our table.
I’m not even two steps into the bar when some drunken bag of douche turns in his bar stool, glances at the book in my hand, and says “You read?”. Instantly hating this person I very sarcastically say, “Why, yes. I can read. Can you?” which was a mistake because it invited a response. I don’t remember what other snarky drunken shit he said because I ignored it and sat down. Unfortunately, I had to go near him again to get my beer. He asked if I was married as he was looking at my snake ring. I sigh. Somehow this was met with, “What are you, forty?” I went back to my seat with my drink but he was close enough to keep talking. I advised that he should stop drinking. He was obviously way beyond his limit. I was able to avoid the douche for awhile until my friends went out to smoke. “You are really a bitch. Why won’t you be my Facebook friend?” He took out a dirty “business” card and kept trying to hand it to me. I finally took it so he would quit trying to touch me. The douche’s name is Brailey (of course) and he is a tennis instructor.
A girl showed up and hugged Brailey from behind. I think it was his prospective girlfriend. Earlier Brailey was on the phone with her claiming he was hanging out with a bunch of friends and she should come by. Mind you this guy had been drinking alone for several hours. He was drinking so heavily that he would continually forget he still had a full drink in front of him and demanded another. With the girl there he was finally off my case but I still got the occasional unprovoked nasty comment thrown my way.
Suddenly the bar gets slammed with people like I’ve never seen at that time of day. It’s just Mike working behind the bar and obviously stress level is going up. The last thing you would want to deal with is the belligerent drunk who is now screaming at you. Mike hit his limit and cut Brailey off. Brailey says “Why, cause you’re bald?” So Mike told him to leave the bar. It escalated. Mike (who only weighs 7 pounds more than me) comes out from behind the bar through the crowd of people, physically grabs the douche from behind and throws him out the door. Brailey threw a punch and missed. Mike didn’t miss. The douche is laid out on his ass. The whole bar is watching. The barback comes running up and holds the door closed while Mike went back to work. Brailey is trying his best to pull the door open and get back in while his humiliated friend collecting their shit to leave.
When I see guys fighting I usually think they look like assholes but I’ve gotta tell ya, watching Mike take care of this guy was surprisingly hot.
After Mike’s shift he was telling me all the asshole things that I didn’t even hear. It made me wish I had hit the guy right when I walked in. Mike said one of the things that sucks about having to get physical like that as a bartender is that you know nothing about that person but they know where to find you. You never know if they will come back. Then it dawns on me, I have Brailey’s card.
For defending my honor and your own hairline I gift this card to you. Do with it as you please.