Talking with a guy in a restaurant the other day, I was reminded of a few stories/exchanges from the last several years...
Snotty NYU bitch: "I'm never coming back to this bar. It stinks like vomit!!!"
As she turned away, the source of the odor she was complaining of was evident. The back of her skirt was covered in barf. I'm guessing someone lost their Chicken a la King on her. Oh, well.
St. Patricks Day -
A young lady staggered from the bar, leaned over the A-frame sign, and blew chunks in front of God and everyone. After her purge, she lurched over to the wall of the next building and proceeded to dry heave for several minutes. During this time, her dutiful boyfriend exited the bar to be supportive, hold her hair and do the "good boyfriend shit".
When she finished expunging the devil liquor from her system, she rewarded him in classic style. With a a hug and a kiss. He tried to pull away, but wasn't quick enough. When they separated, he had a nice racing stripe of barf running from the middle of his chest to his belt. Ah, young love.
Randomness II -
As I was escorting a young gent to the door for acting like an asshat, he stopped abruptly and announced "I don't wanna be here anyway! This bar SUCKS!!!"
Me: "You know, you're right. Let me fix that"
I took him by the shoulders and moved him out the door onto the sidewalk.
"There, now the bar doesn't suck anymore. Thanks for pointing out the problem, douche."
You're Parents Must Be Proud -
I entered the bar from a smoke break and saw one of the regulars flagging me relentlessly.
Ed: "That guy...PEE!"
Me: (looking at a guy at a table by the door sitting with his back to the wall) "That guy? What? When?"
(leaning over, I saw the monkey-fuck was, in fact peeing on the floor at that exact moment in time)
I casually walked towards the door. As I approached the failure in Darwinism, I grabbed the table and jerked it away. He was like a deer caught in the headlights...with his johnson hanging out. He tried to run by me, but I grabbed him by the arm and shoulder.
I presume he was fearful of catching a beating, so he collapsed on the floor and curled up in a ball. I quickly made an executive decision. Since he couldn't have weighed more than 150, I decided to allow him live, but endure a different kind of "walk of shame".
I grabbed one leg and his hair and began sliding him back and forth on the floor. I was, in fact, mopping up the pee with the little douchebag.
He screamed, and protested that I was "getting pee" on him. Well no shit, rocket scientist.
After several swipes through the puddle, I let him go. He was drenched on his back and side from his hair to his shoes in his own urine. Ah, sweet satisfaction. He left, crying, never to return.
He never bothered to put his tool away, even as he left. What a butt-munch.
Words of advice for when you go to the bar -
Have an idea of what you want. If you say "Oh, just make me something good." I'll respond "Oh, I'm sorry, I only know how to make drinks that taste like flop sweat."
It's more than a little silly to complain that a bar is crowded on a weekend night. If a bar isn't busy on a weekend night, they'll soon be out of business. Find something else to bitch about.
If you really think it's acceptable to recycle random drinks (ie pick up discarded drinks and consume them as if they were your own), please find the nearest national park, cover yourself in a blanket of raw meat and wait for wild animals to come consume you. You're too dumb to live in my world.