Tales of a Bouncer: “Dude, Good Punch.” Part 1

Many regular bar patrons look at bouncers as jacked-up nimrods who work in one of the only industries that have a sincere appreciation for the size that mom and dad genetically handed to them.  They believe that with said size comes an inward need to kick ass and chew bubble gum…and believe that we are all out of bubble gum.  I cannot speak for the bouncers of the world, for I am but one man.  What I do know is that I am not a fan of resorting to fisticuffs.  Rather than getting violent, I choose to solve my problems and altercations verbally.

It is our wits that make us men.

Then again, there is that rare occasion where a near-fatally intoxicated shitburger chooses to chap the tits of the big man.  Hell hath no fury of a bouncer’s scorn.

As I have stated in past blog posts, I enjoy the occasional cocktail(s).   Since I am a fairly sizeable young lad, there is not an abundance of bar patrons that are bigger than me.  Regardless of the fact, if the late great Andre the Giant walked into my bar (probably dragging a keg of some sort of European lager under each arm), I am not going to make that big drink of water angry.  If anything, I am going to force him to tell stories of the thousands of groupies that undoubtedly pleasured him and “Ravishing” Rick Rude while driving to wrestling shows in the 80’s.  (Please respond to this blog with any kind of visual you received after reading that)

Thankfully, there was only one occasion that involved a bar patron attempting to tussle with me while on duty.  I am telling this story for entertainment purposes, not out of pride.

Since my bar is located on a college campus, there tends to be a lack of available workers over Christmas break.  Being that my hometown is only a half hour away from campus, I usually chose to stick around to work and earn a little extra money for presents for my siblings whom I love very much.  I was bouncing on what I believe to be a Thursday night.   There could not have been more than four people at the bar.  For the first time in three years, I was afraid to break wind while bouncing because it would be all too apparent who it was.  Once again, I am a large man.  With this size comes a deep affection for buffalo wings and Taco Bell.  The results tend to be catastrophic.

The point is that the bar was f*cking dead.

All of a sudden, a group of ten guys walk in apparently celebrating the 21^st birthday of a friend.  Some, if not all of them looked and smelled like they had been practicing their breaststroke in a pool of Jim Beam.  With business being so slow due to the holiday, I figured that it would be pretty easy to supervise these idiots, so I let them in.  All of five minutes went by and the birthday boy is sound asleep at the table the group was sitting at.  He was more unconscious than Snookie at a spelling bee.

Understanding that business was slow, and also understanding that our bar is firmly against patrons passing out on the premises, I simply walked up to the table and said, “I understand that it is this guy’s birthday.  Please keep him awake.”

I took three trips over to this table, and the inebriated wank stain kept passing out after each trip.  Finally, I informed that group that they did not all have to leave the bar, but someone had to take birthday boy outside.  The ringleader found it necessary to look me dead in the eyes and say, “Go f*ck yourself.”

Now, before this young man’s abrasive response, I firmly believed that I was rather cordial.  I mean…three trips over to that table to keep that asshat awake?  When I was a little boy, I burnt my hand on the stove.  It never happened again because I took a f*cking hint.  Apparently, the birthday boy and his band of merry morons were unable to take the hint.

Obviously, I kicked them all out.  What happened next was something I did not even come close to anticipating.  As I was standing at the front door, I heard a “CRASH!!!” (I don’t know how to create a comic book sound effect bubble. Sorry, kids) come from the dining room.  This was the beginning of what led to the only punch I ever threw as a bouncer.

…..TO BE CONTINUED.

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