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Everyone who read the title of this thread is probably wondering why I called it 'Four Shots'. Folks, that's how many shots I'm going to do while I tell you guys what happened tonight. Four stories, and when I tell them, I'll be taking a shot of Jager to help me calm down from tonight. Don't worry, I'm not an alcoholic. Yet.
And tonight was especially stressful, due to a large number of police patrols driving past the bar. Nothing like a continuous string of muttering 'God, let nothing happen tonight' over and over again to make me look sane...
Me: Got my Jager, my shot glass, and a lot to talk about right now.
SC: Each one is a year taken off my time in Purgartory if there's any justice in the afterlife.
CC: What few allies I have here.
SBM: Maybe it's the drugs, I dunno. Gotta be the weed, at least.
SG: New! Stupid Groupie. It's obvious they aren't hanging out for the music lessons... or any sort of schooling, for that matter.
Shot One: The Stub Marks The Other Side
Scene: I'd done a good job of keeping our loading zone clear most of the night. I even asked J, the owner, to move his motorcycle so the bands can load their stuff in and out (which he did almost immediately, bless him). It's hard to describe what the end of the loading zone is, because where it ends, there should be a sign, but there's only a flattened piece of metal in its place. The city doing its part, I guess. It looked like we'd have a clear loading zone for the rest of the night... up until a derp decides that his Navigator would look good taking up most of the damn zone.
Me: Can you move your van, please?
SC: What? Why?
Me: You're in our loading zone. We need to keep this clear for the--
SC: Well, where's the end of the loading zone? I don't see a sign.
Me: There used to be one, but some idiot cleaved the sign and the city hasn't replaced it yet.
SC: Show me.
(I walk over and point my foot at the spot I mentioned.)
Me: Until they replace the sign, we have to keep up on it.
SC: Well, I'm not gonna move, I just wanna ask someone something real quick.
Me: Move your van, please.
(Because if I lose my temper right now, that Navigator will look really pretty with a flat.)
SC: Hey, you gotta be 21 to come in, right? Well, here.
(SC almost throws his ID at me while he tries to get past me, but I block his path.)
Me: Move your van, please.
(SC tries to sidestep me, but I shift and keep him blocked. He and I end up waving to CC, who walks over and wants to know what's going on. We both tell him at the same time about the request to move, me mentioning that he refuses and him saying he doesn't have to. CC explains why he has to move, and he does.)
Me (to CC): Thanks, man.
(CC pats me on the arm as he and SC walk in. T, who's watching this whole thing, cards SC on his way in and he checks out. I go back to my door and slump. So much for an uneventful night.)
Shot Two: Damn It, Jim, I'm a Door Guard, Not a Valet!
Scene: A group of SBMs and their entourage are just... sitting outside, even five minutes after their equipment has been brought downstairs. Apparently, they're waiting on one more band member before they start loading their equipment out. Bad enough they're blocking the sidewalk, but the SBM they're waiting on finally emerges. With a beer in his hand.
(I intercept SBM on his way out.)
Me: You gotta take that back inside, man.
SBM: I need to get my equipment into the truck--
Me: Just set the beer down on the change machine inside; nobody's gonna fuck with it there.
SBM: Dude, I just--
Me: Inside.
SBM: Alright...
(SBM motions to SG.)
SBM: Come on. Help me finish this because this guy wants to be an asshole.
(No, dude. If I wanted to be an asshole, I'd have snatched it out of your hand, taken a drink from it, spit in it, then dumped it out. If I'm gonna be a prick, I'm gonna be a world-class asshole about it.)
SG: God, why're they so mean here?
(Because we like staying in business!!!)
Shot Three: No Favors
Scene: One of our regulars has a sister-in-law coming by, but she left her ID at home. He wants us to let her slide, because she's already gonna be 50. Problem is that if we get raided, they check the crowd's IDs and a lack of any sort of age proof is gonna screw us all over.
The conversation was way too long and overlapping at parts, but the short of it is this:
SC's side: She's of age, she's not even gonna drink, she's just gonna be here for a little while, blah blah blah fart fart fart.
Our side: She has no ID, we could get shut down if she's caught without ID, et cetera.
Winner: Nobody. She comes in through the door I'm not focused on while I'm dealing with another attempted run-off. We got extremely lucky we didn't get caught.
Shot Four: I Look Like Hugh Jackman, Apparently
Scene: During a lull once our show entrance closes, I notice a couple of guys walk out of the show door, and one of them looks like he's got something under his shirt. Sure enough, he tried to sneak out with a beer.
(I catch up with him before he leaves the property line and yank the beer out of his hand.)
Me: Thank you!
SC: Hey, Wolverine, why're you being a dick?
Me: Because I like having a job. Drive safe.
(I head back to my door, throw the confiscated beer away, and think that's the end of it. Nope. SC and his buddy stop across the street from me.)
SC: Hey, Wolverine! Fuck you!!!
(A few customers, including the SBM from Shot Two I mentioned a little while ago, see this. The SC and I exchange middle fingers before the SC speeds off. They're just lucky that 1) a cruiser didn't see them peel out, and 2) they didn't hit anybody.)
SBM: That's sad.
Me: I know. College age and still a fucking kid at heart...
Now if you'll excuse me, there's a gallon of water waiting for me in the fridge right now...
And tonight was especially stressful, due to a large number of police patrols driving past the bar. Nothing like a continuous string of muttering 'God, let nothing happen tonight' over and over again to make me look sane...
Me: Got my Jager, my shot glass, and a lot to talk about right now.
SC: Each one is a year taken off my time in Purgartory if there's any justice in the afterlife.
CC: What few allies I have here.
SBM: Maybe it's the drugs, I dunno. Gotta be the weed, at least.
SG: New! Stupid Groupie. It's obvious they aren't hanging out for the music lessons... or any sort of schooling, for that matter.
Shot One: The Stub Marks The Other Side
Scene: I'd done a good job of keeping our loading zone clear most of the night. I even asked J, the owner, to move his motorcycle so the bands can load their stuff in and out (which he did almost immediately, bless him). It's hard to describe what the end of the loading zone is, because where it ends, there should be a sign, but there's only a flattened piece of metal in its place. The city doing its part, I guess. It looked like we'd have a clear loading zone for the rest of the night... up until a derp decides that his Navigator would look good taking up most of the damn zone.
Me: Can you move your van, please?
SC: What? Why?
Me: You're in our loading zone. We need to keep this clear for the--
SC: Well, where's the end of the loading zone? I don't see a sign.
Me: There used to be one, but some idiot cleaved the sign and the city hasn't replaced it yet.
SC: Show me.
(I walk over and point my foot at the spot I mentioned.)
Me: Until they replace the sign, we have to keep up on it.
SC: Well, I'm not gonna move, I just wanna ask someone something real quick.
Me: Move your van, please.
(Because if I lose my temper right now, that Navigator will look really pretty with a flat.)
SC: Hey, you gotta be 21 to come in, right? Well, here.
(SC almost throws his ID at me while he tries to get past me, but I block his path.)
Me: Move your van, please.
(SC tries to sidestep me, but I shift and keep him blocked. He and I end up waving to CC, who walks over and wants to know what's going on. We both tell him at the same time about the request to move, me mentioning that he refuses and him saying he doesn't have to. CC explains why he has to move, and he does.)
Me (to CC): Thanks, man.
(CC pats me on the arm as he and SC walk in. T, who's watching this whole thing, cards SC on his way in and he checks out. I go back to my door and slump. So much for an uneventful night.)
Shot Two: Damn It, Jim, I'm a Door Guard, Not a Valet!
Scene: A group of SBMs and their entourage are just... sitting outside, even five minutes after their equipment has been brought downstairs. Apparently, they're waiting on one more band member before they start loading their equipment out. Bad enough they're blocking the sidewalk, but the SBM they're waiting on finally emerges. With a beer in his hand.
(I intercept SBM on his way out.)
Me: You gotta take that back inside, man.
SBM: I need to get my equipment into the truck--
Me: Just set the beer down on the change machine inside; nobody's gonna fuck with it there.
SBM: Dude, I just--
Me: Inside.
SBM: Alright...
(SBM motions to SG.)
SBM: Come on. Help me finish this because this guy wants to be an asshole.
(No, dude. If I wanted to be an asshole, I'd have snatched it out of your hand, taken a drink from it, spit in it, then dumped it out. If I'm gonna be a prick, I'm gonna be a world-class asshole about it.)
SG: God, why're they so mean here?
(Because we like staying in business!!!)
Shot Three: No Favors
Scene: One of our regulars has a sister-in-law coming by, but she left her ID at home. He wants us to let her slide, because she's already gonna be 50. Problem is that if we get raided, they check the crowd's IDs and a lack of any sort of age proof is gonna screw us all over.
The conversation was way too long and overlapping at parts, but the short of it is this:
SC's side: She's of age, she's not even gonna drink, she's just gonna be here for a little while, blah blah blah fart fart fart.
Our side: She has no ID, we could get shut down if she's caught without ID, et cetera.
Winner: Nobody. She comes in through the door I'm not focused on while I'm dealing with another attempted run-off. We got extremely lucky we didn't get caught.
Shot Four: I Look Like Hugh Jackman, Apparently
Scene: During a lull once our show entrance closes, I notice a couple of guys walk out of the show door, and one of them looks like he's got something under his shirt. Sure enough, he tried to sneak out with a beer.
(I catch up with him before he leaves the property line and yank the beer out of his hand.)
Me: Thank you!
SC: Hey, Wolverine, why're you being a dick?
Me: Because I like having a job. Drive safe.
(I head back to my door, throw the confiscated beer away, and think that's the end of it. Nope. SC and his buddy stop across the street from me.)
SC: Hey, Wolverine! Fuck you!!!
(A few customers, including the SBM from Shot Two I mentioned a little while ago, see this. The SC and I exchange middle fingers before the SC speeds off. They're just lucky that 1) a cruiser didn't see them peel out, and 2) they didn't hit anybody.)
SBM: That's sad.
Me: I know. College age and still a fucking kid at heart...
Now if you'll excuse me, there's a gallon of water waiting for me in the fridge right now...
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