The Bouncer Bandwagon
Since I enjoy reading Clublife so much, I'm going to jump on the bouncer bandwagon and tell you my one bouncer story. OK, not really a bouncer story, more of a not-so-badass busboy story:
In 1976 I was 17 years old, had just graduated high school and was attending Lincoln Technical Institute (overpriced trade school), learning how to install and service A/C and refrigeration units. At night I worked as a busboy at a place called the Crazy Horse Saloon in Barrington, NJ. Being under 18, I couldn't serve drinks so busboy or dishwasher were my only choices. I had been washing dishes till 3:00 AM at a restaurant in Seaside Park for the last 2 years, and getting up at 6:00 for school. I'd seen enough of that side of the restaurant business so I chose the busboy route. As a side note, is there a town in the U.S. that doesn't have a Crazy Horse Saloon? Are horses really that prone to craziness? What exactly does an equine have to do to earn that moniker? One would think horses have been domesticated for quite a few generations, and the nuttiness would have been bred out of them by now. Apparently not. But I'm getting off on a tangent here...
The establishment was a pretty nice bar/restaurant affair - Live band, dancing, nice atmosphere, good food. At some point in the evening, these two couples come in. The guys are absolutely freakin immense, two of the biggest guys I'd ever seen. It turns out they're two of the Philadelphia Flyers. I wasn't a hockey fan and wouldn't have known who they were if someone hadn't told me. All I knew was that I was going to stay out of their way. One of them had scored his 500th goal that night, so they took their SOs out to celebrate.
And celebrate they did, with the gusto you'd expect of people in their position and financial situation. They proceeded to get hammered.
The restaurant was handing out promotional items that evening - Frisbees emblazoned with the name of the restaurant. Like most ideas gone bad, I'm sure it seemed brilliant at the time. However, if you're drinking, how long can you look at a frisbee sitting on the table in front of you before the urge to throw it becomes overwhelming? But I give them credit for going with the frisbees, and not pepper spray or stun guns.
Somewhere along the way one of the SOs grabs a frisbee and flings it across the restaurant. People are yippee yahoo-ing and having a good old time. On her second throw, the frisbee takes out about 3 dozen wine glasses that were hanging upside-down over the bar. Broken glass flew everywhere.
The manager of the place comes running over to me and says "You're the biggest guy here, you need to throw them out, NOW". "Pardon me?" I queried. "If you don't go over to that table right now and throw those people out, you're fired."
I've done some unbelievably stupid things in my life, but I'm glad to say that wasn't one of them. Me, a 17 year old trade school schmuck / busboy, is going to forcibly remove two huge, drunken professional hockey players, people that knock teeth out for fun, from a bar? I don't think so, not on my best day. I was familiar enough with Darwin's theories to know what happens to the less fit, and these guys were the fittest, hands down. Their wives probably could have kicked my ass. So I handed the manager my official busboy apron and advised him to have fun.
It was an anti-climactic and sudden end to a lackluster busboy career, but I'm still here to talk about it. I don't think that would be the case had I followed the manager's urging. The timing was unfortunate though, I think I had a shot at the hostess.
Drink up men, it could be your last.
In 1976 I was 17 years old, had just graduated high school and was attending Lincoln Technical Institute (overpriced trade school), learning how to install and service A/C and refrigeration units. At night I worked as a busboy at a place called the Crazy Horse Saloon in Barrington, NJ. Being under 18, I couldn't serve drinks so busboy or dishwasher were my only choices. I had been washing dishes till 3:00 AM at a restaurant in Seaside Park for the last 2 years, and getting up at 6:00 for school. I'd seen enough of that side of the restaurant business so I chose the busboy route. As a side note, is there a town in the U.S. that doesn't have a Crazy Horse Saloon? Are horses really that prone to craziness? What exactly does an equine have to do to earn that moniker? One would think horses have been domesticated for quite a few generations, and the nuttiness would have been bred out of them by now. Apparently not. But I'm getting off on a tangent here...
The establishment was a pretty nice bar/restaurant affair - Live band, dancing, nice atmosphere, good food. At some point in the evening, these two couples come in. The guys are absolutely freakin immense, two of the biggest guys I'd ever seen. It turns out they're two of the Philadelphia Flyers. I wasn't a hockey fan and wouldn't have known who they were if someone hadn't told me. All I knew was that I was going to stay out of their way. One of them had scored his 500th goal that night, so they took their SOs out to celebrate.
And celebrate they did, with the gusto you'd expect of people in their position and financial situation. They proceeded to get hammered.
The restaurant was handing out promotional items that evening - Frisbees emblazoned with the name of the restaurant. Like most ideas gone bad, I'm sure it seemed brilliant at the time. However, if you're drinking, how long can you look at a frisbee sitting on the table in front of you before the urge to throw it becomes overwhelming? But I give them credit for going with the frisbees, and not pepper spray or stun guns.
Somewhere along the way one of the SOs grabs a frisbee and flings it across the restaurant. People are yippee yahoo-ing and having a good old time. On her second throw, the frisbee takes out about 3 dozen wine glasses that were hanging upside-down over the bar. Broken glass flew everywhere.
The manager of the place comes running over to me and says "You're the biggest guy here, you need to throw them out, NOW". "Pardon me?" I queried. "If you don't go over to that table right now and throw those people out, you're fired."
I've done some unbelievably stupid things in my life, but I'm glad to say that wasn't one of them. Me, a 17 year old trade school schmuck / busboy, is going to forcibly remove two huge, drunken professional hockey players, people that knock teeth out for fun, from a bar? I don't think so, not on my best day. I was familiar enough with Darwin's theories to know what happens to the less fit, and these guys were the fittest, hands down. Their wives probably could have kicked my ass. So I handed the manager my official busboy apron and advised him to have fun.
It was an anti-climactic and sudden end to a lackluster busboy career, but I'm still here to talk about it. I don't think that would be the case had I followed the manager's urging. The timing was unfortunate though, I think I had a shot at the hostess.
Drink up men, it could be your last.
posted by RutDweller at 8:53 AM
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