| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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I made the mistake of going out to a bar I'd never been to/where I didn't know anyone & no one knew me. Becuz sometimes Life Is Like That -- or at least my life is. You just want to go out & get quietly & anonymously drunk while you read a book. Becuz you have no booze at home & the liquor stores are all closed. (Doesn't everyone do that in bars when they want to be left alone? No? Well, Fuck it then -- I read in bars when I'm alone & want to remain undisturbed.) I was minding my business in some dive/sipping my Johnnie Walker Black & not bothering anybody. I was not shitfaced. I realized when I walked in that this wasn't yr usual fern bar/wine bar/dinner-&-drinks establishment. They served no food -- just beer nuts. There were at least 6 Harleys in the parking lot. But the last time I rode a Harley/it was driven by an AVP from Greenwich who buys & resells them for a quick-&-tidy profit. Becuz the waiting lists are so long that Yuppie wanna-be's are willing to pay a premium not to have to wait 6 or 8 mos. for their bike to be delivered. (Frankly/I cdn't tell from the ride what the big deal is abt Harleys. But what do I know from motorcycles?) But the joint was close to home & it had a pool table & a juke box with Tom Waits "Swordfish Trombones" (which was how I first got hip to Waits) & "HeartAttack & Vine". So I figured I was at-home-away-from-home for the evening. And yeah/I got a couple of odd looks when I walked in/being the only dark face in the place. But that's never stopped me from going where I wanttogo. And no one was rude or came out their face. The barkeep served me promptly when I set a $20 bill down on the bar & placed my order. When I went to the loo the first time & left my change on the bar (but took my wallet w/me) it was all there when I came back. So all was well. But the 2nd time I went to the bathroom/I took my wallet w/me & accidentally left it in by the sink the john. I hadn't paid attention to see if anyone was in there while I was in the bathroom but apparently someone was. And I remembered my wallet less than a minute after I sat back down at the bar. So I went back for it. And there was some skank-ass biker bitch standing at the sink/rifling thru my wallet with my cash in her hand. So I punched her in her muthafuckin' face & told her all abt herself.. I mean/wd you have done differently? Then I proceeded to tell the bartender what had transpired/pointed out the fucking skell for all to see/& let him know that I didn't appreciate that bitch trying to rip me off in the fucking john. Meanwhile/this piece-of-walking-roadkill was boo-hooing about how I knocked her teeth out (I did not -- she cdn't have had more than 5 teeth to start with! Although I admit she was a bit bloody) & screaming for the cops. And the bastard behind the bar -- a biker bar/mind you -- called the cops! ON ME! I have only even been hauled off by the police once before in my life -- for driving without a license/in Boston during my Sophomore year of college. But everyone else I was with that nite was too drunk to drive/& I wasn't going to let them kill my ass in a car wreck. So I took it upon myself to drive everyone home. And that didn't turn out at all like I expected/but I did manage to get away with no arrest record. The muthafucking police got to the bar before I cd even settle my tab/talked to the bleeding theiving bitch/took her side of the story that I'd clocked her in the bathroom for no reason & hauled me down to the fucking precinct! They didn't even bring her with them -- she said she was going to the hospital for medical treatment & she'd come down the the station later. They didn't cuff me/but only becuz I talked "nice" enuf to them to make it clear I posed no threat. And they left me there/sitting in the middle of the fucking stank-ass squad room reeking of stale coffee & 7-11 hot dogs from 1:45 a.m. til almost 6:00 a.m./cooling my heels while they waited for this bitch to show up & poress charges. Which She Never Did. No/there was no one else in the bathroom to bear witness to what happened. But that's all the more reason for the cops to have taken ME at my word/or at least have told us both to leave the bar & let it go at that. And I'm not the least bit sorry for hitting that skank. But it certainly wasn't worth spending half the nite at the police station. Now I am going to check the boards & sincerely hope someone has posted something insanely funny to take my mind off this shit. So when was the last time you clocked somebody? |
before starting this, let me say that i'm a peaceful person. i hate bullies. i don't believe in fucking w/ other people unnecessarily. i'm thinking about making a post here later about something peaceful i want to achieve & now everything i want to say is going to seem contradictory after this. but i'm kind of paradoxical that way. i loathe humanity's lack of basic kindness, but if someone jumps me, well...there's a danger that i might retaliate. so, although i like to be as gentle-hearted a person as possible, i clocked somebody in a bar. first, you've got to understand how rare it is for me to even BE in a bar. i don't like crowds & i don't like noise. i don't like loud, ignorant drunks & above all, i can't fucking stand cigarette smoke. usually, a bar is a good place to find all 4 of these elements. i'm generally only found in clubs if i'm hired to play guitar in them. but i ended up getting plastered & agreeing to go to this nearby bar. it's a notoriously sleazy dive. the worst bar in town. fights every night. if you actually manage to get 86'd from this place, you're one seriously badass mothafucker. anyway, so this puke suddenly comes charging up to me--this drunken, pathetic baboon of a man. he's your basic middle-aged, white trash, hasn't-bathed-since-the-JFK-assassination kinda guy. i don't know him. never met him before. but he knows me. he recognizes me from my band. instead of coming up to say "hello" like a normal person, he makes a fundamental mistake. he grabs me by my shirt collar & jerks me up out of my seat, pulling me right into his face. "hey, bitch," he says, blowing his drunken, nasty breath at me. "you're the singer, right? you're the singer for that fuckin' band." "uh, yeah," i say. i'm already wanting to cut his throat. i HATE being grabbed suddenly. i also hate being that close to someone i don't know, unless, of course, i'm about to screw him. "well, cunt, you're a fuckin' SINGER, right? SING something! i wanna hear christmas tunes!" this guy is seriously out of control. he's getting really nasty, really fast. it's totally surreal. he's going off the deep end because he wants to hear some christmas carols. "get the fuck outta my face," i advise politely. then i raise myself up to my full, threatening 5'3" height & look directly into his bloodshot eyes, attempting to communicate my overall displeasure. "SING!" he screams. he grabs me & starts shaking me like a rag doll. he's insistent that i sing him some of his xmas favorites. he's getting totally belligerent. "what the fuck kinda singer are you? you ain't even fuckin' singing! you sing something, cunt, or i'm gonna break your pretty little face." now, i'm three sheets to the wind. i'm knee-walking drunk, in fact. i've got enough beer in me to kill a man. but i've gotta do something. my big, strong male friends are either passed out in the booth or have gone elsewhere. not that i'd depend on them for my protection, anyway. amazingly, i wasn't armed. it was just me versus this big, yammering prick. "SING!" he screams in my ear. he's violently shaking me by my hair w/ one hand & giving me little rabbit punches w/ the other. i'm too drunk to think of a logical, non-destructive way out. he kicks me right in the knee, the one i've fractured before. he informs me that if i don't sing, he's gonna teach me a lesson i'll never forget. he gives me a really hard, bruising punch to the arm. seeing no other way out, i take his fucking face off. i punched him so hard in the face that blood came spraying out his nose. his eyes rolled back into his head. not sure if i had his complete & undivided attention, i rapidly punched his groin, his sternum & his adam's apple. i picked him up off the floor & went running as fast as i could w/ him. i dashed his face repeatedly against the wall. i introduced his facial features to the brick wall & then to my upraised knee, in a series of delicate back-&-forth motions. i let him go for a moment. he slumped onto the floor. i turned him over & promptly began leaping on his kidneys like a goddamn deranged chimpanzee. i whacked him across the back w/ a cue stick while singing a rather truncated version of "the 12 days of christmas". i got up on a chair & took a flying leap right onto his spine. i rolled him over again & brought both fists down again on his face, which made him emit a terrifyingly effeminate shriek. in short, i handed the motherfucker his ass on a platter. then i went outside & staggered home, trying to avoid the cops. i was afraid that i'd get picked up on a public drunk charge, but i made it back to my apartment w/o further incident. the next day, i found out that i'd been 86'd from the bar. well, shit happens. before that incident, the only major times i've clocked anybody was in a college cafeteria (some guys from the baseball team decided to fuck w/ me), a nightclub parking lot (some redneck tried to rape me; i beat his face into a thin, paste-like consistency) & on a school bus (high school, somebody tried to fuck w/ my big brother). i very much dislike violence. we can all be creatures of violence when nailed to the wall. people who fuck w/ me are disrespecting my innate capacity to kill them. i really wish they wouldn't do that. fighting's not for me. on the whole, i'd rather be getting laid. |
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But RC, did you leave something out of your story? Because if I walked into the bathroom and found a wallet lying there, I'd probably pick it up and go through it too. I'd want to see how much money was in it and if there was any ID. She didn't pick the wallet out of your pocket, she found it lying by the sink. that doesn't sound like theft to me. did you say anything to her before you decked her? |
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I last punched someone in 8th grade for grabbing me. I knocked out two of his teeth. I hadn't really meant too, either...it happened before I could stop myself. I feel bad about it now. |
Since I'm here, I'll also add that I've hit my brother many many times, but never in the face. He's never hit me in the face either. I think I would have to kill him if he did. |
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But seriously, thats a real shit thing that happened, I hope that bitch needs stitches, or more even. I have only ever hit some one in fun/sport, ie; boxing, sparring. Except one fuck head that I had to throw out of a bar that I worked at. a little 'roid rage, and he started tearing the place apart, so I had to drop him. |
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2nd: I said "BITCH -- that's my wallet!" Then I punched her in the mouth. Does that make me a terrible person? Remember, this was not stray bills lying on the floor. Or a wallet left at a payphone on the street/or in an airport or a train station. Anyone who finds a wallet in the bathroom of a bar knows the owner is most likely just a few feet away. All they have to do is ask around/or if they're on their way out/give it to the bartender. It's Drinker's Ettiquette, y'know? Maybe I'm naive/but I try very hard to live by The Golden Rule: Do Unto Others As You Wd Have Them Do Unto You. I have found wallets twice in my lifetime. Both times/I looked thru them to find a driver's license (which was there)/called 411 (the 2nd time/the owner's # was unlisted/but I got the operator to ring thru w/out giving me the number) & told the owner that I'd found their wallet. In the first case/it was on L.I. where I ueed to live & the owner drove to my house to pick up his wallet that same day. (There was less than $30 in the wallet.) The 2nd time was in Penn Station. The wallet had nearly $600 in it & I found it a week to the day after my 28th birthday. It took all the strengh of character I cd muster not to keep that $$. Esp. when it took 2 days for the guy to contact me after I left a message on his machine! But he was out of town -- he met me in front of my job to retrieve his wallet. No reward was offered in either case. Nor was any reward expected on my part. You shdn't expect a bonus for doing what's right. Situations like this are where one's faith kicks in. I knew that if I kept that money/nobody but God & I wd know. And God wd not be pleased to see that I was such an untrustworthy individual. Esp. considering that some years after the 1st found wallet incident/I lost my own wallet & it was returned to me with my cash intact. (It was only $10/but still.) And I lost it once since moving to Sarasota/& it was turned into the Lost-&-Found at the local mall. (But someone had helped themselves to my $20-odd dollars.) But I did the right thing. Becuz that's what the Lord expects from the people who believe in Him. And becuz even if you don't believe in God/you know you wd be on yr knees praying that someone wd return yr cash-laden wallet if you happend to lose it! So no -- the fact that I was careless enuf to leave my wallet in the loo doesn't give her the Finders-Keepers excuse. If the skank had done the Right Thing/she wd have had free drinks on me for the rest of the nite. The only other time I've hit anyone who didn't hit me 1st was way back when I was like, 8 yrs. old. I know I have a temper/but I don't usually resort to fisticuffs. Esp. not in a bar. A bar-brawling-bitch I am not. |
The only times I've ever gone into bars are when you have to walk through them to get to the resturant, so I don't know much about Drinker's Ettiquette. But if I'd found a wallet in a bathroom, I really would assume it was lost (especially if I thought there was no one else in the room) and pick it up and check it out. and it if were the other way around and I'd lost my wallet in a bathroom and gone back for it and found someone going through it, I'd just ask for it back and begone. |
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The 1st thing you see when you open my wallet is my driver's license. Which shd've been the 1st thing she looked for -- NOT my cash. My license is visible thru a clear plastic window in the front of the portion of my wallet that is revealed when you pop open the clasp. It unfolds & voila! Identification. If she was looking for something with my name on it/there was no reason for her to go into the slots on the otherside of the wallet & pull out an ATM card which I keep in it's own little paper sleeve. But it edge of it barely peeks out of the slot is stays in -- i.e. you have to be looking for that item to find it. Fortunately/I'd left my credit card home that nite. If you think I overreacted/well, you're entitled to yr opinion, Patrick. But I'm still not sorry for punching that bitch. Anyway/I've been 86'd from that place/so I doubt I'll run into her again. |
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it's the adrenaline that saved my ass that time. the other weird thing is the acute moment of panic i felt when i saw blood coming from the guy's face. it went against everything i'd ever been taught. when i was a kid, any remote signs of aggression would be severely punished, while my brothers were encouraged to fight each other. every day, i was told that a girl couldn't ever get mad at anyone, because it wasn't god's will. i was to never show negative emotion or anger. if someone was hurt, i had to be a good girl & fix them up. when i saw the blood, my first instinct was to cradle him in my arms & fix it. but then i came to my senses & clobbered him again. |
Babee, how are ya? Long time no see, dude! Happy New Year to ya. And how are things in the wilds of Canada? |
I THINK stephanie pierce and her elvis church are still around. she's not at that cool ankeny location anymore, though. last time I saw her, which would have been three years ago or so, I guess, she was upstairs from a vietnamese restaurant. r.c. - I'm pretty sure I've told this story before. I got really mad at this guy who was obsessed with me in an uncool way. he moved into the seattle house I was staying in, and while I was in portland he rummaged through my things, stole some tickets, read my diary and letters, and then called me up to brag about what he had done. I lived anger for three or four days. I'd never felt that way before and I haven't since. my reasons for being angry were silly. we ran in the same circles, and I was mortified that he should know who I had crushes on. I didn't want him to have these tickets that I couldn't use anyway just because I didn't want him to be at the show, I didn't want him to bother me and my date. anyway, the next day I went back. I planned to sweet talk my way back into his confidence, then destroy all his possessions. but he wasn't there. so I had to break into his room. but, anticipating my want to cause him great misery, he had installed a lock on the door. so I went around to the window. anyway. |
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i'm makin' a meatloaf |
Glad to see i'm in such good company. :) |
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The bartender gig was fun, but it didn't include Net access. Which is why I went back into telecoms recently. Dual OC-12 addiction. |
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I'm not surprised she didn't want to go into the details with you. |