May 04, 2005
I knew a lot of "bouncers" in my guitar-playing days and I liked most of them. They were big, hefty weight-lifting guys who weren't afraid of a fight. Most nights, they had the best job in the world: check IDs at the door and then just stand around and appear intimidating.
But every now and then, the shit hit the fan. You mix alcohol, flirty wimmen and a pool table in a room full of horny men and trouble finds its way into the equation. A fight sometimes broke out. That's when bouncers had to do their job. And most of the ones I knew were damn good at it.
That's how I learned never to fuck with a bouncer. Like a cop, he's got back-up, and you're a lot better off just leaving the bar rather than starting a ruckus. I've BEEN grabbed by shirt-collar and belt and tossed out of a bar before by a bouncer. It ain't a pleasant experience.
I learn quickly, and I stopped doing that kind of shit a long time ago.
Here's a story about bouncing that brings back some not-so-fond memories to me. I think I would have liked this guy if I played in the bar where he worked.
I knew some other bouncers that LOVED to see a fight break out in a bar so that they could smash somebody's nose and shatter a few ribs. They liked blood. I tried to avoid those guys. They were dangerous. I always figured that a bouncer's job was to break up fights and get the troublemakers out the door--- NOT to damn near kill somebody.
But bouncers are no different from ANY profession. You have your good ones and you have your bad ones.
"I knew some other bouncers that LOVED to see a fight break out in a bar so that they could smash somebody's nose and shatter a few ribs. They liked blood."
I doubt all of 'em liked blood. I'll wager some of them were just setting the ground rules to show the hooligans who the "top dog" was...
Been there, done that. "big, hefty weight-lifting guys who weren't afraid of a fight"
Although you could add "but would rather talk his way out of a fight than not" to apply to me. Sometimes I managed to talk down the drunk.
Other times a cheap shot to the solar plexus, throat, or balls brought 'em down.
Either way, I never went home with blood on my shirt that didn't belong to someone else...
I rather talk em out then fight.
The Acidman reminds one of some ill-spent youth. I took a job delivering box lunches to a local army base. The restaurant was owned by my then- girlfriend's brother in law. Part of this place was a tittie bar also, with a 240lb guy named Otis.. from Dee troit as we'd say. Whatever you said to Otis was uttered respectfully, believe me. One weekend his momma got real sick, so he left on short notice, leaving a coupla pretenders to handle it. I was good sized for a young guy, and Roger, the owner asked if I would hang around and back up these guys. Well... of course, the merde hit the ventalateur, and I snuck up on one guy and managed to get him from behind in a semi choke, I guess. He quit rasselin' and said he'd leave. OK. He then bends over and picks up the fuckin' KNIFE he dropped and gets out the door. It was dark in there, and I never saw no knife come out, and I watched the WHOLE thing develop. Otis can have it, man he earned his $ doin that shit .
A good bouncer intercepts trouble BEFORE it turns into a fight. You guys are correct. Even a crazy drunk can be talked down if you approach the situation the right way.