Bums, backpacks and drunk bastards

In six months of working the door at Arnie's Bar, I had never experienced a night as equally slow and weird as last night.

There was just something in the air. It was a bit chilly, and the barometric pressure just made everyone kinda groggy. Everyone who came in the bar didn't look like they were ready for a night of fun. Instead, it was a "okay, let's have a few beers" kinda vibe. I did have three highlights of my shift.

1. There's a new bum wandering around downtown with a real psycho streak. Most other bums have learned to avoid being seen around Arnie's. Sure, I have to give each of them an inital warning early in the night. I catch them in the act of stopping our customers, and I tell them that if I catch them doing it again I will call the cops. Now, most of them see me at the door and walk right past making sure to not bother anyone.

Every bum you see downtown has their own gimmick. Some of them claim to just want money for gas or a bus ticket or diapers for their baby. Some show you some form of ID, like a driver's license or even a K-Mart credit card, as if that's proof that they're an upstanding member of society...that just happens to be downtown, at night, wearing months old dirty clothes and body odor that smells like canned tamales. A few of themk try religion; proclaiming the salvation of the Lord, which coming from a homeless guy, isn't a great selling point.

This new bum's schtick is to walk up to someone, ask them how they're doing, and proceed to mumble to and annoy his mark until they give him some money. He never really asks for money, he just bugs you until you feel there's no option other than pay him off.

The first couple time I encountered this guy, I asked him politely to go away. Now, I get right in his face and order him to fuck off. At this point, he just screams back, saying he has a right to be here. I had to get in his face twice last night. The first time, he yelled at me as he walked away. the second time, he tried to ignore me and continue to talk to one of our customers. This time, when he could not ignore me any more, he challenged me to a fight and threatened to shoot me with the gun he claimed to have. I called his bluff. I told him that if he really was strapped, he'd use it by now. He walked away.

2. I've learned certain red flag situations in my time working the door. If there's a group of five or more girls and all but one volunteer their ID's without being asked, odds are the last one is underage. the guy that protests the THREE DOLLAR cover charge early in the evening is likely to not tip the bartenders and/or walk out on their tab. The old guy that comes in alone will get his drink and want to stand next to me and talk my ear off.

The latest thing I've realized is if a guy comes in on a Saturday night with a backpack or a duffle bag, he's either A) gonna steal shit, B) try to sell people shit, or C) wander around the bar bugging the living shit out of anyone who will show the slightest bit of interest. I should've known better than to let this one guy in. he looked harmless enough, but after a couple beers, he started talking to one of our regulars - a guy who's more of a pacifist than I am - and kept talking to that regular until veins were popping out of his neck. Backback guy was definitely starting to tweak on whatever he was high on, and it sure as hell wasn't life. He then sat down with a group of girls at one of the tables, and each one of them looked like they needed a chemical wash shower after talking to the guy.

The bartender cut him off, and he left...for about ten minutes. I stopped him at the door and told him he couldn't come back in. His classic response? "WHY?" I told him there were a lot of complaints about him from the customers. Classic response #2? "FROM WHO?" I told him to go away, and he shook my hand and left. I took a quick break to go scrub my hand like Silkwood and I got back to work.

3. A group of twelve guys came to the door while the band was on break. I told them I'd cut them a group rate of $2 a head, and the lead guy offered to go in, have a couple beers and if they liked the band, they'd pay the cover. I sarcastically replied, "Oooookkkaaaayyyy..." Then, the guys started walking in. I yell at them to come back and pay the cover.

"But, you said okay!"

I looked the guy in the eye and asked him, "What fucking economics class did you enroll in? If there is a band, you pay a cover price to get into the bar." All but three of the guys left, but the others had already ordered their beers. i told them to go ahead and quickly finish their beers, but if they want to stay one second after, then they owe me $3 cover. They finished and left.

After I got off, I walked over to McNellie's to catch the end of the Larkin gig and see my friends. Many of them were having an afterparty, and when I showed up, the leader of the group of twelve was there. Nobody knew him. He was crashing the party. And worse yet, he recognized me. Between that and all of the drunks at the party, my discomfort was palpable.

I got home around four and went straight to bed. I slept until one and now, I feel great. I'm gonna go enjoy the rest of my day.