Monday, March 13


A funny thing happened on Friday night. We were downtown, at a certain martini serving establishment, and in the perfect rowdy drinking mood. The bar was fairly crowded and I had a particularily heavy desire to cruise on guys. This was probably caused in part by our location: by standing near the door, I had a prime view of every patron and felt it was my goal to be the first to notice all eligible men.

At some point I decided to set my sights on a boy standing across the bar. He was talking to a girl, but I, in true intoxicated manner, decided to overlook this fact and proceeded to check him out. However, my staring must have been much too blatent, because after about ten minutes of casual turning-around-and-looking-hoping-to-catch-his-eye a huge woman approached me.

"You better stop what you are doing," she demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"You keep checking that guy out and it needs to stop. He has a girlfriend and they are happy together and don't need you messing up their shit. So you better stop what you are doing."

By this point the woman was totally in my face, not to mention that she had a glimmer of rage in her eyes. I felt completly caught off guard and wasn't sure how to reply.

"I.... am not doing anything? I am just looking at him," I finally pointed out.

"WELL. She sees what you are doing. I can see what you're doing. You better fucking stop. You're making her nervous and it's pissing me off."

"Whatever," I said. "If the girl has a problem she can tell me."

However, it is suddenly at this moment that I realize the woman is not some random friend, but a bouncer at the bar. A bouncer with nothing better to do than harass a girl who hasn't even actually flirted with the guy standing a full fifteen feet away from her.

She repeats her cease-and-desist message and walks away. I balk at the incredulousness of the whole situation and start to feel a rage of my own. What right does a bouncer have in saying who I can and cannot LOOK at?

A short while later, I have to go to the bathroom. And of course, who else is inside standing by the sink than the bouncer. I go into a stall and can hear her chatting with a friend, waiting for me. When I come out she approaches me again.

"I hear you talking shit about me, you think I can't hear you? Don't you know who I am? I will get you kicked out of this place so fast, girlie."

Again, all I could say was: "Excuse me?"

"You don't think I can see you talking to your friends about me, calling me a slut and a ho and a bitch? How dare you call me a slut. You better clean your act up or I will kick you out of here."

At this point, I was so drunk and so frustrated that rationality exceeded me. I had no recollection of calling the bouncer anything and so I made up some lame "I don't use the word slut" arguments. Then I escaped from the bathroom.

I used to wonder how stupid random fights got started, and now I know. All it takes is one part hoity-toity bitch on a power trip, and one part over-sexed, innocent drunk girl. And as much as I don't want to admit it, the bouncer won, because I will not be going back to that bar ever again.