Duck Farts and Cheesy Fries

Alcohol is a strange and wonderful thing isn’t it? It makes people do the craziest stuff and as a bartender, I have a front row seat to witness people affected by adult beverages. Here’s a little sample for your reading pleasure (or horror).

What ever happened to manners?

A simple “please” and “thank you” goes a long way when you’re trying to get the bartender's attention let me tell you. In fact, when I don’t get these common courtesies the perpetrator will find that the ordinarily exemplary service I provide will dwindle dramatically. So, if you whistle or knock on the bar or snap your fingers (yes, people still do this) or shout in an attempt to get my attention, I might pretend that you’re not even there. Shit, I might even have to explain the rules to you. Here they are:

• If you need me, be patient. I know that if you don’t get another rum-and-coke your head might explode but guess what, you’re not the only one here.
• If you don’t know my name, just ask! Or try one of the following like this, “Excuse me, when you get a minute, do you think I could get another one of these please?” Or, “Sir, my I please have another one?” It’s really not hard.
• Never, ever, ever, refer to me as “Tiger” or “Champ” or “Guy” or some other name you would use on a six year old. I know that my appearance belies my age but I’m forty for chrissake.

I can hear you!

You know the “private” conversation that you’re having with your best friend at the bar? Did you happen to notice that my head is about a foot and a half from your personal space and I’ve been reorganizing the same stack of cocktail napkins for the last fifteen minutes? Yup, I have heard EVERYTHING! Gee, it sure is interesting that you haven’t had an orgasm for two years or that the guy you met on the internet just wanted to have sex with you and he lied about wanting to “find someone” or that you think that the woman at the table behind you looks like a slut or that your last boyfriend had a big one but couldn’t last, or that your jeans cost only $250 but your coat was, like, $750. Or you can’t grow a proper “landing strip”. Yes, I eavesdrop but I can’t help myself. It’s like watching reality TV live and I just can’t resist. What it comes down to is that people are so wrapped up in themselves that they don’t even notice I’m there until they need a drink.

Know when to say when!

When you’re drunk you’re drunk and it’s almost never pretty whether you are male or female. I know it’s not fair, but women for the most part are particularly obnoxious when they are sauced. If you don’t believe me or even disagree, that’s fine, but once you have been a sober witness to literally thousands of drunk people like I have, you might change your mind. It gets particularly tough to watch with older women—it’s just embarrassing. Last summer we had an incident where it was last call on a weekend and my co-worker and I refused to serve a couple of ladies who probably had too much to drink before they even got to us. So we politely cut them off.

Can I just pause here and say how goddamn embarrassing it is to have to tell somebody that they've had enough. For some reason it's harder when they're women and older than me. “I’m sorry ma’am but I think we’ve done all we can do for you tonight” is the nicest way to put it. Sometimes they don’t understand and just stand there swaying back and forth and staring blankly which is always sad. And then, several awkward moments later, the inevitable question, “Why?” Why? Seriously? Well for starters, your fly is unzipped, and your breath smells like someone puked in a litter box and you can barely stand and I don’t think that you are normally cross-eyed…besides that I don’t have a single reason.

Anyway, these ladies decided to stumble outside and came back a few short minutes later thinking that they were in a different bar and attempted to order a drink. Again the answer was no and they left in a huff and tried to get served elsewhere. Well, despite their best efforts, they apparently couldn’t get served anywhere so they came back and parked themselves outside at our patio seating. Mind you, this all took place within twenty minutes while we where closing down and getting everyone out of the bar. I almost forgot about them honestly until I saw that they had a cab ready and waiting but the ringleader refused to get in explaining to her friend that she wasn’t done “partying”. I couldn’t believe it. Getting a cab at any hour in this town is a minor miracle let alone at last call. Finally, in a last ditch effort to redeem herself and keep “partying”, our hero gathered herself together, stood up, steadied herself for a second and headed back in to the bar. As soon as I saw her coming, I exited the bar and let the other bartender deal with her because I could almost not bear to watch. I kid you not this is was what she said: “Could I get a Duck Fart and some cheesy fries?” It was as if she was in a drunken time warp and got zipped back to a place where she was much younger and in a bar where this was a common order. She didn’t even say please…