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"A guy falls asleep at the bar, so I tell his friends that he has to go. They say no problem, but they need help getting him into the car. So I pick him up and basically carry him to their car. While the friend goes to the driver's side, the guy sobers up enough to stand and looks me in the eye and asks, 'Is my junk hanging out?' I reluctantly look down and say, 'No' to which he says, 'Well it better be, cause I'm pissin'.'
His friends just put him in the car and come back inside and keep drinking. About two hours later, 'sleepy piss pants' comes back into the bar with asphalt burns all over his head, hands, arms. yelling about 'some black guys" that jumped him. We check the surveillance footage and the 'black guys' ended up being the parking lot. He stumbled his way out of the vehicle onto the pavement and proceeded to fight the parking lot. He lost but we all won. I wish I had saved that footage."
"I am a waitress at Hooters. One day a guys softball team came in who had already been drinking and they all decided to get even more plastered. One guy said he would give me a $100 tip if he could drink beer out of my sneaker. I asked the manager if it was okay and he said to go for it. So I took off my dainty sneaker and he chugs some bud light out of it with the whole restaurant cheering him on. He THEN proceeds to exclaim, 'I'll drink beer out of any shoe in this place!' My manager gets an evil glint in his eye and goes to the back where there's been this one loan size 13 sneaker that's been kicking around for months.
It's been caked in raw chicken, wing juices and flour and is totally crusty and disgusting. He presents it to the patron and says, 'Here ya go...' Again, the entire restaurant starts cheering him on. My manager fills up the shoe and waits as this guy stares down the shoe for a good 3 minutes (during this time the beer is hydrating and reconstituting all that caked on goodness, by the way) before finally pounding it down. Everyone cheers and claps, while they're around the table, right as this dude pukes all over the table! He was so embarrassed that he took off. Luckily, one of the other guys at the table was really cool about it and ended up giving me $40 extra on top of the 20% tip for the table."
"I've been a bartender at exotic dance clubs for most of the past nine years so I've collected a bunch of stories.
I saw a drunk guy come behind our bar and grab our knife that we use for cutting limes. He was holding it to his own head and his friend came over to try and talk him down. He then stabbed his friend in the eye.
We had this regular, a really nice guy, tipped well, super polite, but he used to get pretty drunk. One day, he was sitting at a high table and falling asleep in his chair. He would start sliding off the chair, then startle himself awake for a couple minutes. I told the bouncer to get him out but he ignored me. Two minutes later, the drunk regular slides all the way out of his seat. He tries to grab the table to keep from falling and ends up on the ground with this heavy table upside-down on top of him. I never saw him again.
But my favorite just happened this past Halloween. We had decorated the bar with fake cobwebs and other Halloween decorations. A very drunk, very young customer decided to get a lap dance from one of the girls. I don't know how it happened but by the end of the dance, he was entirely tangled in the cobwebs. Looking over all I could see was his hands flailing as he tried desperately to get out. I have never laughed so hard in my life. The bouncer finally had to cut him free with a knife. And it was just in time, as soon as he was freed the kid ran to the bathroom and puked."
"I was a bartender, but this wasn't when I was bartending. It was my wedding night.
My wife and I decided that we really wanted to have a huge party for our wedding and somehow we thought having a 7-hour open bar was a good idea. Here are just a handful of the results of such a bacchanal:
One guy passed out underneath the urinals. One lady passed out in a stall. One guy vomited on his pregnant wife's shoes in the reception hall. Another guy passed out at his table and vomited right in the middle of the reception hall.
It got so bad that my best man went on the DJ's mike and said, 'People, the bus to the hotel isn't coming back for another 3 hours. Take it easy.' An hour later, his pants were off and he was dancing with my mom in his underwear.
In the morning, I received a call from the front desk. The nice fellow asked if I was the groom and wished me many years of happy marriage. He then proceeds to say that the hotel understands that people drink and messes can be made, but one particular room was beyond the pale and asked if he could charge that room a special cleaning fee. I said, 'If it's that bad, you do whatever you need to do.'
My wife asks what the call was about and I tell her. Being of an inquisitive nature she asks, 'How bad can it be?' So, she decides to check it out. As soon as she gets off the elevator this odor smacks her in the face. She goes down this long hallway to my friend's room and she is horrified. There is poop (yes, human feces) everywhere. There was a sea of feces on the floor of the bathroom.
It looked like he had explosive diarrhea that had nearly covered the bathroom floor save where a circle around the toilet had been unsuccessfully wiped with the bathroom towels. There was a two-inch wave that had flowed over the room separator and covered a good portion of the carpeted area of the room. She also mentioned what looked like a hand smear of poop on the blanket on the bed like a murderer had been in there. It doesn't seem possible that someone could actually poop that much, but apparently, it is."
"I bartend in Chicago and this last summer, the block my bar is on was having a huge street fest - booze, booths, and corn on the cob everywhere. There were drunks all day.
Cut to late in the night, most of the drunkies have toddled off to fool around or barf or whatever most befits them. Our kitchen is closed, and most of the bar is emptying out. One of our cooks went downstairs to change and came back upstairs with his face completely white, and says, 'There's somebody passed out in the basement and there's blood and chocolate cake everywhere.'
I instantly tell everyone the bars closed and that everyone needs to go home. We call the cops and the ambulance arrives.
Turns out, some drunk goon somehow toddled into our employees only basement, got into one of the freezers and began to go beast mode on a mostly frozen chocolate cake, then bashed his head and bled everywhere, then fell asleep. The EMT's made sure he was alright, then wheeled him off in a hannibal lector style gurney to keep him upright as he puked all the way out of the restaurant. If the cook hadn't found him, I can guarantee you he'd be dead.
The follow up to the story? It's a big basement and one of our servers was storing his Vespa down there. When I helped him bring it upstairs, we found chocolate cake all over the handlebars. The drunk dude tried to RIDE A SCOOTER IN THE BASEMENT. Man, I'm glad it needs keys."
"I had two regulars that would come in for Bears games like clockwork. They never missed a game in the two years I worked there. They were nice guys, married with kids and working as house painters. One looked like Michael Chiklis and the other looked like Ned from Groundhog's day. One day, they get fall down sloppy and start causing a ruckus. I tell them that they have to clear out and they stumble to the sidewalk. Five minutes later, everyone in the bar is gathering around the front window. I look out and these two dudes are making out in the middle of Clark Street. I never saw them again."
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"I'm a server/bartender. It's a busy night and most of my bar is full. I see a group of dudes staggering in, clearly quite hammered. They're all wearing hockey jerseys so I assume victory drinks were being had or sorrows were being drowned. I refuse to serve them not because I'm a jerk, but because we could lose our license if one of these idiots takes a sip and then cracks his head on the bar, which doesn't go down so well.
After a few mandatory derogatory comments, the alpha tells me to kindly screw myself and proceeds to grab an almost full pint from the nearest customer. The customer is protesting, alpha's buddies are cheering. Unsurprisingly, alpha starts to chug. People are beginning to notice the commotion, throwing disdainful looks in every direction. I step out to try and grab the glass. Alpha's almost finished the entire drink as I'm reaching when suddenly his stomach decides to reject his offering.
This champ vomits most of the drink back up into the glass, attempts to place it on the bar and smashes it, sending shards of glass and second-hand alcohol in every direction (the owner of the drink was absolutely covered in vomit). This does nothing but delight the hockey fans and they grin and cheer, tell me how to avoid this situation in future and walk out, exchanging obligatory high fives. I close the bar and start driving home. On the way I see the Alpha handcuffed and bent over a cop car. Karma!"
"One time when I was bartending on a slow Monday night, a guy in his 40s told me I was like 'the ducks in Branson, Missouri.' Whatever the heck that means.
Then he complimented me on the size of my pinkie finger. After that, he proceeded to lean over the bar in attempt to smell my crotch. Quite possibly one of the strangest, grossest, and most unsuccessful pickup endeavors I've ever experienced. Ewww!"
"I'm a bartender at an Applebees. One night, this total redneck guy with a scruffy beard comes in, sits at the bar, and after I give him a few beers, I notice he's annihilated (must have been drinking before) so I cut him off. He's not happy with this but rules are rules so whatever. Anyway, I go to the bathroom and on the way back hear the barback, who was this tiny girl, yelling at him to stop. He has gone behind the bar and is trying to pry the cash register open with a spoon. I confront him and tell him to knock it off or I'm calling the cops and he says, 'GO AHEAD, CALL THE COPS... IT'S A FREE COUNTRY!' So I phone the police and they show up about 5 minutes later.
So the cops show up (at this point he was back on the other side of the bar) and ask him for his ID. 'ID, YOU WANT TO SEE MY ID?' he yells and takes off his wife beater. He's got an enormous tattoo of a bald eagle with the American flag behind it on his chest and he points to it and yells at the cops, 'THERE'S MY ID! THAT GOOD NUFF FOR YAH?' He then starts chanting, 'USA, USA!' So the cops promptly walk him out, in handcuffs."
"To start, I had one quiet guy at the end of the bar for most of the night. He was polite, quiet, and a good tipper. Let's call him Good Guy. I worked at a bar in Brooklyn, NY. It was probably around 1:30 on a Friday night, also known as amateur hour. Some crust punk and his haggy dread-haired slam piece walked in and ordered '7 beers and shots' Sid and Nancy style. I'd usually happily oblige and take their money, however, we had recently been wrist slapped for not carding, so I asked for IDs.
Sid immediately busts out a political 'screw the system' rant, while Nancy proceeds to try and knock all of the beer taps forward. At this point, I'm busy behind a 25-seat bar and all I can do is try to signal my bouncer to get these jerks out.
The girl climbs over the bar and starts trying to drink from said knocked over taps. I couldn't believe it. My bar-back wasn't there in the moment and I was basically about to cry. Then I see him. Good Guy comes behind Sid, grabs his hair along with Nancy's and knocks their skulls together. Nancy is knocked out cold, Sid starts mumbling nonsense, tries to stand up, pukes on Nancy, and passes out on top of her. What a day."
"Last New Years Eve, a guy trying to impress two chicks ordered three bottles of our most expensive champagne, which was $600 a bottle, and paid on card. He asked us to open all three, then changed his mind and asked us to keep two open bottles in the fridge for later and then took one over to the ladies who were all over him like a rash.
He was already so drunk that he forgot about the other two bottles. At the end of the night, he took one of the girls home and left without reminding us of the other bottles.
So, not wanting to waste any champagne, my two bar buddies and I proceeded to drink two magnums (seeing as they were already paid for) whilst cleaning up the bar and had a great night. We never saw the guy again, but THANKS, YOU MADE OUR NIGHT."
"I used to work at a bar that hosted poker tournaments at night, generally getting about 120 people through the door. The problem we had was that poker ran from 12 am-4 am. People would show up for poker and start drinking at 7. While generally everyone was pretty well behaved, we once had a huge roided-up guy come in to play. We were getting towards the middle of the tournament and there were only 40 or so players left.
Roidasaurus Rex comes to the bar and asks for a drink and I have to decline him service as he's already quite drunk. He walks back to his table and continues playing.
10 minutes later, he starts screaming at someone across the table, security shows up and he picks up the edge of the poker table and flips it into the air, then he charges at the nearest security guard. It was a pretty vicious fight but security eventually got him under control and into a cop car. Roids and booze don't mix."
"One night, my section was in my restaurant's private dining room which was used for private parties generally and overflow seating on busy nights. After a hectic three or so hours of dealing with a full room and needy tables, things finally looked like they were calming down.
Thinking I was about to get cut, the host comes in and tells me to quickly put together a big table for an eight top walk in. I sigh, a little upset that an eight top would walk in so close to our kitchen closing, but I live to serve. So I hastily set the table and wouldn't you know it, in walks 7 drunk ladies and their drunk bachelorette friend. So maybe this won't be so bad.
I immediately turn on the charm, offer champagne, cocktails, wine, you name it, we got it. And so did they. Also, they only ordered off of our small plate menu, so no angry kitchen. Yay!
So after several rounds of drinks and a giant chocolate cake in the shape of a man's ahem bits that they brought in for dessert, they were ready to pay. I cleared the table, dropped the check, then disappeared. I figured I would just be making the 18% gratuity off of them (we do it for parties of 6 or more) because their total bill was up to about $320.
Not five minutes later, they called me back in and they all had these goofy grins on their faces and a check presented full of cash. 'It's for you, but only if you dance for the bachelorette,' one of them says. Now I know I could've refused, maybe even should have refused and I'm pretty sure they expected me to. But being the ridiculous person that I am, I simply told them to cue the music.
And so I did a hilarious and very vanilla lap dance for a bachelorette that night. And made a LOT of cash since they doubled the gratuity. I sort of felt a little dirty after it, but was able to laugh it off after a post-work drink. Inappropriate? Maybe. Fun? Definitely."
"One of my first few nights working in a busy nightclub, a hockey game was let out. Everyone is already hammered coming in the door and we're getting run over.
I run downstairs to an employee-only area to get some back stock and I find this guy propped up against a wall, his junk out, peeing all over our paper supply shelf (napkins, silverware wraps, towels, etcetera). I yell, 'ARE YOU SERIOUS?' He looks up at me, junk in his hand and screams back, 'YEP.' He stuffs it in his pants and tries to bolt, but he's so drunk that he eats it down the stairs and knocks himself out. The paramedics had to take him out of there!"
"A big guy in a wheelchair comes in and wheels up to the bar with his caregiver. After about half a beer, he suddenly started getting really mean to the bartender, calling her fat, stupid, etc. She runs in the back crying. Eventually, he rolls up to the host podium and blurts out, 'You think you're better than everyone, don't you?!' and begins to go off on how he's an attractive man and the host is easy, conceited, and all sorts of other awesomeness.
The host went to grab a manager. By the time she comes out, he is back at the bar. Here, he starts very loudly screaming at her as well. She tells him he needs to leave and he starts getting even more belligerent, so I call the police. The police arrived within minutes, which only pissed him off even more. He's refusing to leave the building, calling the cops horrible names, trying to run everyone in the general vicinity over with his wheelchair and even attempting to throw his colostomy bag at an officer. Eventually, once a van shows up to take him into custody, he agrees to leave after being cited for disorderly conduct and larceny."
"I work at a fairly high-end restaurant/bar somewhere in the 'bible belt.' We close at midnight Monday-Friday and 1 AM on Saturday. Everyone has fifteen minutes after we close to finish their last call drink before going home. I was walking along the patio one night and came upon a group of 4 young men left over from a fairly large party.
One had a large bottle of champagne in his hand. I told him that I was sorry, but that it was twenty minutes past close and I was going to have to take his drink. The young man -- disheveled with tie unclipped and lose, with shirt half untucked -- precedes to jump up and take off running, bottle in hand, chugging it as he runs. He makes a full lap around the patio before returning to me the empty bottle. Taking drinks is hard enough, please don't make me chase you down."
"This dude comes into my bar, acting pretty normal. Two beers in, out of nowhere, he decides someone is going to shoot him and that someone is hiding in the bar. I'm assuming some illegal substances he took hit him or something. This guy backs up to the wall and starts screaming for everyone to back off. When the bouncer approaches, he starts screaming 'YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME AREN'T YOU?!' on and on until finally, he just bolts out the front door at full speed. Assuming that was it, normal bar business resumes.
Then cops show up looking for the bouncer who 'threatened to kill this man while brandishing a weapon.' Apparently, this idiot ran down the road until he saw a cop car which he then jumped in front of while screaming 'THEY'RE TRYING TO KILL ME!' So everyone explains to the cops that this guy has lost it and no one here has a weapon, let alone is trying to kill him. The cops look at the bouncer and say, 'Are you on anything?' 'Umm no.' 'Was that guy on something? 'Probably,' the bouncer said. 'Okay. Have a good one.' And that guy promptly went to jail."