I'm 34 years old and I got thrown out of a concert last night. I definitely feel stupid today, but not as bad as I thought I would when I went to sleep. Here's what happened...
Me and some friends were going to go see Marah. I was PSYCHED! Around 5:30, I went down to Dempseys for dinner and some beers. I had 3 beers in like, an hour and 45 minutes. And dinner. Yet still, I felt kind of loopy. Probably due to a screwy sleep schedule and general exhaustion. But rather than tone it down I, like always, decided to try and power through. I came home to wait for my ride and had 2 more beers over an hour. We drove down to the City (San Francisco) and went to the show. I drank a beer and a half on the walk up to the show. For those of you counting (and for my personal recollectioning) that's 6 beers with food over 3 hours. Still, I admit I was feeling weird and kind of wasted.
Before I left for the show I took out $100 for the show because we didn't have tickets. We got to the show and I bought 2 tickets ($24.00) and I bought everyone a round of drinks with the cash. 2 white russians, a red bull/vodka and a beer for me. I also got another beer or maybe 2 after that with the cash. I remember feeling goofy and like I was being annoying. I'm sure I was, I don't dispute that. However, I'm ALWAYS kind and considerate to bartenders. I don't want to be that annoying a-hole you remember that night when you go to sleep. I'm polite and I tip well. So after beer #2, I decided that I should get a red bull because I was feeling off. I've recently started a Diet Rockstar addiction and it usually sets me straight. So, I ordered a red bull and another vodka red bull for my friend. I then gave them a credit card and asked if they could run me a tab. Those 2 drinks went on that tab. What happenned next is fuzzy.
I was watching the show, but I was feeling weird. I also wasn't digging it all that much. I got another beer or maybe 2. I decided to close my tab and go outside to get some fresh air. I get my tab and it's $71.00! What the hell? I paid cash for the first half of the night and at BEST I had one mixed drink, 1 red bull and (for the sake of argument) 4 beers on the tab I was running. I tell the bartender I don't see how I could have put $71.00 on the tab and she gets all bitchy. I say, "calm down, I just want to see what I ordered" because the tab just said $71.00. No itemized list or anything. I understand she was super busy and didn't want to deal with a drunk "jerk," but c'mon. I wasn't asking for the world. Even if there were six drinks on there, it couldn't possibly be that expensive.
Before I know it, she signals some short hairy douche bag to "deal" with me. I hate guys like this guy. They keep them around because they love situations like this one. They simply cannot wait to make a scene. Yet, and I was admittedly drunk, I just wanted to see what I was charged for. Well this walking short guy complex gets all up in my face and starts saying stuff like "you gotta a problem? You talk to ME...I settle problems around here!" or "don't give my girls any shit, I give out the shit around here." It was like a bad movie. Those of you that know me know I can be obnoxious, but I'm rarely confrontational...anymore. So this guy is literally in my face and I'm being cool as a cucumber. I just keep explaining, "look, I started a tab a half hour ago and it's up to $70.00. It doesn't make sense and I just want to see what's on the tab." That's all I kept saying even as he kept trying to bait me into a fight. Finally he goes, "you cheap fuck, you need to leave...NOW" Fine, I say. But I'm not signing that tab. He grabs me by the arm and throws me out. I'm still not sure if I got charged or not and I have a big ole bruise on my arm today.
So out I go into the drizzly San Francisco night. My friends had missed this whole thing so I had to wait for them. The door guy made me wait down the block too....a-hole. I was so mad, I couldn't be embarrassed...and it was embarrassing. I still don't feel embarrassed today, just confused. So my friends finally came out and I told them what happened. Then, as we walked past the front of the club to the car, I knocked over the big podium that was out front. Veddy mature. But it felt good. The worst part is, I'm not going to be drinking at all until March....my gut, my pocketbook and my mental state need a break. Last night was my big hurrah, yet it was more like a big horrific.