Friday, August 9, 2013

10 Ways to Not Get Your Ass Kicked by a Bouncer

By Frank Andrews
             During the time I was a professional mixed martial arts fighter and before I started writing I was a a slew of  drinking establishments in Charleston, South, Carolina. I worked a wide range of watering holes including pubs, dives, coyote ugly style bars, college bars, Red Sox Bars (I’m amazed I didn’t place a prank call to the suicide hotline that ended with the sound of a .22 going off sometimes), sushi restaurants that turned into night clubs with more seedy acts behind the scenes than a Guy Ritchie flick, and everything in between (not exactly sure how slew means a bunch but it just rolls off your tongue like sweat off a whore’s forehead in church doesn’t it?). In that time I’ve dealt with, pissed off, knocked out, choked out, and killed the self esteem of plenty of frat boys, guidos, law school students, the lead singer of a famous band (two bands actually, let’s just say he was from England and Michael Bisping uses one of his tracks as his walkout song), up tight socialites, white trash honkies, hood-ass g’s, hood ass honkies/white trash G’s, ex-convicts (including one that judging from his diminutive size I’m pretty sure was the receiver in the Leed’s Hotel showers), lawyers, a former state treasurer, a two-time Super Bowl winning quarterback, and most any other walk of life you can think off (except for Eskimos, those blubber eating fuckers think they are better’n me, fuck them and the igloo they fuck their fat wives in).
The thing about bouncing is that you often catch people at their worst moments and I’m certainly not an exception to that fact. There have been plenty of time when I had one too many tequila and cranberries which are awesome because they are crazy and red like just like me and have done something I have regretted the next day (like driving drunk in a tropical storm). Most guys know when they have had enough to drink and the best course of action, especially when I severely inebriated hammered, is to spit game at the first chick that is hopefully disease free and down to fuck (or in beer goggle terms is “fucking hot”) where as most women know is the best time to lob a "grenade" (one of her ugly friends that I wouldn't fuck with David Hasselhof's dick with the car from Knight Rider pushing while encouraging me in it’s British accent) in your general direction to initiate Operation: Cock Block before grabbing you by the hand to take you to the bathroom and come up with an “emergency” as to why you have to go (to the bar where your boyfriend is spitting game at that bitch you can’t stand from that sorority you couldn’t get into). However you also get other people that act about as logical as a New Jersey Housewife during that time of the month when the tide is coming in. This behavior can permeate in different ways based on gender.
Unlike in your exclusive private school that your parent’s sent you to with the money that has been passed down to them through multiple generations by former slave owners, you aren’t going to just get a slap on the wrist if you decide to be a douche bag to a bouncer. For guys this can result in getting  F.U.B.A.R. (Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition), having to pay for a hospital visit/post bond from your nearest correctional facility, and having to explain to everyone why that red-headed bouncer kicked your ass the other night (not that I would know anybody like that). For girls it’s getting put in your place and realizing that you aren’t the princess that your over-privileged parents have told led you to believe over the years which has been exacerbated by watching shitty shows on MTV (except for Jackass when it was on and Bully Beatdown, "Mayhem" Miller cracks my ass up).
Bouncers (for the most part, Farva doesn’t count because he royally sucked at life if you can’t tell from my stories) are pretty down to Earth people who in all actuality are there for YOUR protection and for pretty lousy pay I might add (seriously I was making only $30 a night at IrishFratBar on some nights which I actually had to chase down my boss for). Legally speaking, establishments that serve alcohol are on privately owned property whose proprietor and/or leaser have purchased a license to sell the all too fun drug that has led me to sleeping with many a fat chick. Peace officers don’t have jurisdiction over their grounds unless either a crime is in progress (for bars these are commonly underage drinking, drug distribution, use of false identification, as well as assault and battery) or they have probable cause, i.e. suspicion of either a crime in progress or having recently been committed. So in order to keep their liability insurance premiums down without having 5-0 all up in their bizz, bar owners hire guys to check I.D.’s, break up fights, escort unruly clients off of the premises (sometimes by force if they really can’t take hint) that are commonly referred to as bouncers. There aren’t any criteria to qualify for bouncing (that I know of) well as there being degrees or certifications for this line of work (yes, I have been asked by drunken douche bags on the regular). Basically the only requirements are a willingness to give up your social life and  weekends. Of course being well versed in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Muay Thai, and being a retired MMA fighter doesn’t hurt either, nor does being a big guy in order to appear intimidating as well as having a shitload of tattoos, and a long beard. Seriously, just look like you jerk off to episodes of Sons of Anarchy and the job is pretty easy except you might want to stick to working dive and biker bars if you want a lucky lady to wax your carrot with their labia.

Anyways my brothas and sistas from anotha motha Frankie Ginger here has compiled a list to keep your face/self-esteem from being fuck-started beyond all recognition. If you follow these simple rules then you can have a good time getting shit-housed and hopefully hooking up with that hot blonde from lab after all the guys from the basketball team try seducing her with shots of Padron without fear of some roided up Rick Ross looking motherfucker going all Patrick Swayze on your ass or, for the ladies have a fun ladies night out while not having to deal that bitch from Kappa Wappa Whogivesafuck throwing salt in you G.A.M.E. I might be a soulless ginger that has killed more brain cells over the years, through drinking and fighting, than Charlie Sheen in his prime (right now) but I Know a thing or two about baby sitting drunken assholes. Anyways like Bruce Buffer says before Anderson gets another flawless victory, “Here we go!”.

1.     Don’t get pissed off when asked for your ID

Ok I get it. Your mommy and daddy bought you a nice wardrobe and an expensive car that makes that hot girlfriend’s meat curtains flap like they are in Category 5  Hurricane. You think your shit doesn’t stink and you can talk shit to whom ever you want, because your mommy and daddy’s money can buy that expensive lawyer who can take anyone that would lay a hand on you to court and subsequently to the cleaners. Well guess what dip shit? Some bouncers know the law just as well as that fancy lawyer and all they did was watch a few episodes of Law and Order: SVU. DAAA!!!! DAAA!!! (I hope that got the SVU sound effect through). Guess what else? This means they also know how self defense works? Confused? Why does this matter in your world of going out on the boat, debutant parties, and Guy Harvey shirts. Keep reading.

 Say for instance you have been a dick to that red-headed bouncer for a few months and are now drinking your Jack and cokes while desperately trying to grab all the self respecting girls’ asses that aren’t in your exclusive uptight socialite circle of friends and they kindly inform you to leave them alone which your punk ass decides to ignore. The red-headed bouncer picks up on this and kindly informs you that you need to stop creeping out all the hot girls WITH self esteem before you fuck up the guy-to-girl ratio and turn the fucking joint into a sausage fest. You’re fucking up everyone’s G.A.ME. and it’s NOT COOL. You try to inform this kind ginger with no soul that you will stop while rolling your eyes. The bouncer gets the “hint” and walks about 10 feet away and starts watching you like a hawk that’s flying around Paris Hilton’s backyard waiting for that fucking Chihuahua to come outside for lunchtime (the hawk’s lunch, not Paris’s furry accessory and by accessory I mean her Chihuahua, not her worn n’ torn Valtrex perscribed muff)
A few minutes later you are back to your ass grabbing ways. This kind (enough) ginger has had enough and informs you that you have to leave which brings me to rule number 2.

2.     When the bouncer says it’s time to go, then it’s TIME TO GO…
Most people when told that it’s time to go realize the error in their ways, asks why and upon learning the reason leave without much resistance. Some may feel that the bouncer is mad at them, but this is usually not the case. Bouncers realize that every body is human and an establishment with a plentiful supply of alcohol is the perfect breeding ground for bring out people’s imperfections which I am no exception to, just read my stories. The bouncer has a good reason to ask you to leave and that reason is safety of the other customers, it’s nothing personal. However going back to the HYPOTHETICAL situation with said trust fund baby; he decides he wants to channel his inner Billy Bad Ass because he thinks he is hot shit which might work on all his other trust fund buddies, but to a bouncer he looks like nothing more than cold diarrhea.

The bouncer still keeps his cool as this douche bag FINALLY picks up on the hint that he is not just going to go away. You try to show your ass more by saying you’ll leave when you finish you beer. This is a very bad idea especially when that ginger is trying very hard to be nice your ass. The red-headed bouncer decides you need a stronger hint to leave and snatches the bottle from your girly hands since you have never had to work a day of hard labor in your life which precipitates you balls to shrinking, but unlike Bullet Tooth Tony’s rant about his Desert Eagle .50 your presence doesn’t. Instead you try to grow your balls back by bowing up to the bouncer. This is a REALLY bad idea as this can be construed as a threat by the bouncer, but giving you the benefit of the doubt (plus not wanting to get fired because the coke-head bar owner is watching) he just merely grabs you by the arm giving you an even stronger hint that it’s time to go and you finally starts walking you outside. It’s almost all good now; you’re about to head home, sleep Mr. Daniels, off and wake up to go watch college football with your buddies as you beat back your hang over with a six pack.
Instead right before you are on your merry way you start  realizing that you are supposed to be better’n him which brings up rule number 3.

3.     Don’t try to swing on the bouncer (dumbass)
Remember that self defense law I was talking about? Here is how Wikipedia puts it:
The right of self-defense (according to U.S. law) (also called, when it applies to the defense of another, alter ego defense, defense of others, defense of a third person) is the right for civilians acting on their own behalf to engage in violence for the sake of defending one's own life or the lives of others, including the use of deadly force
Did you read that? USE OF DEADLY FORCE, DEADLY FUCKING FORCE. Now keep in mind that last part would only hold water in the most extreme of cases, but bottom line is if you swing on a bouncer he is perfectly within his legal right to go Tony Jaa on your face and fuck you up worse than if you tried to steal his elephant. I’ve definitely had to knock out/choke out my fair share of drunken douche bags for this reason, and SOLELY for this reason alone just like the red-headed bouncer we have been talking about (whom is not based on anybody I know of). Said trust fund douche bag decides he is going to sacrifice what functioning brain cells he has left and throws a hilly-billy-haymaker at said red-headed bouncer not realizing that he is a former pro MMA fighter well versed in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and Muay Thai (fine, fuck you, it’s based on me) and lays him out like D-Bo in Friday minus Smokey hopping on top yelling in yo face, “YOU JUST GOT KNOCKED THEFUCKOUT MAN!!!” After waking up you get hauled off to Leeds Hotel where some 6’10” 300lb hood ass G makes sweet love to you trust funded corn hole in the showers. All because you had to be a douche and not take no for an answer.
4.     Don’t talk the bouncer’s ear off
Look, I know that episode of Modern Family was fucking amazing the other night, and the hot Latin chick that nearly had her nipple slip got you hard enough to skull fuck a rhino. I understand but I'm working so unless you are coming over to inform me of a guido fight, an ACTUAL fight in progress, or are atleast a solid 8 that is down to fuck then I'm not going to be in an attentive mood. Don't take it personal. I know it looks I'm standing there doing nothing and since your G.A.M.E. isn't exactly at Derrick Rose levels you need someone to talk to. I understand the concept of male bonding believe it or not. However when a bar is packed like a slave ship at 1:00am and that group of jarheads has been talking shit to the dudes who are wearing the baseball caps with the stickers still on them (which makes the baby Malcolm X cry) I might not exactly be able to multitask in synch with your need to brain storm pick up lines ("Nice shoes, wanna fuck?" is as good as any).
5. Don't be an instigator
      There are those rare assholes with actual brain cells that know how to manipulate people to levels that would make Professor Xavier from the X-Men blush. Instead of using this uncanny ability to their benefit in a good way you decide to use it to have fun at others' expense like some narcissistic ginger that writes stories about his cage fights, drunken booty calls, bar fights, and throwing up on said booty call's dog. Ok fine I can appreciate a good narcissist at work and when I say good I mean funny. What I mean by funny is not getting anyone seriously hurt, unless it's in self defense of course. A good narcissist can bring enjoyment to others and support the greater good at the expense of other douche bags. If you do not fill those criteria with your antics which bring harm and misery to others that don't deserve it then you ARE one of those douche bags. Just at the higher end of the douche-archy. You still suck at life. I can go on and on about examples of dealing with douche bags starting shit and having to clean up their mess but one example stands out like a syphilis canker that occurred in July 2011.
I was working in IrishFratBar on a Saturday night and it was still early in my shift. This bar was (and still is as of this writing) infamous for being a hangout for underage kids. When I say underage I don't mean like 19 or 20 tears old with a fake ID (even though there were plenty of those too). I mean like junior year of high school (17 for those who can't do the math which probably means you were held back, i.e.18 years old, and yes I am speaking from experience due to being held back in the first grade. Fuck you, you're not better'n me ). With all that said there was this one bitch in their that was REALLY young. Her braces made her look like she had just recently gotten out of a Justin Bieber concert. She was too young for sexual innuendo. She had braces for fuck sake.
For as young as she was she had learned pretty quickly that men are desperate and would do anything for pussy. Even if that pussy looks like it was two years removed from her first menstrual cycle. She would start flirting with one group of guys and then start flirting with a completely different group of guys. One of the guys from the group that had a color scheme consistent with those that you'd expect voted for Obama, had a guy dancing with her in a similar fashion to that psycho narcoleptic dancer from Chapelle's show that always looked up like a crack head glancing up for Jesus. Seriously, this fucking guy started dancing with a bitch that looked like she could still be on Nickelodeon and the weirdest part is that I think he actually preferred the cock based on his Steven Seagal-like mannerisms as well as acting like a complete diva after TeenyBraces smacked him for being more woman on the dance floor than she was. His boys were definitely still pro taco though and shit nearly hit the fan after this as the other group of dumbasses that TeenyBraces had wrapped around her finger got involved. They started jawing at each other and I saw what the inevitable result was going to be. TeenyBraces figured I hadn’t been watching her the whole time and why not. She looked so fucking innocent. It was doubtful that she was of legal age to consent to sexual intercourse even in the State of South Carolina (which is 16 for all you pedophiles out there), yet she was starting to realize that her recently post pubescent tuna box held a lot of power over the opposite sex especially ones that were lousy at spotting jail bait.

Bottom lines is this girl was going to cause a full on brawl in IrishFratBar and telling the guys to leave wouldn’t have been the smartest move. I went to both sides and explained to them that they were about to fight over a girl that would only be legal to have sex with in Mexico (thank you Daniel Tosh for informing me that the age of consent is 12 so I don’t have to Google it even that is I kind of weird that one of your writers did, just saying). I kind of had a hard time keeping a straight face when one of the guys that looked like he was skirt chasing for one of the Desperate Housewives of Atlanta asked me how a girl THAT young could get in there. Obviously this was his first time in IrishFratBar. After that I kindly informed TeenyBraces that she had to go. It was at this point that her older brother who looked like he had just recently started law school (judging by his carrot top-esque hair and Dilbert-like looks, seriously he was an evil ginger in a BAD way) had already thought he was better’n me and started giving me shit. Apparently he thought that I didn’t know the law.
DoucheGinger: “If you throw her out then we will sue.”
Under normal circumstances I would have just busted out laughing until his self esteem diminished to the point that he would hopefully slit his wrists in the correct perpendicular to the vein fashion. However, TeenyBraces proceeding to slap a guy without provocation made this situation anything but normal as I had to quickly and very carefully (in order to avoid a lawsuit) grab her by the waist to escort her to the door. After I got her Mickey Mouse loving ass out of the door

DoucheGinger came back up to me.

DoucheGinger: “This isn’t over.”

I about had it with this fucking waste of a fertilized egg and let my feelings be known.

Frank (i.e AwesomeGinger): “Get the fuck out of my bar and come talk to me when you get out of law school.”

I should have let it go right there, but when I open a wound in someone’s self-esteem  that sucks this much at life I have to throw some more salt in it.

Frank: (poking my head out with Quiche and HeadBouncer looking back) “CALL ME WHEN YOU GET OUT OF LAW SCHOOL BITCH!!”
 The moral here is that TeenyBraces and DoucheGinger were both instigators in their own way. TeenyBraces was using her feminine charms on a bunch of dumbasses that couldn’t pick up on a potential case of statutory rape when they saw it. DoucheGinger knew that most bouncers don’t know the law and tried to take advantage of it in order to reinforce TennyBraces’s hubris. The ending result could have been a major brawl with someone getting seriously hurt for the sake of these two low life’s entertainment. However the ending result was an angry ginger bouncer that went Dirty Harry on their self esteem. Bottom line don’t manipulate people unless it’s in the name of harmless fun.
6.     Be discreet about the narcotics
After watching re-runs of Two and a Half Men you decide you want to get your Charlie Sheen on, so you whip out your ya-yo stash and blast threw a few lines to get your game on. You decide you might want some later so you bring a few (or 20) bumps worth with you just in case that hot blonde from bio finally figures out that the reason why those Padron shots from the varsity basketball team have been making her black out so quickly is due the GHB they were throwing in it (which would also explain why she has been waking up on some fraternity house floor with a swollen uterus). Seriously pissed off by this fact (if she figured it out), coupled with her calling that lawyer on television that will do it pro bono for the same reason why said athletes were slipping her the “just let it happen” drug, she probably won’t be on speaking terms with them anymore. You think you might have an opportunity here so you get your “skiing” equipment ready in hopes of her wanting to have some variety on the trip to rock bottom, not mention to see if she can gyrate her hips like Gianna Michaels does in that one scene on which you have been chafing your dick to all day which now has you paranoid about herpes.

You head to the bar with your bag of candy in your pocket and hope in your balls. You walk into the bar, order your Bud light or whatever frat beer you drink, and start sipping on it like the pussy that you are. While sipping on your kiddie beer you see her, that hot blonde who has had more black dick in her than Mariah Carey heading, into the bar. You decide liquid courage just isn't enough so your need it in powder form as well, but instead of going to the bathroom stall like any dumbass that would bring coke to a bar would do you decide to take your stupidy to another level by doing bumps in the booth by the dance floor with the sorostitutes that want to get shots of Padron from the basketball team, because they aren't onto THEIR G.A.M.E. yet. I'm not even going to begin to tell you how stupid you are, but if I believed in voodoo I would be smacking a doll of your likeness upside the head repeatedly. I can't technically lay a hand on you, but boy do I really want to.
I have mixed feelings about drugs, especially coke and weed. Before I say anything else I have to admit I have gone through spurts in my life where I was a pothead. I wasn't quite up to "wake and bake" levels but let's just say I tried to overdose on THC one time by smoking on an 1/8 in the span of 10 minutes and it failed miserably and a Homewrecker from Moe's was devoured as a result. I later found out that in order to have a fatal response to THC you would have to smoke the equivalent of 15,000 joints in the span of 10 seconds (Anybody want to set a world record?). I have also done cocaine once. However, I didn't snort it but instead smoked it was while mixed with weed in what is commonly referred to by hood ass G's as a "chronic". I have no excuse, curiosity got the better of me. I didn't even get high. I'm thoroughly convinced the coke actually kept me sober due to my acute ADD which resulted in the coke counteracting the THC.

 That's the difference between people that TRULY have ADD and those that get misdiagnosed with it by a doctor so that he can get additional kickbacks from pharmaceutical companies that beg him to prescribe their products. For those that don't have ADD, cocaine can keep you wide awake for hours on end so that they can continue their debauchery into the wee hours of the morning. For people that do have it however, it has the reverse effect of making us pass out faster than a bullet through Bin Laden's head. That's why Adderall, Ritalin, and amphetamine derivatives are prescribed to those with ADD and ADHD, because it actually calms our minds down where as weed makes us more paranoid than a convicted pedophile in a federal pound me in the ass prison.

Now I know what you are saying. How do I know I haven't been misdiagnosed with ADD and all this talk is bullshit?  Well for one thing when I was in pre-school I would have temper tantrums when I couldn't get what I wanted in the form of banging MY head on the floor like I was trying to head butt my way to China. Obviously frightened by this my pre-school teachers tried diagnosing me with autism and it took a child psychologist in New York City to figure out that it was a REALLY severe case of ADD and not a result of yours truly being a  real life Rainman. If I had been living in Charleston I probably would have been kidnapped by some diehard Southern Baptist group and crucified to the sound of laughter while I rotated my head 360 degrees Exorcist-style. Funny thing is it now it looks I have Ausberger's Syndrome which means that I am SLIGHTLY autistic or slightly Rainman if you like.

Oh shit where was I? Oh yeah bottom line is keep the narcotics at home or ATLEAST out of view. Most bouncers aren't going to give two flying fucks whether you are getting candy up your nose as long as the douche bag that signs our paychecks (or pays us under the table) doesn't come bitching at us about it. We are more pissed about your stupidity than you harming yourself.

7. Don't act like you are a fucking expert
I know a lot of bar owners are douche bags. Trust me there have been plenty of times that I have considered skull fucking some of them with no lube  (especially JacobyClone who owns GlaucomaTiger, and IFBowner who owns IrishFratBar). Most of them are uptight shitheads that like to get coked out of their minds and start micro-managing like Tony Montana after he made his fortune and became a victim of his own success. If these shit heels were just customers in a bar I'd viciously attack their self-esteem until they threw the first punch just so that I could lay them out Frank Lucas-style minus the 9mm. Except they aren't customers, they own the fucking bar which means they pay me to deal with other assholes and their shit which they exacerbate by coming up with stupid fucking rules. For GlaucomaTiger it was to not allow anyone in the bar after 1:15am in a town where the bars closed at 2am. You know how pissed off people get when they are coming to meet their buddies at 1:20am only to be told by some ginger asshole working the door that they can't come in and when inquiring as to why, the only explanation they get is that the owner told them to? As you can imagine they get more pissed off than a youth pastor hearing the punch line of a dead baby joke.

I don't agree with stupid rules anymore than you do. However, the guy that makes those stupid rules signs my fucking paycheck so I have to put up with his shit and I DON'T have to put up with yours. If you are cool I might even be willing to look the other way and bend the rules for you to get you in to see your buddies so that y'all can spit game at that group of debutants with the hopes of impregnating one of them and living off their trust funds. However if you are a douche and try to tell my why I HAVE TO let you in then most bouncers are going to be about as cool as the other side of Stuart Scott's shitty one-liners on. This one time I was working at GlaucomaTiger and this one old guy tried to come in with his equally old looking wife. When I told them why they couldn't come in he tried to play the condescending role:

OldGuy: "I'm a lawyer so you have to let me in."

Frank: "Really? You are lawyer?"

OldGuy: (obviously picking up on my sarcasm) "Yea, so you HAVE to let me in."

Frank: (amazingly keeping a straight face) "Ok, go get a judge."

The sight of him giving me dirty looks as he walked off made me about as giddy as a school girl sucking in nitrous. If he had been nice he could have been in GlaucomaTiger having a drink with his wife and popping a cialis to counteract any whiskey dick he might have had while trying to shag his old lady (Imagine old wrinkly balls old pounding grey roast beef doggy-style. Yea, I told you I was an asshole and your welcome).

8. Don't bring and/or use pre-made or make shift weapons in the bar (It may be the last thing you ever do. Seriously.)
Want to know the quickest way to get that red-headed bouncer to deliver you a size 11 Reebok enema? Bring that pocket knife of yours in the bar and start flashing it around as an intimidation tactic. You'll be lucky if that hairy ginger fucker JUST wrestles you to the ground and goes Jon Jones on your face with some elbows. That's if you just flash that knife in his general direction. God forbid you try making an act of aggression towards him with that thing. He will probably use that knife against you resulting in giving you a brand new Sicilian neck tie, claim self defense, and get off Scott free. Same goes for the ghetto knives, i.e. broken beer bottles (just read my story "That was Totally Ninja"). I can't stress this rule enough. Bars aren’t the right place to mix alcohol and/or narcotics with melee or projectile weapons. Tennessee, Texas, and Kentucky are.

9. Handle your liquor
 We have all had our nights where we had one too many. One second you are just chilling and next thing you know you are waking up next to some other female daywalker (ginger) with the "freshman 15" explaining to you how you pinned down her beloved dog to use it as a bucket for your vomit. This is after she tricked you into drinking this date rape drug called "Jack Daniels" and then used you to play whack-a-mole with her G-Spot which you had to follow up with another fuck session in the morning just so that you can remember actually fucking her. Nobody is perfect, ESPECIALLY that guy.

Sometimes it means you cuss out some dude in SushiBar for wearing a cowboy hat and not being from Texas. You follow this up by throwing up in a trash can by the front door where everybody is walking in and missing the trash can with most of it, but get plenty of it on your person. You should never act like this guy either unless you are well versed in the stand up and ground aspects of fighting, especially when shit housed. If not then you might want to take it easy on those red headed sluts before you do something that makes the red headed bouncer throw you out the door like a rag doll where some other red head can laugh at your misery. Trust me; you don't want to feel the wrath of the ginger nation.

10. Don't be a douche at closing time
I know that legally speaking we don't have to have all the customers out of the door till 2AM, in South Carolina at least. Your state might be different (if they close before mine then it means your state sucks, yea I'm talking about you Ohio with your pussy ass 1am closing time). Keep in mind I said that WE don't have to have you lout by then. We CAN make you leave whenever the Hell we want. Most bars will usually do last call 30 minutes prior to the State mandated closing time and begin kicking people out 15 minutes after. The reason for this is that anybody caught drinking inside the bar after 2am can result in a $1,000 fine per person for the owner of the business.
Most people understand this and act accordingly, but you get a lot of douche bags, especially law school students and frat boys, who think they are smarter and better'n everybody that think the rules don't apply to them. This is one of the worst types of douche bag, at least guidos can be leveled with by calling them "Bro", doing a few fist pumps, and matching notes on spots that the both of you have visited in that shithole birth state of mine that is commonly referred to as New Jersey, atleast it has a soul unlike Ohio. Unlike guidos, convincing frat boys and law school students the meaning of no means no is about as easy nailing Jell-O to a tree and they always say the same thing, "I DON'T HAVE TO LEAVE TILL 2.”  WRONG douche bag, you have to leave when I say you have to because I you are on private property, which I don't need a reason for. IT'S PRIVATE PROPERTY JERKOFF!!! They havewn’t gotten to that section in law school yet? You have no legal right to be in there unless you are an employee, or allowed to be in there by an employee.
I can't begin to explain how many fights I have been in as a result of douche bags not following this rule and it has never ended well for them.

If you follow these rules then it makes the bouncer's job of protecting the customers of the bar much easier which results in everybody being able to have a good time, hook up, spread herpes (especially in Charleston where the infection rate is about 50%), and go eat a shit load of fatty, greasy food at Waffle House. Follow them and enjoy.

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