I'm afraid that I'm falling into a rut.
The best thing that I have to share today is yet another "party monster on the loose".
But it's pretty sassy.
From time to time it falls on my shoulders to tell a person when they've partied enough. I hate doing it, because to tell someone at their best buddy's wedding that they've had enough is very much like telling children not to throw snowballs after the first snow. They've been waiting all this time for their buddy to get married for the express purpose of getting shitty at the open bar. What is it about the novelty of free booze that makes people think that they're younger/thirstier/sexier/smarter.
Enter Smarter Man #1.
At this point in the party, I've already personally carried a drunk, a grown man that cannot stand whom I peeled off the floor in the bathroom, to a taxi cab. That was 7:30pm.
Smarter Man #1 has been cut off, and he knows it, as it was the subject of a 5 minute, round-and-round discussion he and I had.
Man- Can I have a double scotch and water?
Me- I can get you a bottle of water, or a soda, but I won't be serving you any more alcohol, sir.
Man- (blink) Are you out? I'll have a beer then.
Me- No, we're not out. I just think that it's time for you to have a water, or a pop, sir.
Man- No, I want a scotch and water. Not just water.
Me- I'm sorry, sir. . .
Man- Okay, okay, okay, a beer.
When he finally got the point, it just didn't sink in. And soon he turned up before me with a bottle of wine (his wedding favour) and wanted it opened.
I told him that we weren't serving that wine, and that I couldn't open it. But I would love to open him a water or a pop.
This is where the cro-magnan are separated from the homo habilis. Lots of fellas would be beat, would see this as a checkmate, but not this fella. He assessed the situation for a couple of seconds (the silence always kills me--they're just working so hard in that time) and then he says:
"I don't need your fuckin' opener!"
Took one step back from the bar, brought the bottle up over his head, then like the fateful blade of the guillotine he brought the bottle down and smashed the neck off on the stainless steel countertop. To which I replied:
"Dude, that is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever seen done at this bar, and I've seen some pretty fucking stupid things. What are you going to do now? The wine is everywhere, and the top of the bottle is all jagged glass; how are you going to drink out of that?"
I kid you not, he had an answer, lickity-split.
"Can I have a cup?"
The tenacious spirit of man.