Whuf. Interesting, interesting night. Yes.
Sang 3 songs - "Jack and Diane", "These Boots Were Made For Walking" (request), and "I Want Your Sex". I was iffy on singing the last one, because there were conventioneers.
Ah, conventioneers. The bar is very close to the convention center, so conventioneers will occasionally stumble our way. I'm normally grateful for the business, but... Well, it's much like when a small town is adacent to a military base (like Fairbanks). The GI's are miles and miles away from home, having to at least fake like they are enjoying themselves, and, as a rule, are on the make. Conventioneers, not being 18 nor having a freshly-shaved head, are not quite as bad, but I think you get my point. When they walk in, they get watched. Especially when the group is entirely male. Most of the time, it's not an issue. Tonight, it wasn't really an issue. Some were pigs, but most respected the space.
However, there was still that heightened watchfulness, which, in some of my friends, translates into a readiness to fight. Why? Because they're idiots. Anyway. This time, it was my friend DP. DP is a bartender-cum-actor/tech director, and he has had to 86 many a person from his bar, sometimes needing to do so multiple times for one person. The brother of one such person walked in with 15 minutes to go, and plopped his ass down at our table. He holds a grudge against DP. Fair enough. However, it's our table and has been for over 4 years. We don't know him, we didn't invite him. DP was making noises about fighting, and Idiot Dude (ID) was baiting him. Finally, since DP, Z and I were sharing a cab home, I plopped down next to ID and asked him why he was at our table and why he was bothering my friend.
Now, you have to understand. I don't do that. I am non-confrontational in the extreme. But I've been working on standing up for myself and my friends, so I decided to try to avert the mayhem. DP, not helping, told ID that he was in real trouble now that I was in the mix. ID asked why he should be scared now that a woman was talking to him. This was followed by a leaning back by everyone who was watching, waiting for the explosion. I told ID that he needed to go, that this was our table, that he was bothering us. He replied that he was going to sue me, that this was America and he knew his rights (oy. theferret
has something to say about that attitude, but I can't find the post), that he couldn't be removed from the table. I told him that it was a privately-owned establishment, and they reserve the right to kick out or move whomever they wish. He demanded to see the papers declaring that it was a private establishement. After a few rounds like this, and after our friend M got into it as well, I caught the barback/bouncer's eye and jerked my head toward ID, asking him to kick ID out. He tried, and ID threatened to sue his
ass for a breach of Constitutional rights.
Finally, ID left, calling DP out the entire way. DP was more than ready to follow him out, but M and I managed to persuade him that jail time would be non-conducive to him getting to rehearsal. Three was much patting of the back and manly thumping, as well as compliments on how I handled ID. The cab came, and we left.
There's not many nights like this. I wouldn't go if there were. But sociologically? It's fascinating. And personally? I'm kind of proud of myself. I wish I had had the wit to cut this drunkass down so he would have left on his own. but that's something I doubt I'll ever have. What I do have now is the knowledge that I can tell people to stop bothering my friends and take a complaint to management if they want to or if I need to. A little bit of faith in myself. That's pretty cool.
Man. It's past 2 a.m. I will be an incoherent wreck tomrrow. Oy.