I’ll admit it; I am a bar type of person. When I dine out, I prefer to sit at the bar instead of a table. Why? Because of the interaction with the staff and other diners. It’s kind of like sitting at the “friends” table.
But sometimes sitting at the bar can become a bit awkward or uncomfortable when someone is drunk, upset, or generally just being a jerk.
The other night I was at the bar of a local place, where I’ve enjoyed many meals and conversations. There was a party of four seated two stools down and it was obvious they’d been drinking. A lot.
By the time I’d arrived and was into my first cocktail, the group had become loud and were voicing their opinions and gripes about many things – mainly their pathetic sounding lives and of course, the meal they’d been served.
Apparently, based on their complaining, they weren’t happy with the food they’d ordered and one of the diners was trying to blame the bartender, saying they’d ordered something else instead of what they’d received. The bartender, whom I’ve known for a year now and someone who has always been accurate, courteous and professional, was at a loss as to how to handle the situation.
She’d tried to offer the drunk diner other options, but the man wasn’t having any of that and kept slurring, “I don’t want another f—ing meal, I want my money back.” Actually, it sounded more like, “Ish mah fookna, ish mah mooooon ca.” Seriously.
When the manager of the establishment came over to assist – he’d been telling me how he had tried several times to “help” them be on their way – the wife of the drunk guy, who was even worse off – told him to “back off, he knows what he’s doing.” Or, in their slobbering dribble language: “wak ov, eee cows blah blah.”
Both the bartender and the owner had had enough. They removed the food from the bar, to which all four of the idiots protested, “amm no dung!”, confiscated their open bottle of wine, (the husband of the other drunk woman wanted to take it with them and did his best to ask if it could be re-corked. He didn’t like the answer he got), and the chef, who happens to be a really big guy, came out of the back and told the party it was time to go. NOW.
There were a few more loudly slurred and fairly vulgar words dribbled out by the drunks as they were escorted to the door. The final words from the wife of the first drunk guy were “Thaf’s da lath thime wahllbee ha!” (Translated: “That’s the last time we’ll be back!”)
The only thing I wish I had done was to get a picture of these idiots and share it around to all the local establishments, Facebook, twitter and Instagram too, to warn them of letting these people sit at their bar or order alcohol. Or let them in at all.
Based on the girth and the manners of the party it was obvious they didn’t know two things (and I’m sure a boatload of other stuff too); 1) How to behave in public and 2) When it’s time to STOP.
But it sure gave the rest of us something to laugh about.