Four Stars

Just got a great write up in the local newspaper’s food magazine:

“The small, warm room blanketed in red bustled with people, noise, and music. This bar is a classy spot with a bit of a twist. Our delicious cocktails came with names like oxymoron and hucklepeary and each arrived with a plastic monkey hanging from the rim. The souvenirs were a big hit with my crowd; we’re big fans of monkey business.”

Continues on about how good the food and service are. And another picture, although this one is of the back of my head!!!!!

A Christmas Story

Thank God the holidays are over. Somehow with the combination of Christian spirit and holiday cheer makes most people anxious and difficult to be around. The added stress that comes from having to wait at the post office for 40 minutes just to buy a book of stamps (the machine is out), slippery streets, knowing that you are buying presents for people that you hate and in turn knowing that you will receive presents from people that you hate and in turn probably hate the presents that you received always creates a general feeling of apprehension and fretfulness. Take these people, many of whom only go out to celebrate during the holidays, in a busy bar and give them a little alcohol and yes you got it, by the end of the holidays you question your ability to ever really like anyone again.

Our holiday season at the restaurant leapt off to a swift start as our pantry cook took a dive off of a refrigerator a week before Christmas. No one is quite sure what she was doing up there, although we’ve noticed that in many aspects she is not as evolved as other humans and could quite possibly still have some monkey chromosomes left in her. Unfortunate to her, monkeys have a keen sense of balance and agility she seems to be lacking.

A few days after her daring attempt to break her neck, she got a fretful case of the flu and called out sick right before her shift. Leaving our two-man kitchen with only one man. Upon inspection, it appeared that there was no way in hell that he could make all of the food, so I left my bartending position to make salads and desserts. It is one of the most miserable nights I’ve had in the service industry, knowing that ticket times were three to four times longer than our average and that service was suffering because I was in the back of the house, making the front of the house short staffed. Amazingly, we didn’t have any unhappy guests. Once the situation was explained, everyone was very considerate. Nonetheless, the stress level was high and there was a fine line between the guests being o.k. and with all the tables just walking out in a general fit of justified frustration. Fortunately, the staff is made of sweet talkers who hypnotized them into thinking it was the greatest experience of their life. That is why each server is automatically given a pocket watch on a chain on her first night working.

Two nights later, the bald headed man who slipped on the floor (Aug. 30 blog) walked in with all of the TV newsgirls, the owner of a prominent restaurant in town, and a chef of another restaurant in town who’s birthday it was. The owner of my bar was in the restaurant and shouted hello to him. I wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on, was she friends with this asshole. I looked at her and said, you know - he’s not allowed in here. It turns out she had just met him at their other restaurant because he was such a pain in the ass she had to smooth things over with him.

She never knows what to do in these situations, she looked like a deer in the headlights. The server of that table looked at me like “what the fuck” and I told her that I would tell him he needed to leave. But in the presence of all of these people, we didn’t want to make a scene. Especially in front of the newsgirls, they are all very nice and come in the bar a lot. One of them dates our building manager and they are in the bar three times a week. We decided to tell him that he could stay with the birthday party as long as he was on his best behavior and didn’t cause any problems. Any creature including a hungry momma grizzly bear could have done better at controlling its behavior than this man. He immediately began to physically trip our food runner, make a scene about not getting a drink, and call his server names. At that, he had to leave. On his way out he flipped me off. I followed him out and asked him if he understood he was never to set foot on our property again. He started fluttering his hands in my face telling me that I was annoying him. I have never dealt with anyone as condescending, belittling, and disrespectful as this man. I asked, “Annoying you. I am annoying you? You are not even allowed onto this property. We give you the benefit of the doubt, on which you shit all over and now I am annoying you. If you don’t leave this property right now, I will call the police and have you physically removed from in front of my bar.”

He was with a very large blond woman who was obviously horrified by all of this. After he left, she came in and asked what that was all about. I explained that he had an incident at the bar and we decided that he was 86’d, but we had thought to let him in because it was a birthday party and he was with the birthday boy’s sister. This girl started freaking out because she didn’t trust that man and she didn’t want him near her sister-in-law, who was obviously dating him. I couldn’t agree with her more, since in the back of my head I figure that on the side he tricks young woman into his car, poisons them, and then cuts them up and sticks them in his freezer on days that he’s bored. She kept telling me how sorry she was for me. I told her to stop pitying me. I wouldn’t have to deal with him again, I replied, that’s the great thing about the bar - no matter how bad it is, no matter how awful a customer is, or a situation is, it will eventually end. And the shift will be over and it will be a completely new day the next day. She however, was dealing with family, which is never over. I told her to save her pity for her young beautiful sister-in-law who justifies dating a man who is older than her father and is mentally and physically abusive to everyone around him. If she lives through this relationship, she will need every ounce of pity she can garner to rebound against such a bad decision.

New Year’s eve came and went without any incidents. Just a very long work day, I was at the restaurant for over 15 hours in order to transform the space into a tiki bar. But my hard work paid off, we broke a record, everyone had fun, and we made lots of money. The owners of the bar were thrilled and thanked me about 30 times, which is great because typically I feel under-appreciated, like all good restaurant managers.

I should have known that the feeling couldn’t last more than 48 hours, but for some reason I always am hopeful, almost like a child. And just like most children's hope is killed by a stunning dose of reality, so was mine. Two days into the new year, the woman who owns the bar and I got into a dispute over nose piercings. Which are against the rules in the rule book, but three staff members have them and no one has ever said dick to them. But on this certain night, she came in, scolded our new food runner for having a piercing (she has already been working with us for over a month) and told her to go straight to the office for a talk. I was appalled, since she also had just called down to the restaurant and told one of the servers that she was an idiot. I love my staff, they work very hard for me and are very loyal. They are smart, witty, good salespeople, and extraordinarily hard working. I didn’t feel like the owner should be shitting on them for no reason than to improve her ego. So we had an argument. Which is still up in the air. I apologized that night; I didn’t figure it was worth having a fit about. She however, is still not speaking to me.

So on that note, Happy New Year’s!

___________________________________

What’s New Cocktail Wise:

Sub Rosa just released some new vodkas onto the market that are unlike anything else right now. The vodkas come out of Dundee, Oregon and are only available on the West Coast right now. But if you see them, pick them up and mess around with them. They are bold and fun.

Oxymoron

Sub Rosa tarragon vodka, ginger syrup, lemon juice, and simple syrup

Oblivion

Sub Rosa saffron vodka, ginger syrup, orange bitters, fresh squeezed orange, and lime juice

Garnished with pepper threads (they look like saffron)

Berry Bliss

A four berry lemon drop made with Three Olives berry vodka, blackberry puree, lemon juice, and simple syrup

Topped with a blackberry, blueberry, cinnamon foam

This drink is killing it

Orchid Lychee Mimosa

Orchid Lychee Liqueur, Hou Hou Shu Sparkling sake, served with a lychee fruit

Easy to make and very yummy. I think it will do better in the spring and summer, although it is doing o.k. now.

___________________________________

An Indian walks into a cafe with a shotgun in one hand and a bucket of buffalo manure in the other. He says to the waiter, "Me want coffee".

The waiter says, "Sure chief, coming right up". He gets the Indian a tall mug of coffee, and the Indian drinks it down in one gulp, picks up the bucket of manure, throws it into the air, blasts it with the shotgun, then just walks out.

The next morning the Indian returns. He has his shotgun in one hand and a bucket of buffalo manure in the other. He walks up to the counter and says to the waiter, "Me want coffee". The waiter says "Whoa, Tonto. We're still cleaning up your mess from the last time you were here. What the heck was that all about, anyway?"

The Indian smiles and proudly says, "Me in training to buy restaurant. Come in, drink coffee, shoot the shit, and disappear for the rest of the day."

Money Makes the World Go Round

In the midst of trying to finish my business plan and talk to investors, the owner of one of the hot restaurants in town came and asked me to train his bartender behind my bar. He claimed that the reason he couldn’t do it at his bar is due to the fact he is closed for the month to do a remodel. His second overhaul in less than two years. Completely unnecessary if you ask me since he has one of the most beautiful restaurants in town, I’m not quite sure where he gets the money.

Obviously, I wasn’t going to train his bartender because he claims that in his remodel he is redesigning to be the adult version of our bar. Which we aren’t really quite sure what that means, since the average age of our guest is probably 45 (although I have the sneaking suspicion that most of them like Jell-O and play with tinker toys in their free time). Anyhow, he asked and I didn’t say anything but that I’d have to think about it. I figured if I had a day, I could figure out a better way to phrase, “You coke-sniffing scum sucker who calls himself a chef because he knows what julienne vegetables are, what are you fucking nuts, we are not training your bartender for free so you can steal all of our drinks, systems, and ideas.” He had the audacity to send this poor kid in and tell him that he was going to “help” me behind the bar. I got a phone call from the opener at 4 p.m. telling me that some guy was there for a realistic. I haven’t hired anyone in months and I am not hiring anyone, so I was baffled. Then I figured out it must be the scum sucking chef’s little henchman. When I got to work at 5:30, he was having dinner with coke-sniffer who was so delighted that I was going to train his bartender. I called him the next day and said as flattered as we were to be asked to train him, he needed no training since bartending is just really glorified dishwashing.

So I met with an investor last week who is looking to get out of the business he is in now. He is in his early 30’s and has always dreamt of owning a restaurant. He came to me, I didn’t go to him, which felt good. But his ideas of what a bar should be differ from mine and I don’t think I want him to be my soul partner. He is a nice guy, but extremely boring with absolutely no sense of humor. I found myself explaining tidbits of sarcasm most of our lunch. I don’t know how he feels about being just being one of many investors; I have the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t like it because he really wants to be a part of the restaurant, which is exactly why I want to have more than one investor. Nonetheless, he is very interested and sounds like he could put the money together. So it is a start, made me start thinking more in the money terms and less in the concept of a restaurant terms. It also made me see that the first step is to see if I can buy the bar I manage now and then if that doesn’t work to move forward from there. On Thursday, I have lunch with one of my regulars who absolutely adores me and when I asked him to have lunch with me because I was looking at buying the bar he told me what an idiot I am to want to invest in that business because the entry was too low, the success rate is minimal, and the return is low. And I agreed with him on all of those things, but it wasn’t what I was expecting and definitely a blow to my ego and a shock nonetheless. But I feel better now, still ready to go eat lunch with him on Thursday. I’m taking my best friend, who I also work with, who is positive she can sell him on the idea.

So maybe it is the beginning to something bigger for me. For the meantime we got a write up in the local food magazine for our winter cocktail list. I just got photographed for another local magazine and Sunset Magazine is doing a piece on the bar. I’m supposed to talk to the woman writing the article tomorrow. Hopefully it is very glamorous and enticing.

Excited for the weekend. We are going to do hot buttered rums with cinnamon nutmeg compound butter, homemade caramel, and spiced rum. I’m also making eggnog from scratch with Myer’s and brandy. I have a crème brûlée martini with vanilla cream, Navan Vanilla Liquor, and Vanilla vodka with a handcrafted vanilla sugar candy that I made that’s been killing it. I drizzled the candy when it was drying and all of the candies look like beautiful pieces of artwork. I’m also doing a gingerbread martini with a gingerbread man hanging off the rim of the glass for First Friday. I think it will be really cute.

Cocaine

Cocaine is God's way of saying you earn far too much.

A History Lesson

Alcohol can tell your history. The first time I ever drank hard alcohol was at one of my parent’s friend’s parties. They lived up on a hill on the south side of town next to miles of sprawling BLM land filled with piñon trees and cacti. While everyone was enjoying the nice weather and the mountain vistas, my sister, her friend, and I put some brandy in a large Dixie cup and informed our parents that we were walking back to town. It was the middle of summer and the day was long, we walked late in the evening in full daylight each taking sips with a quick shake of the head after each one.

That would be one of the last times I drank hard alcohol in moderation. I was soon thereafter awarded a scholarship to go to Europe and within a month found myself drinking pot-stilled vodka mixed with Coca Cola until I vomited, but even that wouldn’t keep me from ordering another drink. I moved back to the states for an unusual fondness for McCormick’s vodka mixed with orange soda. As were my platform shoes and short haircut short lived once back in the States, my palette changed for a partiality for micro-brews and marijuana. One day some unusually clear thinking showed me that I was spending quite a lot on beer and how that could be better spent on clothing and long trips. I quit drinking for the most part and then almost entirely when I met a guy who viewed alcohol almost in the same context as my Southern Baptist grandmother, that it was only put on this earth to make you weak. I was doing pull ups off the door jams at this point, so any chance of fragility was out of the question.

I left college and moved to the city where I was surrounded by people that drank as a hobby, a sport, and some for exercise. I started hanging out more and jumped on the cosmo craze, feeling hip with my pink sips as I developed an interest in designer clothing, chef-inspired cuisine, and started to understand the difference between a viognier and a barolo. I soon after took on a cheerful alcoholic as a boyfriend who turned me onto Crown Royal and expensive bottles of champagne. It is with this I left a three-year relationship when I was making some of the better money of my life, with nothing more than a few photos of well-dressed drunk people in fancy restaurants.

After a move to the Virgin Islands and a realization that I needed to regain a sense of dignity and pride, I moved back to my hometown. Where I met my husband who showed me the delights of Jameson. I then found Jameson 12 at an Irish pub in Phoenix, and for now that is my staple drink. I like looking at the back of a bar and seeing a bottle that reminds me of a certain time, or a certain place, or a certain friend. I just wonder how that history is for some people, for example my regular D.

D is in his late 40’s, tall and thin with a long blond ponytail. He is always very cheerful and loves to tell everybody what good energy they have. He is the kind of guy who keeps crystals in his pocket and advises to have your tarot read in times of trouble. He usually never has any trouble himself, since his father sold a winery in Napa in the 70s and D lives off of that money. Thus, D has never had to work and lives about 25 miles out of town on a ranch that has an abundance of housecats and no other animals.

Obviously, money is not an issue to D. He has always been an extremely generous tipper and a good spender. Over the months I’ve come to learn that he is engaged to a woman S, who waits tables two nights a week at a French bistro in the town that they live near. He always speaks very highly of her and how they were getting married in Hawaii in February. About two months ago, he brought S in for dinner. She is the same age as he, extremely beautiful, nice, and charming. S and D started coming for dinner once a week, always sitting at the bar, always ordering the same NxNW glass of cabernet and ending with the same Italian coffee drink.

Last Friday, D was in alone. Which is not unusual. He had two Italian coffees and his tab was $15. He paid with a credit card and then left $100 as the tip. I didn’t look at the slip and just put it in the drawer. G.I. Joe might have thought that knowledge is half the battle but when it comes to what people have tipped me, I’ve found that I cannot help but lose my enthusiasm to poor tippers and furthermore I think it’s tacky to look at the charge slips as you pick them up.

A few moments later, he calls me over with the curl of his pointer finger and says, “you didn’t see the tip, did you?” To which I replied no, I didn’t. He says, I left you $100 and then I feel like he is trying to kiss me from over the bar. I turn my head and say thank you but wonder if he thinks I am one of the cheapest prostitutes in Bend. I saw Cathouse, $100 won’t even get you a hand job. But the money wasn’t really for me; it was to impress the smart-looking blond girl sitting next to him. He proceeded to place his arm around her, rub her back, and kiss her on the neck. He bought another round of drinks, this time Voyant Chai liqueur, and this time left $50 on it. He left with this blond girl and put on a show of kissing her hard against his truck outside of the restaurant.

At 1:45 a.m. the phone rings. The phone never rings this late into the night, I am always alone now with the doors locked counting money or putting stuff away. So to hear anything in the building is shocking. I answer it. S asks me if I’ve seen D becaise she is concerned that she hasn’t seen him all night. I told her he left the bar around 10 p.m. I was surprised that he was fucking around on her; surprised that this woman was calling in the middle of the night, surprised that somehow I was in the middle of their fuck-up-ed-ness. But unfortunately, I am numb to people having affairs, people cheating with their wives’ best friends, and bar owners fucking their staff while their wives do the books in the backroom.

D & S came in the next night. S told me how D had fallen asleep in the truck in the driveway and how she didn’t find him until morning. I had to turn around and roll my eyes. S was looking at the back of the bar and saw the tall orange bottle that the Voyant comes in and asked about it. I told her it was Chai Tea Liqueur and that it was very yummy and creamy with cinnamon and nutmeg, like putting the flavor of Christmas in a bottle. She asked D if he wanted to try it and he says no. So just like I think of fun times, friends, and exquisite meals I’ve had when I scan across the bar, I just hope for D’s sake that they don’t have Voyant at the bar on his wedding day.

Dear Abby:

My husband is a liar and a cheat. He has cheated on me from the beginning, and when I confront him, he denies everything. What's worse, everyone knows he cheats on me. It is so humiliating. Also, since he lost his job over three years ago he hasn't even looked for a new one. All he does is buy cigars and cruise around and bullshit with his pals, while I have to work to pay the bills. Since our daughter went away to college he doesn't even pretend to like me and hints that I am a lesbian.

What should I do?

Signed,

Clueless


Dear Clueless:

Grow up and dump him. For Pete's sake, you don't need him anymore. You're a United States Senator from New York, act like it!

Attack of the Flu

For the past three years, October has brought a debilitating fit of bronchitis to me. I scurry around sick people year round without as much as a cough and then at the end of each October I suddenly cannot breathe when lying on my back and find a certain satisfaction when coughing up hard balls of mucus. I fantasize about never getting out of bed and watching television game shows until I have figured out the pattern on Press Your Luck. I watch the side of the bed become a cesspool of used tissues and use my sickness as an excuse to have food, books, magazines, and vitamins delivered to me by my husband as if I am some sort of invalid.

And it is with this state of body and mind I worked for the past three days. As alluring as it would be to not move and just sleep, I have no choice but go work eight to nine long hours on my feet in a busy bar. Smiling, laughing, joking, without coughing, sniffling, or lying down. It has been a real challenge to my showmanship and a real game in patience. Fortunately, we were busy but not to a point of any real challenge. Last Saturday was absolutely insane and I was behind the bar by myself. So I was glad to have another bartender on last night and I was able to sneak away and get some other stuff done, in particular change the cocktail menu.

I’m excited about the new drinks I’m putting on. The first called HucklePeary which is 44 North
Huckleberry Vodka, Grey Goose Pear, a dash of Gomme Syrup, and a little bit of fresh grapefruit juice.

The Second is called What’s up Doc and is Organic Carrot Juice, Ginger Syrup, a dash of fresh squeezed lemon juice, and Yazi Ginger Vodka.

The Third is called Pomoru Shu and is Pearl Plum Vodka, a dash of Crème de Casis, and Hou Hou Shu Sparkling Sake.

The Fourth is called Chai-Tea-Ni and is Voyant Chai Tea Liqueur, Vodka, Cinamon Nutmeg syrup, and a hint of cream.

The Fifth is called Red Curry and is Bicardi Coconut Rum, Ginger Syrup, Lime Juice, and a splash of Mazama Pepper Vodka to give it some heat.

And regardless of these fancy cocktails, a $33,000 bar top, and a clientele made up mostly of retired golfers, lawyers, doctors, and other professionals. Somehow some sort of sleeze can always find his way through the door. One such creature walked through the door last night, so sloppily dressed I thought he was a cab driver because I had fares waiting for a cab. But he ponied up to the bar and ordered a Grey Goose on the rocks. The other bartender poured it for him and I went about tending to other things. Not soon after, one of our favorite customers who is the chef at a neighboring restaurant told me that the sleeze was annoying the women next to him. I decided to do a load of dishes and then deal with it, and at that point the women got up and told the sleeze that he was freaking them out. I moved the women to a table and let the guy sit by himself for a moment. But within seconds he was in the midst of the chef’s conversation with his friend. His friend was sitting next to the sleeze and the sleeze asked if he wanted to go to the strip bar with him. He replied that he would have to ask his wife, the other bartender. The other bartender isn’t his wife but replied that she keeps a tight leash on him and that he couldn’t go to the titty bar. The sleeze then proceeded to bop him in the side of the head. He replied, “Don’t hit me in the head.” And the sleeze said, “You can hit me in the head, but I’ll hit you right back.” So I looked at him and said, “You have annoyed two women to a point where they don’t want to be in the bar. Now you have invited yourself in a conversation where you are not welcome. Then you proceed to hit this person on the head. You need to go.” He asked if he were getting kicked out of the bar because he wasn’t leaving. So I went out from under the bar, grabbed him by the hoodie and pulled him out the door. He put both of his arms out and grabbed onto the door so he couldn’t leave. And I looked at him and asked him if he wanted me to call the police on him. And he still was grabbing on, so I pulled one of his arms off the door which caused him to fall because he was pulling all of his weight from the doorjam. By this point three men were standing there ready to save me, but fortunately once again, I didn’t need saved.

So that was the highlight of the night. And today, I haven’t got out of bed once.

Cheers!

"My doctor told me to take something for my cold."
"What did you take?"
"His Coat!"

Who likes it up the ass?

About three months ago, a blond guy in his early thirties came into the bar with a friend. In a fit of extreme anxiety he blurted out, “Do you use fresh herbs?” Since I wasn’t quite sure if he was trying to get the name of a reputable drug dealer or a mojito, I asked him to repeat himself. He replied, “You know, fresh herbs.” And I asked what for ? And he said, “You know for your drinks.” You would think that the six mojitos with delicate mint leaves floating in them right next to him and a full glass of luscious picked mint would be enough to answer his dense question, so I replied, “No, we use plastic herbs with a special time-release crystal that makes your drink extra fresh and minty!” The guy replied, “Well you’re a sarcastic one aren’t you. Actually you are just obnoxious.” And I told him that he was right and there was a bar just right across the street for arrogant ignorant equally obnoxious bar customers where kind loving tolerant bartenders would be nice to him regardless. And with that, the guy became a regular.

Jim does contract work at the hospital and comes in to town about every two weeks. The third time he came in, he was with a fellow contractor and ended up sitting next to two blatantly gay men who were opening a high-end fashion boutique in town. Jim just happened to go to the restroom in between the two guys giggling and taunting one another, when the lispier of the two gay men asked me if Jim batted for their team. I have moderate to good gaydar, but certainly not as good as someone who actually takes a chance shoving his dick up a straight man’s ass. Since I hadn’t put that much thought into it, I told him that I didn’t know.

A few weeks later, Jim reappeared with three well-dressed men who were all joking about where they get their hair done, who has hotter abs, and what they like to feed their cats. I couldn’t believe that I had missed it, obviously Jim was gay. There was no doubt and to confirm my new found suspicion he stayed late with one of the men drinking until the bitter end at which point they made plans on meeting at Jim’s hotel room. The next three times Jim was in, he was hanging out with this guy.

Only a few weeks later, Jim came in with some of his workmates. One of them started chatting about his dog which led me to gush about my dog, the direct result of childless people in their 30’s owning a pet. Jim’s friend claimed he was the same about his dog, allowing the mutt to rule his life until he had children and learned to put the dog in its place. Curious as to how having children had affected his marriage, I changed the subject from the dog. Which of course led to him gibbering about how darling his two babies were. Out of the blue, Jim piped in how absolutely adorable his son is. “You have a son?” thinking that this is a remnant of the days before Jim took strangers home from the bar to blow him. “Yeah, he’s four months and in reply to your question it has brought my wife and me closer together too.”

Yeah.

If any young beautiful women would like to marry Yakov, he is having a wedding on August 8, 2008 for himself. He doesn’t have a bride yet but is excited for the wedding.

There were these two friends, one who was gay, who died in a horrible car accident. They both went to heaven and were standing at the pearly gates when St. Peter met them.

St. Peter asked the first man for a picture of his wife. After looking at the picture, St. Peter asked him if he had ever cheated on her.

The man replied, "I was unfaithful to my wife one time."

St. Peter decided to give the man a station wagon for him to drive around heaven.

Now it was the second man's turn.

St. Peter asked him for a picture of his wife and then asked if he had ever cheated on her.

The man replied, "Actually I'm gay, but here's a picture of my lover, and I never cheated on him."

St. Peter was very impressed and decided to give the man a Ferrari to drive around heaven.

After a few months in heaven, the two friends met up with each other. The second man was bragging about his Ferrari when the other turned to him and said, "I wouldn't be bragging if I were you. I just saw your lover on a skateboard."

Asshole Down!

This is the documentation of my night.

This evening around 9 p.m. a tall bald gentleman dressed in a white dress shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots came into the bar and sat at seat three on the bar. I was not behind the bar when he ordered, but he had Grey Goose with a Chamord float and a twist. He did not appear to be intoxicated when he entered the bar. He got up to use the restroom, which entails walking across the restaurant, and slipped. I did not see it, but another server did and came and told me. I asked her if he was all right and she yes. I asked her if there was anything on the floor and she said no. He returned from the restroom and asked to speak to a manager. I said I could help him. He told me that our floor was ridiculously slippery and he didn't know what kind of wax we used on the floor, but it was unnecessary. I replied that we didn't use any wax on the floor, but we would certainly look into making it less slippery. I never told him that no one else had ever slipped on the floor, although no one ever has. He showed me the bottom of his boot, which was very slick and had absolutely no tread on it. He told me that he did not know what type of shoes we wore here, but he had on absolutely normal shoes and it was ludicrous how slippery the floor was and that he could sue us and take everything we had. I asked him if he was hurt and he said no and that he wouldn't sue the bar anyhow because he was already rich. He then added that he was from New York City and had a sick sense of humor. At this point I figured he was done, he had vented, we had established that he wasn't hurt, and I said that we would look into the floor not being so slippery.

He takes a few steps and then asks me my name. After I reply, he begins to personally attack me by telling me that I need to change it. I replied that I was sorry that he had happened to take a spill in our restaurant, but that was no reason to personally insult me. He then sat down and started rubbing his arm saying that it had pulled out of the socket when he slipped and once again he would sue us. I assured him that if he had hurt himself that we had insurance that would cover his medical bills and asked if I could call him a doctor. He said that he didn't need a doctor and that he wasn't going to sue, that he had all the money he needed. He then proceeded to start calling people on his cell phone. He made a big scene about calling people and telling them where he was, but never said that he was hurt. I had a server make him an ice pack for his arm. He never put the ice pack on his arm. He just rubbed it one more time. He complained again about the slippery floor, claiming he was a hockey skater and a superb athlete, not one to be clumsy or slip on a floor. I left to go to the office and called the owner of the bar, to ask him to come down to talk to this man. The owner said he would be right down. I went back out and told him that the owner would be right down to talk to him. He said that he would not still be in the bar; I told him that the owner was well on his way and would be present momentarily. To that, he got up and left the bar.

He never appeared to be intoxicated, rather an arrogant ass on an ego trip.

1) Here are the other written down statements as to the night.

A man walked by us at the bar, fell and grabbed my arm for support. When he rose he complained about his boots and seemed intoxicated. He carried on about his cowboy boots and the floor. He seemed fine and without injury. And he left the bar.

2) We were having a great dinner. We saw the man next to us walk around and slip on the floor, he appeared to catch himself but was very embarrassed and made a big deal to a couple that was directly behind his slip. When coming back from the restroom, he started talking to a waitress, then accused her of being defensive because her arms were crossed. But he was talking about suing the place. (I personally always cross my arms) He asked her name and then told her to change her name. He had really bad energy. He said a kid was laughing at him. He was very aggressive. Called someone complaining.

On that note, I hope this man dies and burns in hell.

This guy went into a bar and ordered a beer. He happened to look down the bar and see a man sitting there with a head the size of a cue ball. So he walked down and said to the man, “Excuse me sir, I don't mean to be rude but I noticed you have a small head. Is this a birth defect?” The man said “No, I got this in the war. My ship was torpedoed by the German's in WWII. I was the only survivor on the ship so I swam to shore. One day a mermaid swam up to me and said she would grant me three wishes. For my first wish I wanted to return to the U.S. The mermaid granted that wish. My second wish was to have all the money I would ever need. Wish granted. My third wish was to have sex with the mermaid. She said, ‘I can't grant that wish because mermaids can't have sex.’”

So I said, “How about a little head?”