Share your drunk-jerk-at-the-bar stories!

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

So after dealing with this fuckbubble, I arrive with my two friends at Noe’s, a bar at 24th & Church with a Cybelle’s Pizza connected to it. Great place for pizza, beer, and a ballgame. We get there at about 5:30, to watch the All-Star Game. It’s pretty empty, so we manage to snag a table directly across from the bar and the big screen TV. We get some pizza and a pitcher of Anchor Liberty. Life is good.

Then we start to notice this guy sitting alone at the bar. Your basic drunk mick (hey, we can sense our own), who’d obviously been there a few hours already. And he’s staring at us. Blatantly. I mean, he is literally turned all the way around in his barstool staring at me right in the eyes. Now, this is no big deal to me, but I’m hoping Drunky McDrunkerson isn’t freaking out my friends to much on their first bar experience as residents of San Francisco. Drunky mumbles once in a while, the three of us look at each other and laugh, and we go back to the game. Drunky keeps staring.

After a while, the bartender notices, and she tells him to turn around. He will for a few seconds, and then turn back around to stare. After twenty minutes of this, I go up to the bartender and tell her not to worry too much about it; that we’re not gonna try to start a fight or anything. She says, “Well, that’s cool, but he’s a bit of a loose cannon, and he needs to learn who’s boss here.” Well, fuckinay, you go, girl.

The night bartender comes in, and is briefed on Drunky, and they have a little pow-wow with him. “Turn, around, you’re freaking out other people, yada yada…” He’d been cut off for a while at this point. He was better after this talk, but he would still turn around, dropping a “what did you say?” or “fuck you!”

Eventually, after being told to turn around a few times, the bartender 86’d him, which was a process in itself. After she was trying to kick him out a few minutes, a couple of larger, louder guys from the other end of the bar came over to kick him out. One of 'em looks like he coulda been a baseball player in the early seventies; tall, full of piss and vinegar, and still had a better head of hair than me. They didn’t touch him, which was probably a good idea, and after a good few minutes of “Get the fuck out! Get the fuck out!” he managed to stumble out, told us to go fuck ourselves, and left.

He put the keys into his motorcyle (yeah), wobbled around a bit, and then came back in demanding the keys to his motorcycle. After ten minutes of that, the bartender called the cops. By now a few of the other guys got the baseball player dude away from him, as he was getting toward the point of fighting. A cop car happened by the bar and someone flagged him down, and the cop talked to the drunk for a good twenty minutes outside while the rest of us let out the laughter we’d been holding in for the past hour or two. The cop must’ve told him to chill out for a bit on the sidewalk, which he did, occasionally knocking on the glass of the bar windows, and eventually left.

Oh, and I burnt my tongue on the pizza. That sucked.

So, what are your “Man, I think the drunk dude’s about to start a fight” stories?

2

Said angrily by some drunk fool to some guy you don’t know.

3

My SO is in a band, so I often go to the band’s gigs to watch them play. This means that I am often a girl sitting by herself in a bar, and wowee, the drunks do come a-callin’. Mostly to ineptly hit on me, but occasionally to be outright disturbing.

Exhibit A:
Starts out innocuously enough. Guy who’s been checking me out passes by and offers a handshake. I shake his hand.

Guy comes back 10 minutes later and says, “You’re very pretty. Very pretty.” I say thanks, he walks away again.

Comes and sits next to me a little while later, and things quickly devolved. I mostly stayed because I didn’t know how to extricate myself, but also out of morbid fascination about what he would say next. The following are direct quotes with some of the drunk mumbling taken out for clarity. Keep in mind that I could only understand about 1/3 of what he said, so who knows what other horrifying revelations were in there that I just didn’t catch.

“When I look at a woman’s ass I want to see that I could put a nickel about halfway up her back and have it roll right into the crack of her ass. I noticed you as soon as you walked in and you’ve got a great ass. A great ass. It’s a champion ass.* I’d like to put a nickel in it.”

“I love to masturbate. I do it all the time. Someone who says they don’t, they’re lying. Someone asks me if I masturbate, I raise both hands. I coached football and the first thing I asked my guys was who pulled their pudding. There were three that didn’t raise their hands, so I made them pull down their pants and jerk it right there in the locker room in front of the rest of the team. Cuz the whole team needs to do that to have the right energy. I don’t allow prisses on my team. They could either masturbate right there or get out and not play. Every one of them did it.”

“You been to North high school? They got a picture of my old man on the wall there in the locker room. They called him Big Jim when he was there. And let me tell you, he was built like me. He wasn’t a big guy in frame. They called him Big Jim because of the size of his cock. My dad had a huge cock. I’m built like him. You go to the high school and look at his picture. Called him Big Jim because of his dick.”

All this in the span of about 10 minutes before I finally bailed and rallied a group of strangers into shielding me from him. Holy crow. Oh yeah, and he has five grandkids, “he thinks.” “You think?” I say. “Isn’t that something you should know?” “Yeah, well, my daughter’s run off and she don’t talk to me no more.” Gee, I wonder why.

  • My SO now calls me “Champ” in honor of this
4

Mr. S has a friend from high school who’s LARGE. Very Large. But a Very Large Teddy Bear, wouldn’t hurt a fly. One day Mr. Large was in a bar with a few buddies, hanging out. At the other end was a little guy having a beer and minding his own business. Some drunken asshole decided to try to pick a fight with the little guy, taunting him with the usual “let’s go outside” nonsense. He kept at it until he was pretty much annoying everybody in the place. Finally, Mr. Large sidled over and said to the drunk very calmly, “If he goes outside, we go outside with him.”

The drunk shut up.

5

My worst drunk jerk encounter was when a good-looking guy (who was so schnockered that he could barely stand) staggered over to me and said “Honey, I’ll give you ten bucks for a blow job, but you’ll have to put a paper bag over your head.” Then he stumbled away, laughing uproariously at his own wit. Others laughed, too.

I’m never the best-looking chick in the joint, but I didn’t need to be reminded that I’m not a beauty queen.

6

I was with my wife and two of her friends at a local brewery and restaurant. We were hoisting a few and having a relaxed evening. One of my wife’s friends went to powder her nose (read: pinch off a loaf), and when she returned, some young scalawag was standing next to her chair. She politely said “excuse me.”

That’s all she said. He launched into her, calling her a fucking cunt and a stuck-up bitch. Her husband, who happened to manage the brewery (of no consequence to the story, just a detail I remembered), stood up and asked the guy to leave. Her husband was a little guy, about 5’6’’. The guy told him that he would be doing no such thing, getting very close to his face and poking him in the chest and screaming at him.

I had stood up as well and was behind the guy. I tapped him on the shoulder, and asked him what the problem was. I’m 6’2’’. Not really big at the time, but much taller than the drunken antagonist.

It did the trick. Apparently, there was no problem, and he skulked away. And I came off like a hero. Free drinks for the rest of the night. And then I was the drunken jerk.

Not really. I was drunk, though. But I was a hoot.

7

Two stories, actually.

I was hanging out with a couple lesbian friends of mine one time at a local bar. We were just sitting at a table in the back, minding our own business, having some beers. There is an older tourist type guy sitting in the opposite corner, by himself, just watching us. A few guys come over, buy us some drinks, generally get the idea that we aren’t interested and leave after some thanks and we continue talking. Creepy guy is still watching us. After about an hour, creepy guy comes over and sits himself down at the table, very much uninvited. Very much druk also. Informs us that if we let him have a foursome with us, he could show us the time of our lives. The fact that my two friends had been snuggling and smooching all night probably only helped to fuel the fantasy. Creepy guy gets more obnoxious, more vulgar, more suggestive that if we just follow him back to his room (hotel bar) that we would all have a wonderful time.
We ask him to leave, he refuses, we get uncomfortable. Finally, a couple friends of ours, large, bald, Marine friends of ours, plop themselves between creepy guy and us, and politely ask what the topic of conversation is. Creepy guy excuses himself back to his hotel room.
Another bar, another night, same company. Another older, touristy guy who has been drinking too much. He decides to make a bet that he will get Jamiee and I into bed by the end of the night. Announces this to everyone but the two of us. So as she and I are dancing and having a good time he manages to slip right there in between the two of us. And continues to dance. He is rather gross, and dirty, and unkempt, and smells bad, so obviously we are not thinking positively about his plans for us that evening. We slip back out and grab eachother and continue dancing with eachother. He slips back in and tries to grab our asses. We decide that’s enough, cue large Marine friends, last we ever saw of him.

Come to think of it, large Marine friends are good to have in bar situations.

-foxy

8

Just recently my wife and I were out at a pub here in Phoenix. We were cavorting with the big Muck-de-mucks of my wifes company. No lie by the end of the night the biggest Muck-de-muck’s husband was pissing on peoples cars and slamming his fists into the hoods stating that everyone in the world has it better than he, including his wife. (coming from the man who plays golf 364 days a year)

I truly felt bad for the boss lady, I’d love to have been a fly on the wall that night. :slight_smile:

9

Google the pub I used to work in, and two of the first-page results are football hooligan sites. Need I say more?

10

A guy who already had drunk too much staggered into a bar, left the door open, and sat on a stool and ordered a drink.
The bartender hollered, “Were you born in a barn? Go back and close that door!”
The drunk meekly walked over and closed the door gently. Then he sat back on the stool and started to cry.
The bartender said, “Hey, I’m sorry, Mister. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
The drunk said, “You didn’t hurt my feelings. But I really was born in a barn, and I get homesick every time I hear a jackass bray.”

11

Kezar Pub. (This is where the OP nods his head and smiles without reading any further :))

Football season, I’m sitting at the bar with friends, watching the game on the big screen TV across the bar. Drunken guy thinks I’m staring at him. Finally he gets up, walks over and says “You got a problem?” I say “No man - I’m watching the game behind you - the one on the big screen TV?” He laughs, pats me on the shoulder, all is well in Drunkville, he goes back.

4th quarter of the same game…uh-oh. He has forgotten and starts glaring at me again. And comes over again. And again says “You got a problem?” This time I say “Look man - we already talked about this - I’m watching the TV over your head - remember?” Unfortunately as the gerbil on the wheel in his head catches him up to speed, it’s too late for him to save face, so now he wants me to step outside. Then he notices that I’m holding my pint glass with my hand upside down - ready to break it over his head. I gently inform him that’s what I will do if he doesn’t leave me alone. He then notices (probably for the first time) how many people are watching this intently - this being one of my local hangouts and him having never stepped foot in there before - mumbles something unintelligible and leaves.

Yo drunky - you’re sitting in front of a big screen TV in a bar full of people watching football. Grab a clue.

12

Not a drunk-guy-starting-a-fight story, but still a funny drunk-dumb-guy story.

My 21st birthday, which makes it mumble mumble years ago. My first legal bender, being ferried from bar to bar by, get this, my mom.

At one place, I go into the bathroom to pay the sewer fee. I totter up to the trough and stand there, business in hand, for a few seconds.

Then another guy comes up and stands next to me at the trough. Out of the corner of my eye, I can tell something is a little unusual, but I don’t break the Cardinal Rule that says one should not look at one’s urineighbor.

But then another guy comes in and says, or rather slurs loudly, “Whoa, man, what happened to you?” So now I have to glance over.

And the dude is in this full-body brace framework thing. It’s like this halo, except it’s got four rods in a box around his entire torso, and connections at hip, neck, and head, immobilizing his spine from skull to butt.

He tells a little story about skiing, and hitting a tree. The guy who asked the question is staggeringly, blearily drunk, and wavers as he listens to the story.

Brace Man finishes his tale of woe. Drunk Man nods wisely for a few seconds, then starts wobbling toward the exit, saying, “Yeah, well, feel better, man.”

And as he passes, he gives Brace Man a friendly but quite emphatic slap on the shoulder blade.

I swear, if the dude’s eyes had bugged out any more, they would have bounced off the wall in front of him.

I don’t care how drunk you are. You do NOT thump a guy with a spinal injury in the back. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong here…

Oh, and regarding this:

The correct response: “I’ll be sure to make a pinhole to stick your dick through.”

13

Oh, so, so many. Here’s one that cracks my friend and me up to this day.

A couple years ago, I was in Vegas for my friends Demo and psycat90’s wedding. We were hanging out in a casino (shocker!) and my friend P and I go to the bar to get a drink. Now, let me just say that P is a very attractive woman. We haven’t seen each other in ages, and we’re having a nice time. While standing around at the bar, this greasy older guy comes up and stands about two feet away from us, obviously listening to us chat. We kind of look over at him, wondering what his deal is, but he doesn’t say anything, so we ignore him and continue talking. After a couple minutes, he says loudly, “Oh, okay girls! I see how it is!”

We laughed until it hurt. Who knew that we were supposed to halt our conversation to make time with Mr. Random Drunko Guy? Ah well, now we know.

A super super smashed guy tried to pick a fight with another friend at a bar awhile ago, but he did it so quietly (and the bar was fairly loud) that my friend didn’t even hear him, so he ignored him. Drunk Guy followed him back to the table where we were sitting and continued to harangue my friend, who just stared at him in confusion. I got up and told him to fuck off, and Drunk Guy tried to pick a fight with little ol’ me. Eventually the proprieters hustled him off and apologized to us profusely and gave us a round of drinks - apparently he was a regular. His name was Lance, as it turned out, and every time we heard a drunk guy yelling in the alley for months afterwards, we’d shake our heads and say “That Lance. What a cut up.”

14

Well, mine is probably a bit tame by most standards, cause it’s just a drunk gut being a jerk, not violent, angry, or creepy, but still pissed me off mightily.

A bunch of buddies and I walk out of one bar to go to another that our other friends are at. As we walk out, some drunk guy who was out ther having a smoke yells at me,
"Hey, are you guys from [our fratnerity here]?

Well, seeing as half of us were wearing out letters at the time, it was pretty obvious that we were. Anyhoo, we turn around and give the confirmative and get into a chat, cause he’s from another fraternity that we’re friends with. So a bit into the conversation he says,
“Hey, do any of you know bouvgirl?”
Now…a bit of backstory. This was at the start of my senior year. I dated a girl from about halfway through my sophomore year to the end of my junior year. She had a real name, but everyone in my fraternity called her bouvgirl, seeing as I was bouv. Now, he certainly knew her by her real name, but since he knew where we were from, he called her bouvgirl.

Well, I said that I knew her very well, since i was bouv. He sort of apologized for bringing her up for half a second, then went right into,
“Yeah, I know her pretty well. I even slept with her a few times…but it’s ok, cause she said you and her were on a break* at the time.”
.
.
.
.
If there’s one thing you don’t do when talking about someone’s ex, it’s mention that you had sex with her. And certainly don’t mention you had sex with her while you were still with her, in a way. I am in no way a violent man, I have never been in a fight in my adult life or even took a swing at someone, but I was so mad at that moment (mostly at the ex, but was focusing it on him since he was right there,) that a couple other of the guys could easily see I was could easily have popped him in the mouth, so they quickly said we had to go and dragged me out of there.

*I later learned this “break” was just an excuse for her to go around and sleep with several people she couldn’t sleep with before, since we were together. For the record, we broke up because she finally got caught by me sleeping around while not on a “break.”

15

There was a fun incident where I went to see a surf punk band play. Some idiot who had clearly overimbibed thought moshing would be a good idea. First he stepped on my foot. Then he knocked me so hard my beer got spilled (bastard!). The third time, he knocked me clean over, into my friend, who also went down. We weren’t injured but it did hurt, getting knocked onto our asses on a hard wood floor, not to mention the embarrassment factor.

That was it. The next time he pushed me, I threw what was left of my beer on him and said, “Move to the other side of the bar, now!” “What was that for?” he asked. Duh. I replied, clearly having lost my temper, “You’ve crashed into me 3e times! If you touch me again, I will break this glass on your face. Fucking go away NOW!”

I have to mention at this point that I’m all of 5 feet tall and I’ve never hit anyone with anything in my life nor gotten into a bar fight. I must have been a lot scarier than usual, because he went to the other side of the bar and stayed there.

16

Rugby mates at a strip bar.

Rob was sitting across the table from Dave. Rob reached over, and smashed a beer glass on Dave’s forehead. Dave did not appear to retaliate.

A few minutes later, Rob jumped up, complaining that someone was pissing on his leg. Dave smiled. Penis (literally) ensued.

Heather and Sylvia happened by, so Rob and Dave immediately forgot their battle and tore off the women’s shirts with their teeth.

In the general mêlée, a beer glass left a small scar on my forehead that I carry to this day.

Rob went home with Heather, I went home with Sylvia, and Dave was left empty handed, although another evening a few weeks later ended up with him passed out naked with his bright red dick painted with lipstick by a woman who was disappointed in his sexual performance, or lack thereof. Needless to say, we took photos. Dave is now a primary school teacher.

If you can’t win the game, win the party.

17

Ne’er a dull moment at the local Irish pubs, 'ats fer shore.

I remembered another one; not so much a jerk, but weird nonetheless.

Two friends and I were at the Pig & Whistle’s Wednesday night Pub Quiz. It’s ridiculously popular, and seating is at a premium. The three of us luckily got a table and were happily drinking and quizzing along, when this guy walks up to me and says, “Are you Tony?” I’m feeling friendly, so I say “No… Well, actually, if you happen to be here to give Tony several thousands dollars, then yes, I am Tony.”

I said I felt friendly, not funny.

So I’m thinking we all have a chuckle and we move on with our lives. Nope. He sits down with us and tries to shoehorn us into the group. We’re a little annoyed, since most of what we talk about is not the kind of stuff one wishes to discuss around strangers, so conversation kinda dies. He stays pretty quiet, tossing in a quiz answer here and there (mostly wrong), and eventually leaves after an hour or so, leaving us to look at each other with our best “what the purple hell was that about?” and “That’s guy knows you’re not actually Tony, right?” faces.

18

About a month back I was at a quasi-sports bar, dance club in the rougher part of town and had been talking to quite a few girls with varying sucess. Towards closing time a girl comes up next to me and we start talking and I offer her a drink. She asks for a tequila. No problem, she seems a little tipsy but nice enough. She has her drink, we talk a bit more and she says she’s going to go dance. I say cool, have fun and that I might come out there shortly, after I talk to a friend that I’m came with–she goes off to dance.

About 10 minutes later she comes back and stands next to me. A bouncer is following her from the dance floor and tells her in no uncertain terms that she has to leave. She says something to the bouncer and starts to walk away toward the door. I lean over and ask the bouncer what happened, he just glares at me and walks away. I’m like fine-- see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. I figure she must have done something pretty egregious but I have no idea what, I had only known her for twenty minutes and had no real emotional investment other than she seemed like a nice enough girl and that we had chatted a bit. I go and dance for a couple of tunes and the place announces that it’s closing time. Time to leave.

I walk out the front with my friend and there is tequila girl and a BBW that I had also chatted up earlier and they are in each others face, both drunk and yelling a lot of unintelligible things punctuated with Cunt! and Bitch! All of the bouncers are out there at this point and are like, “Get the hell out of here we don’t want a fight on our corner!”-- but they are all hanging back. The BBW has about three other friends with her and they are backing her up… it’s not looking good for tequila girl. I have no idea what events transpired to lead up to this, but I figure it had something to do with her getting kicked out earlier. Well, the inevitable happens and Tequila girl takes a swipe and BBW with the mean left-jab starts pounding the shit out of tiny tequila girl. They end up on the ground and Tequila girl is getting fucked up seriously. The bouncers weren’t doing anything, so I reached into the fray and swooped Tequila girl out, seperated them and said “Enoughs, enough, You better get the hell out of here!”. She’s bloodied and totally out of it, but still wants to fight.

At this point one of the 6’4 370lb. bouncers shoves Tequila girl about 10 feet back into a wall, telling her to get the fuck out of here. She ends up splayed out on the ground totally dazed. I walk over to her and offer her a hand up saying, “C’mon, you need to get the fuck out of here! I’ll give you a ride home, whatever you need, just come with me and let’s get you the fuck out of here!” She just looks at me blankly, pulls her hand away and starts to walk back towards the fight! Some other girl coming out of the club who had nothing to do with the fight takes a cheap shot and punches tequila girl in the face. I stepped in again and told cheap shot girl to back the fuck off and leave her alone, she did. But Tequila girl just kept walking back towards the fight… she wouldn’t take my help so I turned my back on the whole thing and decided to leave. Don’t know what happened after that…

I tried. I really tried to help her…but whattya gonna do?

19

What’s a BBW?

20

Oh yeah, I remembered my other one.

Bars are a bit scarce in my neighborhood, but luckily we make up for it in quality. Trad’r Sam’s is closest to my house, so I became quite the regular, as have many before me. There’s a few guys who are pretty much always there. Like, the bartenders (good ol’ Freddy) have their wine of choice waiting for them every evening.

So one of these regulars is always at his spot to the right of the bar, usually watching TV, standing. Normal enough early in the evening, but as he drinks more, he starts getting real weird. After a certain point, he starts talking. And talking. And talking. And talking. To no one at all. Lots of spittle flying about, too. I can never hear well enough to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. For the most part, he’s pretty harmless. He did grab my friend’s ass once, which was a bit of a surprise. I used to try to acknowledge him when it seemed like he might have been talking to me, but I learned that it really just doesn’t matter. I can sit next to him for hours at a time, never acknowledging him at all, and he just keeps on going.

He is kinda handy to have around, however. You know the saying, “if you act crazy, you’ll have lots of room on the bus”? Well, if you don’t mind crazy, you’ll always have a seat at the bar. :smiley: