Have you ever had a Budweiser-soaked Indian lunge at you, slurring some sort of angry, unintelligible language? If not, you have never liv- I mean bartended in Ruidoso, New Mexico. Tonight was my night to experince this phenomenon.
Tonight was also the night for my boss to be my bouncer, since my normal bouncer was at his wedding reception... on a Tuesday. Fast forward seven hours into the night, I'm out of Sapphire gin, ice, a plethora of other crap, and the bossman is nowhere to be found. "Why," you may ask, "was he not downstairs making sure all was well in the drunken idiot world?" I'll tell you why... he was drunk. I love this bar. It was SO much fun to be on the drunken side of the bar, and even though it's not always fun to be on the bartending side, it almost always gets interesting.
Anyways, I won't bad-mouth the bossman because he really didn't do anything wrong (besides leave me downstairs with a bunch of douchebags*). He also encouraged ME to drink on the job... SUCH a good idea when you tend bar. It really helps with the whole dealing-with-drunk-assholes-who-you-would-never-talk-to-otherwise aspect of the job. So I had a little bit of a dirty martini I made (and made very well, thank you) and was good to go until the drunk Mescalero lunged at me and his 5'4'', 250-pound ladyfriend (and that's a kind physical estimation) had to stop him from assaulting me. Good times.
*I partially blame myself for people thinking I can handle myself against armies of drunk (and often coked-up) patrons... I am sort of a B.