The Unruly

The Berlin Wall

from the West Side

The Unruly

by

B.D. Adams

©2012

           When I was at the age of thirty-something ... life was fun! I was an accomplished photographer, decent looking for a woman of my age, had good friends ... even a few photo groupies.
           The friends I had were the ones I could party with in a bar and not worry that one of them would become ... unruly. Others needed to realize that TGIF was too important to have it ruined!!

             This had been a brutal work week for me and my friends! My best friend, Mary, had called around noon-ish, this Friday, to warn me that I should be ready for TGIF no later than 7:00pm!! She already had a designated-driver selected ... a co-worker of hers (someone new to me) and didn’t drink. How nice for those of us who did.

            Friday night in Columbus, Ohio!!! A warm summer night. Time to let down our hair! Time to throw back a few because of the hellacious week!! A rough week!

            At seven-thirty (once everyone was gathered – equal number of girls to boys), the six of us entered the Night Club and Sid, who checked IDs at the door (one of the owners/managers), greeted us in his usual way with a big smile. He liked us because we were not trouble-makers.

            We all sat at what had become “our table” ... not far from the dance floor or the band, but not that close, either. We could still talk, albeit loudly, when the band played.

Because I was with my pals, I didn’t even care if I met a guy tonight ... single that I was. Mary didn’t have her on-again-off-again boyfriend. Tonight, he was off-again.

It wasn’t time for the band, so the conversation went unhurried, more relaxed. The jukebox played the classic Rock-n-Roll tunes, as we drank our first drinks and munched down the boneless, Buffalo wings, which was their kitchen’s specialty, and their over-stuffed potato-skins. This was not the time to think about cholesterol or calories!! Comfort food ... that was the best description.

We weren’t watching any clock, but we were so ready for the band to crank up!! This band played R&B style with trumpets, slide-trombones, saxophones ... music for the soul!

Mary and I sat on the same side of the table, just to watch and listen to the band.

I had had only two St. Pauli Girl beers (German beer), but Mary was ahead of me by a couple more. As it was, we felt pretty good. Good beer, good food, good friends ... what could go wrong?!

Well, as Mary and I were in our “TGIF” state of mind, Mary began to notice a commotion at the door. She poked my arm to get my attention. As she pointed, I watched.

Three people had entered the Club. It looked like Sid had an “unruly” patron, a white fellow with his date, who seemed to have an issue with a black fellow in line before them. Evidently, the white couple felt the black fellow had cut in line ahead of them! (This was not one of those ritzy clubs like in Manhattan.)  Or, perhaps he got the last, close parking space on the street to the Club.

Sid managed to calm the situation, however, once inside the Club, the white guy began, again, to pick at the black fellow. The white couple followed him to stand at the long bar, which was to the right of the stage. There was still a lot of aggression being generated by all in question! The black fellow, however, was quieter than the white couple. A fight would ensue, if the white guy didn’t cool his jets! Sid made sure their first drinks were “on the house!” Probably not a good idea, but it was his decision.

Let me better describe the situation. The black fellow was a taller, muscular fellow, than the white guy, with a shaved head and arms that said, “I pump iron!!” The white guy was a bit shorter, rather thin, had a full head of hair, but with arms that said, “I pump numbers!” Like a guy who worked a calculator and lived vicariously through the “Rocky” movies.

If a fight broke out, you could make bet on who would win?

Mary and I didn’t want to have our evening ruined, so Mary asked of me, “Wanna break up a fight?” Our friends watched surprised, as we left them in a rush.

I had never done anything like this before ... I thought I would just back-up Mary ... like yell for help!! Mary was a bit taller than me and lanky. She had been a security guard at one of the malls before she got her current office job. It looked like she was still able to spot trouble.

I was shorter, a bit wiry, and loved TV Cop Shows. So, I thought about “Nash Bridges” or “NYPD Blue.”

We didn’t have a plan ... hadn’t said anything to each other ... just went into action! However, we must have had the same idea because we went directly to a table-video game right beside the people that made the brew-ha-ha.

“Do you know how to play this game?” Mary asked loudly to me.

“Gee, no,” I answered as loudly, “Don’t you?”

Mary immediately went to the black fellow and asked if he knew how to play.

As the black fellow moved to help Mary and me, the white guy grabbed the black fellow’s arm! To control! To square off!!

No thoughts about what came next!! Mary and I (our backs to each other) got between the two men! What were they going to do ... hit a couple of girls?! She was with the black fellow ... I was with the white guy!!

The white guy really wanted to fight the bigger man!! Physically, he was a smaller man and a rude, stupid fool on top of it!

The girlfriend wasn’t as verbal as her boyfriend, but she didn’t seem to want to discourage her boyfriend ... get him to behave.

“Hey, man ... do you like this music? Great band!!” I tried to calm the white guy!

“Get outta my face, bitch!” he blurted to me. (There was other nastiness, but I will keep this story PG-13 Rated.) He spurned my attempt to be “nice.” I kind of decided he was rude because my boobs weren’t as big as his girlfriend’s, nor did I have the same “equipment” as he.

Mary had the big fellow under control while the little twerp continued to spout his venom to where they stood.

I decided that I would play the “Sex/Trump Card” with the girlfriend. I could not believe she would want to spend the rest of her evening in the Emergency Room, as the doctors realigned her boyfriend’s jaw and set his broken arm and taped up his ribs. Nor, would she want to bail him out of jail!

Purposely, but calmly, I walked to her side (other patrons at the bar had moved away when this started). She was drunk, or stoned, but I so hoped she had a couple of brain cells that would register the situation and what I said.

“I don’t know you or your boyfriend ....” I began, with a determined tone.

“Whatcha doin’, bitch!” the girl snapped.

“Don’t know the black guy, either,” I firmly said. The girl wanted to fight me, but I spoke again, “Look at the guy your boyfriend wants to fight. Just look at him.”

The girl looked past her boyfriend, which told me she was listening, “Yeah ... so.” She had a snotty attitude.

“Look at your boyfriend. A handsome guy,” I lied like a rug, “How long do you think it will take for his nose to heal after he breaks it on that guy’s fist?”

She was listening and wanted to defend her lover, but I continued, “Now, I can tell he is a real man, not a wimp, but ... just but ... do you really want to be with him in the hospital all night and, maybe through tomorrow ... or longer?” I paused to let her digest my words, and then suggested, “See that empty table over there? You should suggest, in the sexiest way you can, that you want him to sit with you. Start kissing on him and tell him how strong he is and how much you love him ... to have a good night. What do you think?” I made eye contact to emphasize my meaning.

Well, I decided I did what I could. I left her to think about what I said. Mary and the black fellow had moved down the bar, so I went to them.

“How’d that go?” Mary queried of me.

“We’ll see, I guess,” I answered quietly. Mary introduced me to Tyrone, the black fellow. I never asked the white guy or the girlfriend for their names.

After a short while, I noticed the white guy and the girlfriend had sat at that table. She looked to me and I nodded to her. Her eyes said to me that she did not want my nasty scenario. I was so glad!

Tyrone did not sit with us at our table. His friends arrived ... two white fellows with arms as big as Tyrone’s ... “birds of a feather.” The white couple left the Night Club not long after with no further nastiness.

Now, there was only the music, our friends, and Sid, who repeatedly thanked us and wanted to know if we were policewomen. We assured that we were not Cops, just patrons who didn’t want this evening ruined by an unruly jerk!

The rest of our St. Pauli Girl beers were free that night. How nice!

(P.S. .... This is a real event as I have written it. Only one time, never to be repeated! I could be an adventurist, but not a fool to tempt fate twice. Thanks for reading! B.D. Adams )