My First Bar Brawl
Losing my bar fight virginity was like losing my real virginity. It was fast, confusing, and I probably wasn’t doing it right.
Thanksgiving break. All my high school friends are just arriving in town. We meet at at a nice pub. I was drinking a beer called skullsplitter that is 8.5 percent alcohol and costs 5 dollars. Seemed like a solid alcohol to price ratio. Around midnight we were told to leave because a friend brought Four Lokos into the bar and passed them around. Four loko is a much better alcohol to price ratio, plus taurine.
Four of us decide the night is still young and walk to a dive bar called the ‘rusty hook.’ It’s empty with dumb decorations of highway signs and local sports banners. Some bikers were smoking at a dimly lit table, a thirty something couple was shooting pool, and two mediocre looking blonde girls were huddled over a screen playing bar video games.
I was seeing octagon vision and still the most sober of my friends.
One friend orders two double whiskeys. The bartender says all the drinks are doubles. This upsets my friend. He takes it as a personal challenge to his masculinity and yells: “two quadruple whiskeys.” The bartender hesitated and proceeded to pour half a bottle of Wild Turkey 101 into two glasses. I passed one to my large, very drunk friend. He’s half Native American and can drink like a banshee. He pauses and examines the drink. He then downs the whole thing in one swift gulp and slams the empty glass onto the bar shattering it to pieces. He hiccups. The bartender is upset and starts yelling things. My now semiconscious friend is not listening but swooning. Standing still had become difficult. The bartender is saying things like: “Get the fuck out. Now!”
I grab the other quadruple whiskey and took a healthy gulp.
Furious at my friend, the angry bartender jumps the bar. This was a pretty impressive display of athleticism for a 6’2 260 pound bald man. My large drunk friend is about his size but at a serious disadvantage because he is currently unaware of who or where he is. The bartender pushes him. He stumbles, regains composure, and resumes swooning. His chin is resting against his chest and he looks on the verge of complete mental and physical collapse. The bartender continues pushing him. The friend that ordered the damn drinks slams himself between big friend and big bartender. Another bartender follows. New bartender has a ponytail and looks like he lifts weights and listens to death metal. Not good news. Third friend is playing cutthroat with the middle age couple, pretending like this isn’t happening.
The scene begins to resemble a rugby scrum. No one was really throwing punches. Just drunkenly mauling each other.
Should I hit them with a pool stick? I looked at the bikers. If I went all WWE they may intervene and beat me with metal chains, knives, or something more foul. I abandon the pool stick theory and decide to just charge the pile. I run into the side of the bald bartender disengaging him from drunk friend and slightly moving his massive body. Drunk friend begins to show flashes of consciousness. He unloads wild haymakers on ponytail bartender who is grappling with other friend. Bald bartender is unconcerned with me and still trying to force drunk friend out the door. Confused, I jump on bald bartender’s back and try to wedge my arm around his fat sweaty neck. Rear naked choke or something. This was unsuccessful. From a distance it must of looked like this large man, easily twice my size, was giving me a friendly piggy back ride. He manages to knock large drunk friend to the ground. I’m draped across his back, reminiscent of the scene in Jurassic Park when the raptors jump all over the big T-Rex. He struggles trying to remove me and we both go crashing to the floor. This collision knocks other friend and metal bartender off balance and sends the remainder of the quadrupole whiskey into the air. Wild turkey rains down on everyone. A big whiskey drenched man pile. Someone hits me in the face with an elbow.
Third friend finally arrives. He breaks it up and pushes me outside. I thought this was a good idea. Other friend comes outside and takes off his whiskey soaked shirt off. He starts yelling and demands to continue fighting. Drunk friend is still on the ground looking rather comfortable. Middle aged couple abandons the pool table and comes outside to mediate. They buffer us from the bartenders and try to calm shirtless friend down. Shirtless friend accuses them of being in league with the bartenders. They assure him this isn’t the case. He continues the accusations. They block him from returning inside. He spins around, juking them out of their middle aged shoes, and rushes behind the bar. He shoves fat bald bartender. Fat bartender shoves back. They yell at each other. Middle aged couple and third friend manage to get shirtless friend back outside.
Now is definitely time to go.
In the morning neither shirtless friend nor large friend remember the incident. Shirtless friend woke up on his couch, shirtless, covered in chicken nuggets and large friend woke up in a puddle of his own urine.
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