The away game weekend was definitely a welcome relief to those of us working downtown. We didn't have to put up with a gigantic crowd, hordes of hammered-beyond-belief drunk kids, 12 hour shifts, and constant yelling and screaming in the name of football.
Don't get me wrong. I love football. I love game days. But it's nice to have a break.
The flipside of this, on the other hand, is that away game weekends are constantly "locals nights". This is when the kids from the surrounding counties decide to take advantage of the lack of college kids in town and go out and do some drinkin'. If you say that sentence in a really country accent, then it sounds a lot funnier. At least, it did in my head when I wrote it.
The bad part about this is that a majority of these kids are something we'll call less than desirable. Get about a dozen budweisers in them and they're a fucking nightmare to babysit. Get five or six of them in the bar and my otherwise relaxing weekend suddenly becomes a huge pain in the ass. I won't even go into the fact that these slow weekend aren't exactly making anyone rich, including myself, so essentially I'm dealing with these rednecks-gone-wild for less than I'd normally be making on a busy weekend.
And that's what I got to do this weekend.
Friday was relatively slow - I escorted out some girls for passing back IDs directly in front of me after they walked in, but that was about it. They were hot too, so I felt a twinge of guilt but it sure would be nice if these underaged kids put a little more effort into trying to sneak in the bar. Somebody give me a challenge!
Saturday is when the locals came out. I started off by kicking a few of them out before they had taken more than two steps inside the bar. Apparently mouthing off is not something their mothers told them not to do when they were being raised.
Later in the night, I made the joyful discovery of the use of illegal controlled substances in the bathroom by several others members from the same group of kids that I had kicked out earlier. After emptying his pockets into the toilet and making him flush it all, I reminded him where the door was. The worst part about it was the fact that he stunk up the entire bar. So, our efforts to make the place seem like a halfway decent bar were horribly thwarted because some shithead redneck couldn't wait to smoke a blunt. I swear I got a contact high just from being exposed to the shit.
I'm not a big fan of drugs. Never have been. My tolerance for it is at absolutely zero, honestly. I don't feel comfortable around people who are using drugs, and if I find you doing drugs in the bathroom at the bar, you should feel lucky if the only thing I do is make you empty your pockets and flush it all away. That's your best case scenario. Worst case scenario: I'll detain you and go find a cop who wants to make a felony arrest and take you and your cocaine away. It's normally coke or weed that I'll bust people with, but I've gotten more than my fair share of kids arrested who give me an attitude when I catch them trying to snort a bunch of shit up their nose.
On the rare occasion I'll find people snorting crushed up pills or, in a handful of cases, meth. Drug transactions happen all the time downtown, and the drug dealers are constantly out. I happen to work at a few places that have a zero tolerance policy for drugs, and we've made a lot of headway in keeping out the drug users and especially dealers. Not every place is like that, though. There are bars who tolerate users and dealers - if you know anything about downtown, you'll know the places I'm talking about - and nothing kills my buzz faster when I'm out drinking than feeling like the drug dealer in the booth across from me is going to pull out a pistol and rob me at some point.
All to say, I have a serious distaste for drug users, and that ended that particular rednecks night earlier than I'm sure he expected. Later in the night, I found the remaining girls that hadn't been escorted out trying to sneak into the guys bathroom because "the line for the girls room was too long". They were the kind of classy, redneck, trailer trash girls that every bar employee wants in their bar. A short conversation and a few smartass remarks in my direction found me marching the girls out to join the rest of their friends out on the sidewalk.
Did I mention it was one of the girls 21st birthdays? Well it was. And I made sure to wish her a happy birthday after I kicked her out.
Yea. I'm an asshole.