If you enjoy being brutalized by knuckle-dragging neanderthals posing as security guards, I can recommend no better place in Los Angeles than Bar Sinister (at Boardner’s, Saturday nights). It’s amazing how quickly a great night out with a bunch of friends can degenerate into an absolute crap tornado when a few oversized, overenfranchised, power-abusing no-necks intervene.
My advice to such schmucktwirls:
Picking fights with patrons is no way to invite return service to your club. When it’s closing time, tell people it’s closing time, not, “you’ve had too much to drink; you’re going to have to leave.” Especially when the people you’re singling out have been very careful to drink responsibly all evening long and aren’t causing problems for anyone. It’s insulting, and it reflects poorly on your judgment. I’m not the only nearly-totally-sober person you approached with this line that night. Refusing to allow me to make sure the tab at the bar had been taken care of wasn’t a smart move, either.
But what it really boils down to is this: You don’t grab me or my friends, and I won’t bite a chunk out of your arm until you bleed and scream like a junior high school girl. I think that’s a pretty reasonable policy — too bad you didn’t.
Protests over my only valid method of dealing with a guy four times my size were best answered by my lovely girlfriend, who said: “You’re at a goth club, dummy.”