The old adage, “if you can’t say anything nice …” never made its way to most of my bar’s patrons.

And the truth is, if you cannot say anything nice, the remedy isn’t to not say anything at all. You’re supposed to bottle it up before you start a rage thread on Twitter like everyone else.

On the not-so-rare occasion that you’re standing outside the bar at 1:30 a.m. and your phone is dead, you may accidentally say something you’ll regret.

Or say something you don’t regret, which just makes you an asshole.

And like opinions, there are plenty of those in the world.

For the Love of God, Shut Your Mouth

The following are real quotes heard over the last two weekends with some explanations, preambles and side notes.

“Sir, we feel that you’re too intoxicated and will no longer be served today.”

I’m too constipated?

Two girls smell a guy leaving the bar. He tries a pick-up line. It fails, miserably.

Smooth move Axe-lax

Woman gets her friend’s ID confiscated. She’s livid despite giving the wrong age.

I’m a criminal justice major and what you’re doing is wrong.

A woman is being carried by two friends on either side. We turn her away. Her BFF comes to her defense, sort of.

Is it because she’s ugly?

Is it because she’s white?

This dude is racist against white people. You’re a whitist.

A woman wearing a reindeer onesie illegally uses the men’s restroom during a bar crawl. Yes, even in 2018 it’s still illegal to use the “wrong bathroom.” Our bar’s bathrooms are specifically marked male and female, and have no locks on the outer doors. This is the only scenario where it would be acceptable: a) there is no separate employee bathroom, AND b) there are two or more employees in the establishment, AND c) the manager or plurality of employees approve of its use, AND d) it’s for an emergency medical need. If all of that happens, then yes, a man or a woman may use the other gender’s bathroom, provided all other patrons are cleared out of said bathroom. Using it because there’s a long line does not qualify. And then getting mad about it is also dumb. The woman claimed she was harassed in the men’s room and that something else happened.

I couldn’t get out of the stall because I was locked in.

As everyone knows, stall doors lock from the inside.

A man is openly drinking a beer in the line. By definition, he is intoxicated and therefore should not be allowed into a bar to drink.

That’s not mine. And even if it was mine, I finished it.

He went so far as to take off his bright green jacket. At no point did he move from the line while his bright green jacket was draped over his shoulder.

It wasn’t me. I don’t know who you’re talking about.

A foursome of wannabe bad-asses are bad news. On tried to smuggle a Redd’s Apple Ale bottle into the bar. Another made eye contact with me as she tucked a tallboy Miller Lite in her yoga pants. A third got kicked out for being too intoxicated. And the last one, despite not sporting the haircut, asked to see the manager. Haircut misheard a drunk guy outside call someone a retard. Apologies for the use, but I’m a journalist and this is the story. Haircut thought she was being called a retard and took offense, as most people would.

I’m NOT a retard. That’s offensive and I should know because my cousin is retarded.

I gently walk behind a man who was cut off from the bar. He gets wise to what I was doing in the final five feet. He turns around, looks me up and down,

I would take you in the joint.

He continued down the street shouting

30 PULL UPS.

30 PULL UPS.

WHAT YOU GOT?

IT AIN’T 30 PULL UPS.

You hear words like toxic masculinity and white privilege all the time. It turns out, the Venn Diagram intersection is quite large.

Fuck you! And Fuck your mom!

Whoa. Me, I get. I’m an easy target. But my mom? He’s lucky I’m only a giant because my mom would fuck him up like Douglas on Tyson. There’s only one person I’m afraid of and White Boy Rick launched an ICBM with a nuclear payload of douchebaggery in her direction.

Speaking of being a giant, I’m often ethnically misplaced by bar-goers. To state my case, I’m part Polish (5/8), Irish (1/4), and Native American (1/8). I am not, however, these:

Yeah, get that Russian plank out of my face.

Goddamn Bosnian lookin’ motherfucker.

Haha, Jew nose. What are you gonna do?

Porky over here gets it. You got that Baby Shark fin do-doo-do-do-doo-do-doo.

OK, the Baby Shark one was pretty funny.