There are stories we tell to one-up each other, and then there is this blog. Read wondrous tales of strange creatures, explore the depths of human indecency, and hopefully laugh a little as we find out what could possibly make people do what they do.
All tagged Bouncer
Next week I'm going for the Freshman 15. Fifteen IDs - including eight in one night - to break my daily and weekend record with the new crop of college kids thinking we're the easy bar.
"What did we do?" Is one of my favorite responses someone says to me after being caught with a fake. It screams privilege.
I'm not sold on getting another cake for 200. Frankly, my body doesn't need it and there was so much left over. Any suggestions?
I've been asked this question more often than height or shoe size in the last few weeks. And it's getting old. Why do I wear the gloves? Because y'all are nasty.
Meeting new people is easy, making the first impression is hard. It's even harder when the person initiating that first impression is three sheets to the wind and won't get a second chance.
Words to the wise. If you are using an ID that isn't yours, pay attention to where the city is, especially if the state is shaped like a mitten.
I'm a hair over one-quarter of the way to another cake. I have sniffed out 126 fake IDs since mid-August, an average of 14 per month.
Special bonus edition of Big Bad Jon's bouncer anthology because I didn't want to ramble on for 3,000 words on a Monday night.
A 53-year-old woman tried to bring her underage son into my bar She brought the wrong squad.
After tales of baldness, full moons, fun facts, perceived racism, muscle hamsters, excuses piled high, cascading carbs and a Sunday surprise, I present to you the first and only fake ID sonnet.
Two hours into my Sunday shift, a shift where I wasn't on the schedule and there was little reason for me to stay beyond 11 p.m., I went outside for some fresh, springtime air.
It's always fun to be on the right side of history - no matter how trivial certain situations may seem in the long run.
