Monday, November 24, 2008


I let the Guido stay and I threw out the foreigner.

Here is what happened: I saw an argument taking shape right in front of me between a large steroidal Guido and a strange looking swarthy guy who was waving his arms in way that simply didn’t look right. I asked the Guido why this was happening, and he gave me the typical laundry list of Guido nonsense that Guidos always invoke during fights. I won’t go into the specifics of the nonsense in question because it’s all been documented here before. Check the archives.

Suffice it to say that nobody in the history of mankind has ever been bigger, badder, tougher or more dangerous than this particular Guido. I pondered things for a moment, then quickly discarded this revelation and left him in the custody of some of the other bouncers who’d run to the scene.

The first thing the strange looking, arm-waving swarthy guy did was touch me, which is poor form. He was also a close talker with horrible breath. This gave him no chance from the get-go. I wanted to assault him with a chainsaw. I wanted to bring back “Chainsaw Thursdays,” which was a concept night I developed and tried to introduce in West Chelsea a few years back. Arming bouncers with chainsaws would make life golden.

The strange looking, arm-waving swarthy guy had an accent I couldn’t place. He seemed incapable of telling me his side of the story, and I couldn’t stop thinking about chainsaws. Things were bad, for sure.

“Blah, blah, blah, blah, and...uh...blah, blah, you say?...blah, blah, blah.”

The three people with him – two girls and another strange looking swarthy guy – also spoke with irritating accents. They, too, were incapable of explaining the situation to me without the handsy grabbing and the close talking and the bad breath and the vaguely Slavic creepyness that induced the thoughts of the chainsaw and the chopping.

I went back to the Guido and said, “I don’t know what happened, but you’re making sense and this guy’s not, so I’m throwing him out and you’re staying.”

“Yeah, muthafucka, you got...”

“No,” I interrupted. “Listen to me. You’re staying because I don’t need the fucking hassle of throwing two groups out of here right now when there hasn’t even been a fight yet. He’s leaving because he’s an annoying motherfucker who’s not making any sense. But if you say one thing to anyone while we’re taking them out, you’re all fucking gone.”

Then I threw the creepy, close-talking, handsy weird guy out and told him to shut the fuck up because I’ve heard it all before a million times.

As he walked away he waved money at me. I went back inside and drank tea.