When I go out to bars with people, I take cigarette breaks. I don’t smoke, but I like to go outside with my friends when they do. I don’t know why I’m like this, but I’ve been taking smoke breaks ever since the smoking bans went into effect all over the country. I’ve taken smokeless cigarette breaks in multiple states.
I enjoy doing this. A cigarette break is where my friend Brendan asked me to be in his wedding party. This was a surprise. It was also a very good wedding because I danced. I didn’t know I could dance, but I went out on the dance floor with Clint’s then-girlfriend and imitated everything I saw the Guidos doing at the club. I have this on video. I did some kind of walking catcher’s-crouch thing with the Divorced Guy’s then-wife. This may be why they’re divorced. Probably, to him, she’s permanently fouled.
Last week, I was taking one of my non-smoking cigarette breaks when three guys walked out of the bar screaming at a girl. We were off to the left of the door, which is where cigarette breaks should take place. If you smoke directly in front of the door, you’re an asshole and you need to be punched in the throat. All the action was on the opposite side.
“Shut the fuck up, you fucking c—-t!” one guy shouted. “You’re a fucking c—-t!”
A guy who was smoking near us ran over and punched the guy in the face. Hard. I mean, he knocked him out. The poor bastard was stiff before he hit the sidewalk. Turns out the girl was with him.
The other two guys jumped on him. There was a girl with these guys, and she jumped in, too. The boyfriend had one guy in a solid chokehold, and he was elbowing the other guy in the face. The girlfriend threw the attacking girl face-first into a brick wall. It was intense. They’d yelled at the wrong girl, for sure. This guy knew what he was doing.
We all ran over to even things out a little and break it up. When everyone was separated and standing, the boyfriend – the puncher – held up his arm and said, rather bemusedly, “He bit me! The fucker bit me!”
He had a giant bite mark on his forearm. It was all shiny and disgusting, like freshly tattooed skin. I hope the biter wasn’t rabid, but you can never tell these days.