When there’s booze in the mix, things can get rowdy quickly. Some patrons can hold their liquor, but others are better off drinking at home. Here, bartenders share outrageous stories about crazy occurrences at the watering hole.
All stories have been edited for clarity.
Don’t Leave Me
“Alcohol makes people do STUPID things.
I worked at a bar that was teeming with young people in their twenties almost every night. It was always crowded and wasn’t the best bar in the world, but it was fun to work there and everyone always had a blast.
I’ll never forget the one regular that blew my mind. I had known him for years and always had interesting conversations when he came to visit. He was a social drinker but never seemed to have much luck with the ladies.
During one of our conversations, it dawned on me just how desperate the guy was. He shared how he realized that married men got hit on more often than single men, so he was wearing a fake wedding band for the last week or two.
One night the regular was telling me about this girl he really liked, but he was having trouble asking her out. We had been chatting for a while before he told me to pause for a moment while he went to take a leak. As he was standing up to go to the restroom, a very attractive girl asked if he was leaving so she could have his stool.
His eyes lit up like a child in a candy store. The guy politely said he was not leaving, but gave her the stool. So for the next hour or two, he was talking to her and having a great time.
After about an hour, the guy managed to get another stool. I noticed how the guy kept fidgeting on the stool as if he couldn’t get comfortable. However, he was smiling and having a good time. He was blushing every time the girl laughed. I remember feeling happy for the guy because it seemed like he was finally getting lucky.
An hour before the last call, the girl’s friends showed up. The girl quickly got up and said she was going home. That’s when the regular looked at me pleadingly and asked for a round of drinks for everyone so they stay a bit longer.
One of the friends said, ‘That’s nice and all, but this bar smells.’ I assumed that she was talking about smoking because it was horrible and I couldn’t disagree.
As I went to make the drinks, I couldn’t help but notice how the regular refused to give his seat up for the other women that came over. He was normally quite the gentleman and always gave up his seat to women, but this time he would not even offer.
I picked up on how he was sitting in an odd way once again, but I was too busy to care all that much. I went back to working and tried to distract myself so the night would go faster.
A few minutes later, the girls left the regular sitting alone. He calmly asked for his check as he was rising from the stool. Suddenly the lights were turned up to kick everyone out because it was closing time.
The regular did an awkward waddle to the restroom as I was walking around the bar to start putting the stools up so the guys can mop. At first, I thought his butt had gone numb from sitting in the stool for so long.
That’s when I looked down and saw the giant puddle I stepped in.
The floor was sopping wet near the stool the regular was sitting on. The cushion was just as wet.
I sat there for what felt like ages trying to process what I was looking at. My first thought was that someone spilled a drink but it didn’t explain why the seat was clearly so damp. I looked up and saw the guy trying to leave out the back door which also isn’t uncommon but they were mopping there and turned him away.
What did strike me, was that the guy had his work coat wrapped around his waist with the sleeves tied up like a child. As he walked toward me, I saw his pants were drenched. He wouldn’t look me in the eye.
I stood there in total disbelief as he walked past me and grabbed the mop.
‘I was afraid if I got up and went to the restroom that she would leave,’ was all he said.
A man who would rather piss himself than take the chance of a potential partner leaving was the most desperate act I had ever seen.”
Caught Up In The Moment
“I was working my way through college as a bartender at this little Irish bar. The patrons were mostly regulars that ranged from judges and lawyers to the local farmers and mechanics. I actually enjoyed meeting such a diverse group of people and quickly made a lot of friends and good connections.
One Sunday night, a rowdy group of guys I had not seen before came in. It had been a slow night, so everyone had gone home except myself and the cook. I served the newcomers drink after drink. Each new drink only fueled their rowdiness.
Luckily, they were the only customers left in the bar. After some time passed, it was getting close to closing time and I couldn’t be happier to see them leave. I announced, ‘Last call,’ which let them know the bar was about to shut down for the evening.
The boys ordered their final round of drinks and went back to laughing and talking amongst themselves.
After I delivered their final drinks, they tried to get me to make another round. I refused and reminded them it was closing time. As soon as the words left my mouth, one of the men looked at me with an emotionless look in his eyes. I instantly knew something was off. Before I could react, the man whipped out a gun.
In a calm voice, the man told me to get them another round, or else. I was so scared I thought I would piss myself. My legs wobbled when I retreated to the bar and started another round. After making the drinks, I brought them over to the table. The men didn’t even go for the new round. Everyone had a crazed look in their eyes as they stared at me.
I was caught up like a deer in headlights. When the man saw I wasn’t moving, he held the gun next to my ear and fired. I yelped but my legs would not move. The man then said, ‘The next one is for you. Now get moving.’
Everything he said was with the eerie calmness of a true psychopath. I served these psychos drinks until 4:30 am that morning before they finally got bored and left.
I called the police and they were caught after a few days when they tried the same thing at a bar just down the road.
I realized just how vulnerable I was when working alone. The bar had emergency buttons installed and my manager hired a bouncer after the incident, but I had long determined the bartending life was not for me.”
Did I Really Just Say That?
“One night I was polishing glasses when I noticed a man burning holes into me with a psychotic gaze.
I was slightly caught off guard but forced a smile and asked, ‘What can I do for you, sir?’
To which he replied, ‘Where the hell is my server?’ I reeled at the overwhelming negative energy ruminating from the balding man in cargo shorts.
I blinked a few times and said, ‘Uhm… excuse me… I…’
But that was all I could manage before he blurted, ‘Where. The hell. Is my server?’ He paused on each word for dramatic effect.
I took a deep breath and thought, ‘This will be over soon. I’ll just play nice.’
‘I’m not sure, sir,’ I said through gritted teeth. Then I saw one of the waitresses emerge from the server station and flashed her a look that said, ‘Get over here. Now!’
Once she made her way over, the man tossed her card on the counter handed and said, ‘Can I pay for my food now or do I have to stand around and wait?’
He must have thought he was clever. As if some laugh track played in his otherwise empty skull every time some snide remark leaked from the crap hole seated where most people’s mouths would be.
The waitress took the card without saying anything and quickly ran back to accept his ever-so-gracious payment. It was at this point I noticed he had been mouth-breathing aggressively as he stood in the middle of the walkway. He didn’t even bother moving out of the way as people walked by.
Slightly irritated, I said, ‘Excuse me, sir? You can go back to your table while you wait for the check.’ There was no hiding the mock sincerity in my voice.
‘No, I won’t.’ The man snapped at me. ‘I’ll just wait for my check and not have some broad tell me what to do.’
An audible crack could be heard from inside my head.
The words jumped from my mouth before I had the chance to stop or change them. ‘You don’t have to be a prick about it.’ My eyes widened at my own words. The man gave me a look of pure shock but I continued. ‘You aren’t welcome back in this restaurant again.’
He opened his mouth to reply but decided not to because he stormed out.
Another customer shouted, ‘Go home, loser!’ As the rude man departed.
‘Thanks for leaving!’ Another customer shouted before the door shut behind him.”