Posted by: blogone | March 3, 2006

A sock full of door knobs…

Ash Wednesday. I’m sitting on the balcony outside the apartment. It faces out onto 6th Avenue in San Diego. It's been cooler the last few days, still warm but you would wear a jacket to go out and about. Our neighbour Steve hangs a US flag off the balcony every day. He tells me that he puts it between 4.30am and 5:00am every day and takes it in at 16:30 every day. I asked one day why 04:30? He told me that his cat Maggie wakes him up at that time, so he gets up and puts it out. He doesn't go back to bed, instead he starts to cook food or potter around the apartment; his not ours.

Yesterday was Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras depending on how you want to say it. I worked at The Field. The security quartet consisted of Steve, Jersey, Shane and myself. Normally there are only two security people on, however they expected more people because of the occasion, so the plan was to have two people checking IDs at the door and two walking about inside the bar. I worked the door at the start of the night, however I had to give up my position because I was 'new guy', so it was up to Shane and I to work inside. The first thing I noticed about Shane was that he could be related to my friend Shane from Dublin. I was a little taken back when I met him, same size, same walk, same overall look even the same name, what are the odds? Anyone?

My hope of being inconspicuous in the bar disappeared when I got my yellow security jacket with 'SECURITY' in large letters on the back and smaller on the front. Still if anything was to go wrong I would be able to find the other guys easy enough, unless I got pepper spray in the eyes or kicked in the face and dragged around like a rag doll.

The manger told me that if any girls started flashing I should ask them to leave. I honestly tried to keep a straight face. I imagined the conversation

Me: Excuse me, can you put those away and now I have to ask you to leave.

Hot Girl: Why?

Me: Because you are flashing.

Hot Girl: Its Mardi Gras, this happens.

Me: I know, so please put them away and let's go.

Anyway the night was a boobless encounter. The whole evening passed without any significant incidents. Some people with too much to drink who had to go etc. No puke to clean up which was nice.

I decided earlier on in the day that I was not going to be a stereotypical bouncer in a bar. I decided to find a balance, somewhere between Patrick Swayze in Road House, Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard and Steven Segal in anything. I think it worked okay for me, I gave some polite but stern (K.C) looks to some people and warm with a hint of understanding (P.S) and if you mess with me I'll crack your head with a sock full of pool balls (S.S) to different groups of people depending on my mood.

It was fairly hot in my yellow jacket; I think I lost a couple of pounds in sweat. I had to change kegs and take out the trash, and clean up the bar at the end of the night. I think I worked fairly hard and pretty much enjoyed it. I got $10 dollars an hour for my efforts. At the end of the evening the bar manager was leaving and said to me "thanks for your help Andrew". "Andrew indeed", I was going to give him my Steven Segal look, but opted for my polite yet stern KC look instead.


Our neighbour Steve

Name: Steve Martin

Age: around 63

Likes: Getting up early, his cat Maggie, cooking and telling me stuff.

Dislikes: the person who lives above us.

Who is Maggie?

Steve's Cat.

Age: around 8

Likes: Sitting in a brown paper bag. Waking Steve up at 4.30am

Dislikes: Moving around or leaving the brown bag. Steve sleeping in.






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