There is no storyteller as good as a bouncer. They experience every type of person, and they are sober for it all. Much like the guy in the video,a bouncer will grow numb to the typical bullshit that would usually piss off the Average Joe. After watching this, it is clear that I have played the role of these patrons way too many times. Shit.
Again, bouncers tell the best stories. Here is an example:
The bar I work in is not a trashy joint. In general, our “regular” is a member of the middle to upper-middle class, and it’s not surprising to see professional athletes partying in the off-season from time to time within our four walls. I mention this because what I’m about to tell you friends is about the trashiest thing I’ve ever seen happen in a bar. Trashier than catching people having sex by a dumpster. Trashier than watching a girl throw up and then a guy make out with her right after she wipes her mouth. Trashier, even, than watching a middle-aged mother of two get finger-blasted at the corner of the bar by a kid on his twenty-first birthday. Yeah, it was that bad. So… where to start?
My bar has a pretty excellent security system. 30 plus cameras cover every inch of the place, inside and out. They don’t catch every facial expression, but if someone starts a fight, steals a phone, or snags a purse, you can bet the camera is good enough to see it. And we can review the footage right away, frame by frame, from every angle. People always seem so surprised when we catch them, too. “How’d you know?” they’ll ask me, and I just point up.
So there I was, that fateful Wednesday, reviewing the footage for what would be the greatest “who-dunnit” of my time. The dance floor was dark on tape, making it hard to discern what was going on. The only real illumination came sporadically as the club lights would flash here and there. You think you see what happens, and then you second guess yourself. Then you change your mind. Then you change it back. My mind draws parallels to the Zapruder JFK film. I’m zoomed in on a heavy woman in a black dress. She keeps moving back and to the left. Back and to the left. Back and to the left. She’s doing the Cupid Shuffle. Still, the slight change in the shadows when the club lights hit… It must be her. I know it’s her.
The dance floor empties in a panic on my film… Read More Here