“The Lady In White”…A Bouncers Story

Featured, Humor — February 2, 2013 at 2:02 am by

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.  It’s hard to watch, but I soldier on.  People are depending on me.  I rewind again.  I must be missing something.  I think of the Patterson Bigfoot film.  There’s a woman in a white top and white shorts on my screen.  She walks across the dance floor, swinging her arms wide.  She passes the heavy woman in the black dress.  She looks back.


I zoom in.  I rewind.  The shadows change.  Could this be her?  I play it back.  I notice the woman in white alters her course to walk directly next to the woman in black.  And then it happens.  I see it.  It’s there.  The woman in white.  It was actually her all along.  She altered her course to drop the evidence next to the woman in black. I had her.  I walked out of the security room triumphant, making my way towards where the woman in white was sitting.  The smell of victory lingered in the air.  Our eyes met as I approached.  She knew she’d been caught, but still she played coy.

“Ma’am, it’s time for you to leave.” I said.

“Me?  Really?  Why?”  she said in reply.  Is this bitch serious?

“Ma’am, there’s two ways this happens.  The way where you get up and leave right now, or the way where everyone in this bar finds out that it was you who shit your pants on the dance floor. Your move.” She got up and left the building, but her stench remained for another half hour or so.  I didn’t mind, though.  Smelled like justice to me.





  1. lady in stained white dress is more like it

  2. To be specific… they were shorts. How the poop navigated out has confounded me to this day.

  3. What’s the world coming to when you can’t take a shit on the dance floor. It’s a shame

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