Tales From the Gay Bar – “The Hens From Hell” or “My First Official Complaint”

Posted: September 28, 2013 in TFTGB
Tags: , , , , , ,

It was the day the summer died and autumn came to town.

I had forgotten all about this incident, so many crazy things happen here every day that it takes a lot for an episode to stick out. I only remembered because I took a short break the other day and went for a walk along the river to clear my mind. It started raining as it will in Denmark when it’s September, the leaves were rustling and the river was joyfully clucking and bubbling along and a smell hit my nostrils. I’ve always, ever since I was a small child, thought I could sense the exact day the seasons changed. There’s this feeling I get like time is swirling around me and making me dizzy, my senses seem to go into overdrive and I feel one season dying and the next taking it’s place. It’s probably silly, but I still feel it to this day. Four times a year I sense the change and it’s a rush like no other.

At that exact moment, as I was standing on the soft bank and looking up into the grey sky, I felt it. The seasons changed and I remembered the day that happened last year and I remembered the story I’m about to share.

It was the day the summer died and autumn came to town and I had been forced to do something I didn’t want to. Owen and Eugene (the owners of the bar) had called me a week before and told me they had an old friend who was getting married. Her friends were planning her hen night (bachelorette party for the Cadillac producers, polterabend for quite a few European countries including Denmark and Germany) and they wanted to come by the gay bar and have some drinks and the bride bartend for an hour or so. Fun!

I said no.

Not that I am opposed to fun, I like fun. I have had fun on numerous occasions. I am, as the kids say, down with fun. What I am not down with, is unskilled people behind the bar as a gimmick. Every time there’s an election, some bonehead politician invades my bar as a “guest-bartender” for a night to show all the gays how much they care about them and their problems. It definitely has an impact on the votes, at least for me, I go out of my way NOT to vote for them just because of the cheap ass bootlicking they try to give the community.

This was, of course, different, this was not an attempt to bond with the LGBT community in town, this was just for a bit of fun. Good, great, let them have their fun somewhere else. A guest-bartender does three things: 1. Get in the way, 2. Fuck up orders, 3. Piss me off. I would have none of it.

I was shot down, it would happen whether I liked it or not. And, as Owen said, “that was the end of that!”

So there I was, standing on the corpse of summer and watching 10 straight girls waltz in the bar. (Side note: I have nothing against straight girls, some of my best friends are straight girls, and here comes the inevitable but; but these were the woo kind of girls. I believe I have written about them before yes?) They were already pretty sodden and then the girl in charge squealed “TIME FOR SHOTS BITCHES!”

I am not a religious person, in fact I’m an atheist, but five words ran through my mind at this moment. They were not really fit for an atheist, but I cannot lie (I totally can, do it all the time, but in this instance I won’t, trust me). The five words were “Dear Lord, save me now!” He didn’t, which firmly sent me back to my atheist ways. The hens all flocked to the bar and started downing shots like they’d just found an oasis in Sahara. The lady soon-to-be-in-white was pushed behind the bar by her posse. There was much giggling and whistling and then they all ordered cosmos. Naturally this bint-in-a-veil didn’t know her arse from a bottle opener, so she just stood there awkwardly while I made 9 cosmos (and I hate making cosmos). Most of the straight squad moved outside to smoke and bitch at something or someone. I put the blushing “virgin” in charge of opening bottles. That’s right, I might be stuck with this simpering waste of space, but that didn’t mean she got to have fun. So when I sold someone a beer or soda I would ring it up while I pointed out the appropriate bottles and she would take them out of the fridge and open them, she might even be allowed to put them in front of the customer. That was her big bar-experience.

While we were just having the time of our lives behind the bar the bands of bitches were up to their own brand of fun. They were making out and saying things like “Ohmigod, so gross!”, “So gay!” and “I’ve never done anything like this before!” Yah right…..

After this exhibition of inebriation’s influence on inhibitions, it was time for the ritual sacrifice of an innocent bystander. A sweet young lesbian tried flirting with one of them. Bad move. Once they realized they went completely on the offensive. They started calling her nasty things, they went on to screaming at her to fuck off and never come near them again. This was where I stepped in. I told them, very calmly, that this was a gay bar and when they were in here they had to live with the fact that another woman might hit on them. They would be wise to handle it nice and politely. Their focus shifted from the poor civilian to me. They were hollering and screaming the stupidest things like “nasty little dyke”, “fuck off” and “who do you think you are bitch?”

Oh this was good! Looked like I would get my way anyway. I was smiling from ear to ear, grinning like a fucking maniac, that shut them up. They looked like they didn’t know what to do with themselves. I didn’t matter; I knew exactly what to do with them. I told them to get the fuck outta my bar. Then the screaming resumed. There was no getting through to them so I did the most logical thing, I grabbed as many blinged out handbags I could get my hands on and ran to the door. I chucked them into the street and then I stood back and held the door as they ran out to retrieve them. Closed the door, locked it and waved through the window while the whole bar laughed.

One out of the band of bitches had been in the bathroom while all this happened. She came out to an unfamiliar scene. All the “besties” screaming at the front door and a bar full of gay gays. I decided to hold her hostage until the Hens from hell decided to pay their tab. It was a high stakes hostage exchange. They sent in one of their senior cunts, she swiped her card and the moment the transaction went through, I let the prisoner go.

Finally they left, but not before this gem floated through the air towards me: “Fuck you, you fucking lesbo!” Such eloquence, such extensive vocabulary!

The following morning I was awoken by my phone angrily ringing. It was the kind of ringing that went “If you don’t pick me up this instant there will be dire consequences young woman!” I picked up, consequences I can deal with, but dire ones and early in the day, no I know better. It was a very angry Owen.

What the hell had I been thinking throwing them out for getting a little rowdy? I explained what had happened and that they certainly had been a bit more than a little rowdy. Owen calmed down considerably. We talked it all through and he decided to call them up and yell at them instead of me. All in all a good solution.

And that was how I got my very first official complaint. I couldn’t have been happier with it.

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