They Pull Me Back In!

As I mentioned, these Doorman Diaries are from a time when I worked at Small Bar on Park Boulevard. It’s been well over a year-and-a-half since I stopped working there, but I try to visit often. Once a week or so, actually. It’s the people–both the ones I worked with and the customers–who bring me back. I simply enjoy the mix of folks, the conversation, the people-watching.

Recently, I ended up at Small Bar by myself after an…adventure. I had been conversing on the book of faces with someone I knew from way back when in the old Mod days. We decided it might just be easier to go grab a beer. Naturally, I suggested Small Bar. Somehow we ended up going to talk a friend of hers out of doing something stupid. He had been drinking and made a vaguely “done with life” type of comment to her in a text. (She has been dating him and another gentleman on and off for the last five years or so.) Without going into a lot of detail, I’ll just say he definitely needed to be out of the house, but he was in no condition to actually go to a bar. I drove them both to her place, whereupon the other guy she’d been dating showed up. Oops. After a few minutes, I departed for Small Bar, adventure accomplished.

Or so I thought.

An hour or so after I got there, the doorman came in and told a couple of us who were standing in the “alley” area that we should see these two guys who had come out of Bourbon Street, heading past Small Bar in the direction of El Zarape. He said neither of them could walk, but they were both trying to help each other do so. The end result was that it looked like some bizarre form of ultimate fighting–they were basically body-slamming each other into the ground every four or five steps. When we got out to the street, we all realized that one of them was now injured, bleeding from the back of his head. A guard from Bourbon Street ran back and got towels. We convinced the injured guy to sit down while I ended up calling 911. Drunk Guy #2 kept trying to get Drunk Guy #1 to stand up, and we kept having to convince him that, no, that wasn’t a good idea. Especially as he was the reason Drunk Guy #1 was bleeding. Apparently, Drunk Guy #2 had tried to carry Drunk Guy #1 and instead dropped him on his head. On the metal grate around a small tree.

The ambulance arrived. I told them what I knew and let them take over.

That’s part of the job I do not miss. At all.

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