A rapist in an electric wheelchair.
A bohemian starting a revolution vis-a-vie a poorly written manifesto with no money.
A table full of Brits with no manners and a belly full of Utah booze.
Cheap Russians wanting to know why the dueling piano shows doesn’t have shrimp for their Caesar salad.
A rode hard pair of Swiss tourist en route to the Grand Canyon refusing to acknowledge that his first name is Tobias. I mean seriously—if your name was Tobias why would you not answer to it?
Throw in a couple of Swedes, a baker’s dozen of homeless guys and a Native trying to stab my door guy and you have a Wednesday night.
Bartending is best when you’re busy and don’t have time to pick apart your customers. Tonight, I wasn’t that busy.