REAL STORIES FROM REAL BARTENDERS >>>

I've been a bartender for a long time. I have met countless freaks, jerks, pervs, sweethearts, rockstars and crazies. Even though it's a physically and mentally exhausting job, these are the colorful people that make it all worthwhile. Well, that and the tips.

I'd like to share with you some of my personal experiences behind the bar, along with the stories from some of my fellow bartenders. Each week - under the clever heading of "Behind Bars" - I will dig into my memory bank -- and the incident log books that all bars keep - to bring you some of my favorite stories.

Names of bars, bartenders and patrons are withheld to protect the innocent.

And the not so innocent.

Cheers!

This week takes us back to '04...

It was a cool Sunday night. The bar was mellow enough - a few rowdies getting loud in the corner booth, but nothing serious - when out of the corner of my eye I notice a fella unbuckling his pants. The next thing I see, he's shitting on the floor, all nonchalant, like he shits on floors every day.

Well, there was a momentary stunned pause as he finished his duty (or doody) and then the bar was amuck - the other bartender screaming, patrons snickering, and my short fuse lit. "Nobody shits in my bar," I thought. In a lapse of judgment I grabbed a plastic bag, scooped the poop, and ran into the streets after him, hollering that he forgot something. When I saw him just ahead I flung the poo-sack. It hit his left shoulder and that was that. I walked back into the bar, feeling rather dirty but accepting of the applause, and poured a round of whiskey. Needless to say, I took a long shower that night. And no one has seen the pooper since.

Check back next week for more exciting adventures "Behind Bars."