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 have been changed or withheld to protect the innocent.

And the not so innocent.

Cheers!

This one takes us all the way back to last week, and New Year's Eve ...

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Year of the Hare is said to bring smooth transitions, good health and, apparently, people so drunk they fall off barstools and crack their melons open.

Around 1 a.m., after a night of wild dancing, midnight kisses, and plenty to drink, one such gentlemen proved the latter part of that prediction true as he fell to the concrete floor, prompting a circle of wannabe paramedics to hover around him, shining cell phone lights into his non-dilating pupils, confetti hanging off their tiaras and ties.

The Budweiser-sipping man was unresponsive to all the commotion, and I began to worry, so with my co-worker dialing 911, I pushed through the crowd and made my way to his ear.

Crouching low, I spoke slowly and clearly, "I've been your bartender tonight, my name is Nikki, can you tell me your name?"

"Yeees," he slurred.

"J** C******n," he said, "And fuck you."

I stood up, relieved.  Anyone who can manage a little belligerence in that state would make it just fine.

I returned to pouring sex-on-the-beaches and as the medics escorted him out, I saw the severity of his injury; it looked as if a small volcano had erupted on his shaved head, spilling a jagged, wide river of blood.

A reminder of why my job can really suck rang through loud and clear as the barback scrubbed blood off the floor in the wee morning hours of the New Year. And as my co-workers and I recounted the event, we realized that for this one guy who had a shitty night, there were hundreds more that rang in the New Year right.

And if that's what the Hare means by smooth transitions, so be it.

LINK HUB - PREVIOUS "BEHIND BARS"

LINK: The Pooper