Monthly Archives: December 2013

That Guy

I approach this guy at the bar, he’s got this bad shiner, I say, I’d start out by asking you how you’re doin, but I can tell not great with that black eye. He goes into it. Super-charged. Yeah, I was in Colorado, a guy comes up to me, asks for a cigarette, I reach for the cigarette, and he cold cocks me, right in the eye. Check this out, he says. He shows me a picture of an X-ray of his face. See right there?  He says, pointing. It broke that part. Yeah, yeah, I say. Looks bad. So what can I get you to drink?  He orders, I make it.

Then he starts becoming that guy. Obnoxious. Butting into everybody’s conversations. Making people feel uncomfortable.

I’m talking with a customer, I’m telling them, I’ve had a rough couple weeks. I got sick for a week, stuffed up nose, sore throat, cough, got better, then got sick again a week later. That guy butts in with a, maybe you have AIDS.

He asks me to call him a cab. I always hate doing that, for the cab guy’s sake, because 9/10 they leave before the cab comes, then I have to be the asshole that tells the cabbie, sorry, guy’s gone.

I get him a cab, good way to get rid of the guy, it comes fifteen minutes later, I say, ok dude, your cab’s here. He leaves, COMES BACK FIVE MINUTES LATER. What the hell, dude?  He says, I wanted to finish my beer.

Just great.

Then he says, ten minutes later, I want to buy the whole bar a pint. Forty beers, please. Trying to be the bar’s best friend. I make an executive decision.


He leaves. Finally. But then ten minutes later, comes back. It’s my birthday, he says. I’ll take a birthday beer.

By the end of the night, I wanna punch the guy in the other eye.

And you can keep the cigarette.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.



Guy comes up to the bar, says, can you run my tab?  I say sure, grab it, run it, and as I’m waiting for the card to go through, I look at his card, and it has a small picture of him. And it looks nothing like him at all. The guy in the picture looks 250 easy, and the guy in front of me looks 160 tops.

I give him the card and his receipt, and say, man, is that you on the card?  He shakes his head yes. Then I say, did you lose a bunch of weight?  He says, yes, I did.

I give him a high-five and say, good job, man.

I always feel a glow of admiration for someone who does that.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Prairie Fire

A guy actually orders two Prairie Fires tonight. I’m so stoked. I love making Prairie Fires. ‘Cause they’re so disgusting. Tequila and four splashes of Tabasco sauce. It burns. And tastes horrible. The perfect shot.

I tell the guy, we don’t have Tabasco sauce, but I’m gonna run down to our other bar, and get a bottle from them. I’ll be back in three minutes. He looks at me, stunned, says, awesome. This is how much I love making Prairie Fires. I’ll go above and beyond just to see they’re faces when they take the shot. And his buddy has never had one before, doesn’t even know what’s in it, so bonus.

I jog down to our other bar, it’s busy, and ask my fellow bartender, do you have an extra bottle of Tabasco?  He checks…nope. Damnit.  I think about going to another bar on the street, begging for one, but I decide I don’t have the time. I get back, break the news to the guy. Sorry, dude. No Tabasco. And shit’s intregal for the shot. He’s bummed, I’m bummed. No Prairie Fire. He says, I’m not mad at you. Just disappointed. I promise you. You come back next time, I’ll have Tabasco sauce.

I write a note to our manager. Need Tabasco sauce.

And then I underline it.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Weekend At Dave’s

Beginning of the night, I’m chatting with the sound guy, he says, did you see the pictures of David on Instagram?  Oh wait…you don’t have Instagram. Nope, I say. What were they? Well, he passes out on the couch at the bar, Rob takes a bunch of pictures of him, with people in the bar, posing with him. It was hilarious. Oh God, I say. You gotta show me. He gets out his phone, looks for the pics, finds them, hands me over the phone. Oh they are indeed hilarious, David is hunched over, head down, cell phone in hand, with all these people sitting on the couch next to him, arms around him as if they were best buddies with the guy, shit eating grins on their faces.

Oh it looks like he’s the dead guy in Weekend At Bernie’s.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

How To Shave Your Balls

I’m chatting with a customer, he’s got a turquoise long sleeve shirt, and a black tie. He’s learned my name, so we’re best friends. He’s buying the bar drinks, whenever anybody comes up, he says, what are you drinkin?  I’m buying you a drink. Generous guy. Whatever. Spend your money how you want.

He’s asking me a number of interesting questions during the course of the night. I will pretty much answer any question. I’m an open book, to use that cliche. The first one he asks is, are you gay? I say, why? Are you interested? You know, I hate that question. You inevitably have to defend yourself, and it always feels contrived and forced. Oh, yes, yes, I’m a heterosexual male. Sure, sure.

Then he asks, do you shave your balls?  I say, no. I don’t want a razor coming near those things. He says, yes, but have you ever used an electric razor?

Ok, yeah, sure, couple times.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

My French Press

I’m behind the bar, a lot of friends in the house, good vibe, havin fun. I’ve just made friends with this new guy, so I’m pretty happy about it.

A guy I can make fun of. Can give shit to. And can take it.

Overhear him say, to a pal, yeah, yeah, it really bummed me out. I broke my French Press last month. I butt into the conversation right there and then. Your French Press?  You’re one of those metrosexuals, aren’t you?  Everyone around him laughs. Oh, I mock, I broke my French Press!!  What shall I do?

I was actually thinking about getting a French Press last week. Full disclosure, and all.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Big Headphones On Kids

I’m behind the bar, busy show, it’s an early show, some kids runnin about. Buddy of mine walks in with his wife, and two-year-old son. He’s wearing those big headphones.

I love those big headphones on kids. It’s so darn cute. And you know those are some good parents.

Protectin those ears from that Rock & Roll.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.