It’s a busy show, people one side of the bar, to the other, wanting drinks. I could use another bartender. Whatever. Doin it solo.
One of the promoters of the show, runs up to the bar, says, hey, Clint. Can I get a bar towel for the stage? I’ve got a drink I’m making in my right hand, I grab a clean towel, and heave it at him with my left hand. Unfortunately, the towel curves right. SPLAT. Right in some guy’s face. And it stays there for a comedic few seconds, like the aftermath of a custard pie to the face.
The guy comes up few minutes later, I say, sorry about the towel. Bad throw. He says, fine. No problem.
From my heart to yours,
Clint Curtis. Bartender.