About-Face

It was a rowdy night at the bar. Sweaty. Packed. A night when anything could happen. And it did.  

It’s about 1am. Things are dying down a bit. I gotta take a leak, I head for the bathroom.

I open the door, and there’s got to be 15 people in there. Seven on one side, eight on the other. Everybody’s screaming at each other. I can’t understand what is going on.

I see one of the owners of the bar in there, trying to dissipate the situation. I think, well, he’s got things under control. So I turn around, and walk out the door.

Later, my boss says, Clint, thanks for the help in there. Really appreciate it. I say, hey man, I don’t get paid enough for that shit. You know what you did in there? He asks. I don’t know, Brian, what did I do?

You did an about-face.

From that point onward, I was known, I was called, deservedly, About-Face.

I’ll admit it, I’m one of the biggest pussies you’ll ever meet. I’ve mastered the art of talking my way out of a fight. So if you get in a fight at the bar, and you see me out of the corner of your eye, you’ll notice me walking,

In the other direction.

-Clint Curtis

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