Tips from the bar: Lax edition

This past weekend was the UVA Lacrosse Team’s Will Barrow Flag Football Tourney benefitting the UVA Helpline.

It’s a great event for a great cause that draws in lacrosse teams from all over the East Coast, who compete and then party their asses off after.

So on Saturday came droves of mustachioed lacrosse players (#Movember) demanding enough SoCo Limes, Rum and Cokes and Redbull Vodkas to take out a seasoned alcoholic – it was pretty impressive.

In the most athletic fashion, they all started drinking around 10am and marathoned it for the next 16 hours, #champs.

(P.S. I still love the UVA Lacrosse team, but fuck you Hopkins)

5-8pm

I show up to work a little early and I think a handful of kids have already been kicked out, which, let’s be honest, is hilarious.

I joke to my friend at least no one whipped their dick out again, right? Lol, wrong. One kid has already poured salt and pepper down his pants, while squirming around, saying,”salty.” While S&P isn’t my seasoning of choice for genitalia, I’m not here to judge (too harshly).

One kid simply wanted to take a nap on the stairs, but seeing as it was five o’clock at a restaurant, he was sadly unable to do so.

Employee tear count: one

8pm

It gets busy enough for me to get called on and the real fun starts.

I get asked by a drunk, pencil-mustached guy if he’s allowed to bartend because he’s “registered to do it in Massachusetts.” I inform him we’re in Virginia, and then expand upon the existence of state laws. He gives me a blank look. I’m sure he’ll end up in Law School somewhere and let it go.

Everyone keeps trying to steal limes, straws and pens, and I think about doing what my boss did earlier in the day when everyone was doing the same thing: throw water in their face and kick them out. I refrain.

Employee tear count: two

10.15pm

It is around this time, I am introduced to the asshole wearing a Brett Favre jersey. Unbeknownst to me, Mr Favre had already made a name for himself with the other bartenders, and those names were Public Enemy #1, Asshole of the Year, and Gerald.

With his mullet/stache combo, the only thing he had in common with the actual Brett Favre is that he clearly loves the 90s.

When the concept of signing a receipt is too difficult to grasp, you should probably go home. When you throw your credit card at the person serving you not once, but twice, you should probably go home. Mr. Favre didn’t heed this advice. I did overhear a girl telling him his mustache was gross, though, so I guess I can still thank God for the little things.

Employee tear count: 3.5

11pm

I don’t think I’ve ever told so many people to go fuck themselves while still smiling. Not that I’m smiling because it was funny, I’m just so convinced that if I stop smiling, I will break down and cry.

To my right, a guy snaps his fingers at my coworker to get his attention. I hear my coworker putting the guy in “timeout,” and I am reminded once more of how similar drunk people and children are. On the upside, the guy did tip $10 after his timeout, so maybe there’s something there.

At the same time, a guy in front of me makes a weird high-pitched shriek. Stunned that someone had simply yelled to get my attention, I snap my head up and let him know if he yells at me, he won’t get served.

He is very quick to defend himself, claiming he wasn’t yelling! I take the timeout approach with him, ignoring him for a couple of minutes.

When I return, he apologizes for yelling and tips me nicely. Huh. Definitely onto something here.

Employee tear count: two

11.30pm

Some guy shoves a girl to get to the front of the bar. Seeing this, I ignore him indefinitely. He continues to yell at me his order, going so far as to reach over and touch my face.

Please don’t ever touch me while I’m working.

I immediately go tell my other bartender who gets a bouncer. Turns out this kid had already been kicked out earlier in the day. So that was a first – kicking the same kid out twice during a day.

Employee tear count: four

Midnight

WE MAKE IT TO MIDNIGHT. This is a hollow victory as we remember the bar is open until 2am.

A kid orders five shooters. As I go to deliver them, two drunk kids next to him reach over and grab two shooters. I yell at them stop and put them down.

One of them does. The other looks at me and stops.

I tell him to put it down or I will kick him out, and I shit you not, this kid locks his eyes with me and without blinking, throws the shot down the hatch.

His friend tries to make up for it and offers to pay for the shots. I am #overit, though, and I go to get a bouncer.

When I tell my coworker to go grab a bouncer, an indescribable glee overtakes his face and he claps his hands together. “Oh, hell yeah, let’s kick someone out!” he cheers on his way to grab a bouncer.

Glad to make someone happy, I guess.

Employee tear count: 3.5

12.45am

Things are finally slowing down. I have time to check my phone and catch my breath. People are still ordering RBVs, which should be illegal at that time of night, and no fucks are given as everyone sloppily makes out with one another under the bright light of the bar.

Employee tear count: too tired to cry

1.30am

Lights go on, and I have never felt more excited to kick people out. Some kid is calling his girlfriend his sister and making out with her in order to freak people out.

Some lax kid forgot his pads at the bar, so we give him to our favorite patron, Big A, who even posed for a picture.

Everyone leaves and we have the fun task of going through the receipts and cleaning up the bar.

Shout out to the girl who didn’t tip and explained on the receipt it was because she “is on a strict budget.” I didn’t realize spending $62 at a bar is allotted on most strict budgets. But hey, I’m a poetry major so what do I know of budgets and whatnot?

On the way out, we did find one person asleep on the couches. Couldn’t decide which was crueler, leaving him there or waking him up. We opted for the latter.

All in all, it wasn’t even in an outlier in terms of average night at Boylan.