So over the weekend, Our House East, my favorite bar in the world, as well as one of the only fun things about Northeastern nightlife, reopened after being closed all summer. It reopened Friday night, and for me, it was a borderline national Holiday. I’ve always felt that OHE and I were a bit synonymous, considering we both ruin freshman girls’ lives. Me and OHE have sort of bonded over that throughout the years, and I feel like we’ve always been connected in that way. Me and OHE keep getting older, but both of our standards stay the same.
Anyway, this anthropomorphous (buy a dictionary, cowards) friendship came crashing down Friday night, when I was politely (and maybe a little physically) asked to leave the establishment, a mere ten minutes after entering. Why was I removed from the premise? Well there are a lot of rumors going around, most of which are untrue, and I know better to admit something in writing. But, if we’re really being honest, and I do consider this a safe zone for my feelings, I allegedly might have mistaken the bar kitchen for the men’s bathroom. Once again, this is only an unproven accusation. Rumors are rumors, and I’m not going to let a little middle school gossip get to me. That being said, it’s definitely true.
I went back on Saturday, wishfully hoping that the bouncers would have forgotten the incident from the night before. Sadly, when I got to the front of the line, the complete opposite happened. At the time, I didn’t completely recollect the details of the incident, but when the bouncer told me that I yelled at him for 20 minutes and threatened to call the police on him (power move, I know), I really had no comeback, and had to call it a night.
Now, it would be easy for me to let my ego and pride get to me, and start a full fledged war against Our House East. I have both the muscle and brain power to do so, and also a dangerous amount of free time. With that said, I’m better than that, and I’m mature enough to see both sides. Most people in my situation would get emotional and blame and verbally attack the bouncer, which I already allegedly did Friday night, but I have had some time to reflect, and I now know that I was in the wrong. I’m man enough to officially go on the record and say “My bad”.
See, I’m also an enlisted bouncer on active duty, and I know how much of a grind it is. I know what it feels like to serve my country, night in and night out. I know the feeling of IDing someone from another state, and having no idea if the ID is real or not, so just saying fuck it, and letting them in. I know what it feels like to get yelled out about rules I didn’t make up, like I’m the first person to ever tell someone they can’t take their drink outside. I know how it feels to get verbally raped by a bachelorette party. I’ve had a middle aged woman call me a pussy because I politely asked her to sit at another table because the one she was at was reserved. I’ve been through that war, and war is hell.
I know how much of a thankless job it is. I know the haters will say that I’m a glorified Walmart greeter that prays to God every time a guy bigger than me walks into the bar he doesn’t start any problems, because I know deep down he could beat the shit out of me. I know what it’s like to carry a deep down secret that I’ve never thrown an actual punch, but still trying to act somewhat intimidating.
So with that, I beg you, please let me back into OHE. It doesn’t even have to be this weekend. I’ll serve a suspension. I have no problem doing hard time for my actions (I’m also working all next weekend so it works out). I’m willing to do anything. How many free t-shirts will it take? Give me a number (only mediums and larges left). I’ll put free advertising on the website (once I figure how to do the code for it). That’s a priceless opportunity. You can’t put a price tag on a TFATB ad, mostly because I have yet to get an ad deal, and I’m not sure how much to charge. Fuck it, I’ll get you free tickets to Dana Gould this weekend, and you guys can come to my place of work and harass me. I owe you that much.
So hopefully this plea reaches you, and you beautiful people can find it in your heart to give a kid with a dream a second chance. Nobody’s perfect. I thought I was, but I guess not. Nevertheless, I persisted.