Super Bowl Drunks and Success

I was dreading my Sunday double. It was the first double for me since walking has become a significant issue for me. My Doc gave me a corset type back brace, since using my cane was leaving me in even more pain by the end of a shift. The back brace sucks. It makes me walk like a duck. Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate the fact that with the brace I am now able to walk, but damn if it isn't really fucking uncomfortable.

My day started out slow, as guys don't usually go to the strip club to watch the Super Bowl. I expected this, so I wasn't worried, I knew we would soon be inundated with post-game revelers.

Around 9:30, Giant's and Patriot's fans started to trickle in, until it became a full fledged wave of football fans in all shapes and sizes. There was a large party of Patriot's fans in our Lounge and they were depressed and crying into their beers. They were so subdued that I knew they weren't going to be any problem, but I asked my bouncers to keep an eye on them to insure they didn't get too sloppy drunk. They didn't and much to the dismay of my waitresses, they didn't stay long either. These guys had big money written all over them but because of their devastating loss, they were in no mood to spend.

Have I mentioned that I live and work in Arizona? Our club is but a hop, skip and a jump from the stadium where the Super Bowl had just ended, so that may give you a better idea of the magnitude of the wave of post-game revelers. So close in fact, that I could hear the jets overhead that flew over the stadium after local girl Jordin Sparks sang the National Anthem.

We have been preparing for this weekend for months. We were well staffed and ready for anything that might come our way. Our GM, Greg*, even came in to assist me Sunday night, to be my feet when things started to get crazy. The amount of money spent by out-of-towners during our Friday and Saturday shifts was astounding. We broke all standing sales records by a long shot and our Staff and Entertainers made more money in those 2 days than they had in the previous month of shifts combined. Crazy, stupid money, I tell ya and everyone worked their collective asses off for every single dollar.

So, when I say we were ready for the post-game party, we were fuckin' ready for anything. Mr. Boss Man called me Sunday morning to give me a pep talk and a number he wanted me to hit in sales. I was blown away, as the number he gave me was higher than any typical rockin' Friday or Saturday had ever hit; "I have faith in you, Dina, (Mr. Boss Man doesn't call me KiKi), put your mind to it and you'll hit it."

So, when the wave began, not only did we have guys coming directly from seeing the game live, we also had rich golfers in town, as Sunday was the last day of the FBR Open in Scottsdale. Rich dudes with their private jets abounded and soon the club was packed and money was flying into the greedy little hands of my excited Staff.

All things considered, the shift ran smoother than I thought possible, with one exception; a drunk asshole who didn't like to be told he had to leave. It all started when I was taking a break at the bar on our outdoor smoking patio. If you've read my previous posts, then you know this is where the weirdos always seem to find me and thus begin the trip down the road to the end of their evening with us.

So there I was, sitting at the bar, checking my email on my phone, when Mr. Obnoxious Drunk plops himself down on the stool beside mine and slams his body into me. It hurt. Bad. Here I am, bound up in a tight, uncomfortable corset because my back pain is so immense that I can hardly walk and this fucking asshole is going to slam his fat, drunk, sweaty body into me?

"What the FUCK is your problem, dude?" I calmly said, staring directly into his beady, bloodshot eyes.

"I jush wanna ashk you a queshtion." He slurred.

"Well, you've just gone about it in the wrong way, motherfucker, now get away from me." I said.

He quickly stumbled off of his stool and staggered back into the club, slamming the glass door behind him as he went. Oh hell no. There were a couple of Entertainers sitting a few stools away from me and one of them asked me, "What the fuck was that all about, KiKi? Are you okay?" I replied, "Yeah, I'm alright but that drunk just fucked with the wrong bitch. I'll be right back." I hobbled back into the club to the sound of my girls laughing with each other, because they knew what was coming. All of my girls are very protective of me, even more so now that my physical pain is so obvious, but in situations like this, they know that I am more than capable of taking care of business. I just had to be careful how I phrased the incident to my bouncers, as they are even more protective than my strippers and I didn't want them to hurt Mr. Obnoxious Drunk, I just wanted him out.

As I rounded the corner from the Lobby to the inner club, I saw Mr. Obnoxious Drunk trying to order another beer from the bar. I signaled to Rick*, 1 of 3 bouncers I had that night, the universal gestures that indicate not only do I want this dude cut-off, I also wanted him out. As I watched, I could see that Mr. Obnoxious Drunk was not taking to kindly the fact that not only wasn't he going to get another beer, he was no longer going to have the opportunity to continue in his boob-grabbing attempts, that he was getting a swift escort out the door. As the argument escalated, Mr. Obnoxious Drunk chucked his empty beer bottle at my bartender, behind the bar. Thankfully, it missed her and just expedited his escort towards the door. Greg witnessed this and he took off after Rick and Pay*, my bouncers, to assist them in any way he could. Apparently, once they were all out the front door, Mr. Obnoxious Drunk tried to take a swing at my 3rd bouncer Jack*, who was already outside. I instructed my cashier to call the non-emergency line for the Police Department, just in case he continued to try to fight and to insure that he didn't get into his car and try to drive. We all know the non-emergency phone number by heart, as we call it often when drunks refuse to take a cab. It's CoverYourAss, all the way, in case some idiot gets into a car, drives drunk and hurts them self or someone else.

Anyway, the Police show up rather quickly, as street patrols are at maximum level to attempt to discourage drunken football fans from driving. Mr. Obnoxious Drunk was so damn obnoxious and drunk that eventually the Police took him into custody for trespassing and disorderly conduct. Serves that fucker right, he could have really done some damage to me in my fragile physical state, with his drunken half body slam.

Shortly after coming back into the club, one of my waitresses came to me and informed me that the 3 guys responsible for the horrific act of violence earlier in the week, were sitting at a table on the main floor. She was running a tab with one of them, so I told her to go in the back, make a copy of his credit card and Driver License and to joke with them and try to get them to admit that it was, in fact, them that beat 2 of our customers so badly that they ended up in Intensive Care.

Boy, oh boy did they brag. They wanted to know if their act was caught on our cameras, could she tell it was them in the video and didn't she think it was funny when one of them danced around after repeatedly kicking the already unconscious men in the head. It made me ill when she told me all of this. Greg and I made the decision not to call the Police at that time, afraid of a violent confrontation with the Police on our property when there were so many innocent bystanders in the building and parking lot. I had my waitress write a statement of exactly what they said to her and gave it to Greg to deal with the next day, when we weren't so busy. I wished I could have had them arrested then and there, but I had to consider the safety and welfare of my staff and customers. It just wasn't worth taking the chance. I sure hope that they are caught and get sent away for a long time.

The rest of my night went smoothly but I was personally disappointed that I missed my lofty sales goal by a mere $887. Dammit. So close and yet so far. I survived Super Bowl weekend, though and I'm proud to say that I significantly contributed to a record breaking sales week for our club. Everyone made an insane amount of money and it was awesome to see that all of our planning paid off in spades.

I was rooting for the Giants, by the way. =)