Sometimes Real Life Can't Be Invented

Sometimes people don't believe some of the bar stories I tell them. Here's one for example. Last Sunday night was rather slow and Chuck and I were being entertained by Clarence, Dawn and a quartet that seemed to love my work playlist. The two women of the group were from Norway while one of the men may have been French, the other dude didn't have a discernible accent. So since the bar was empty, I didn't mind their dancing to the music. Rather pedestrian. No? Ok, let's fast forward a few pints of Bud and a few shots of Jaegermeister.

By now only Clarence is with Chuck and I, a random dude at the bar and the mad dancers. Bump around the bar they go while "dancing". Luckily the bar was empty or else they'd have bumped into anyone and anything in sight. As it was they were already one foot out the door, the next act in the play would seal their fate. 

As I walk to the back to use the bathroom, one of the ladies was with the non accented guy. They looked as if they were simply talking amongst themselves. As I am finishing in the bathroom, I hear a series of loud "THUDS". As if a bowling ball was dropped on the floor. As I run out to see what happened, the dude was later out flat on his guy while the chick was straddling him while flexing. When I asked them what they were doing, the chick said: We're wrestling!!! Not in my bar they weren't. LOL.

I pulled them both up and told them to finish they drinks and get out. I told the dude that she was ready for him and to take her home, to which he nodded in approval. After all she was kind of feisty.You think that it would end there? NO!!! There was one more act.

A few minutes later, the Fabulous Moolah of the group runs to the back of the bar with the non accented dude in tow. As per my experience, when that happens only one thing is going to happen. To use the jargon of the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest, the bathroom was a witness to some Norwegian "reversal of fortune". Guess Moolah couldn't take the wrestling bumps after all.

Luckily for her and us, she was able to make the bowl and after making her offering to Oppkast: The Porcelain God of Vomiting from Norweigan mythology (Well, not really. It's the Norweigan word for vomiting. I thought it was witty, LOL) the group quietly put their jackets on and slinked on out the door. 

Ah, another riveting Sunday in the bar business. 

FH