True Stories of The Glizty VIP

Last night, there was an event at the club. It's unusual for Thursdays, but it does happen once in a while. It's usually an Israeli event.

It's an odd mix of traditional Israeli music, techno, a live drummer and live singer.

When I first started at this club, I really hated all the douche bags equally. Armenians, Israeli, Persians...all of 'em.

Long story short, I get along with the Israelis much better these days. Turns out they respect you when you don't back down from their macho crap. I know quite a few of them now. I still hate their music and recreational activities, but they're OK. I even know a couple phrases in Hebrew, although I really only need one; raga tov (I'm not sure of the phonetic spelling, but it's something like that.)

It means "calm". If you say it twice, it's the equivalent of "heyheyhey! Everybody chill".

At any rate, there was a party last night. Some chick sang. She was like the full Hebrew Celine Dion, mixed with techno music...yes, welcome to ear hell.

By 1:30 I still only had three tables, which is terrible even for a slow night. Nevertheless, one group was making quite a go of tearing it up. They were dancing on our leather seats, clapping loudly, spilling drinks, dancing in the VIP, and generally being rowdy. They had taken very good care of me all night, so the only thing I stopped was the dancing on the seats.

One guy was clearly trying to get with any of a number of girls at the table. He was dancing on, grabbing, or trying to kiss at least three or four different girls. And he was about four different kinds of drunk.

He finally convinced one of the girls to make out with him. I had -just- looked at my phone to check the time, and glanced into VIP to see how the tables were doing on their bottles (they had 25 minutes to finish them before I pulled them off the tables).

So Don Juan was making out with an unsuspecting girl, and he stops. He looks at her funny for about 1.5 seconds...and pukes all over her. It was on her neck, her chest, arms, and our floor.

It was the most powerful combination of disgust and comedy I've ever experienced. I couldn't stop laughing to radio for a barback* to come clean it up.

The girl rushed to the bathroom. Calling her "a little freaked" would be like calling Robert "sorta smart". It doesn't adequately cover the situation.

*The 5'2" mustachioed barback took one look at the mess and, -I swear to God- his face said "I've gotta fuckin learn English".