Doubts and Regrets
2003-12-16 � 8:52 p.m.

Hmmm. This has been troubling me for a few days now. Initially I thought it wouldn't. I mean, I found it disturbing and troubling at the time, but it's still bothering me. (Which is why this is a cross-post; forgive.)

Rewind --> Friday night.

I ejected a drunken fool from the bar after he displayed obvious signs of inebriation &mdash inability to stand straight without wobbling, slurring of speech, overly boisterous behavior, and (the clincher) coming up to me and offering me a penny as a tip. It wasn't an overly harsh ejection (i.e., I didn't pick him up and kick him in the arse on the way through the door; afterall, I am not a big guy and I don't really go in for that sort of thing anyway), I informed him that he had to go, and after an initial few moments of blustering and confusion, he fairly peacefully went on his way.

In the process of doing so, he informed a young lady that had come in separately from him, but who had greeted him warmly (and who was also well into her cups and on my short list), that it was time for them to go. She, contrary to his reaction, exploded in rage, though luckily at him and not at me.

"Get your fucking hands off of me!" she screamed, flinging off the hand he had rested on her shoulder to get her attention.

He drunkenly explained that he had been asked to leave, and she made some sort of snarling reply that I couldn't catch and stormed out of the bar, followed closely by the guy.

They stumbled off down the street, interacting with each other and the other bar patrons and I exchanged those raised eyebrow looks that imply the amusement and mild shock that go together after such displays. I wished them well gone and hoped they didn't get run over.

About five minutes go by, and I look out the window just in time to see the very same drunken fool lift up one end of the picnic tables that line the front of the bar and fling the whole thing over, sending it crashing into the side of the building. Behind him, in the street, was the female. I could not hear her, but she was plainly screaming at the male.

I made a shout of my own to the server, for backup, and headed outside, hoping I wasn't going to have to get into a fight. I'm not good at fighting.

I arrived outside just in time to block the fool from flipping over another picnic table (which I did by the simple expedient of standing on it). He was drunkenly incoherent, demanding to know why he had been ejected from the bar, asking the server and I — who stood shoulder to shoulder in front of him, slowly edging him away from the door — if we knew who he was.

Once he stopped flipping picnic tables, the female was right up in his face, pushing at him, pulling at him, shouting at him to leave, to not be an asshole, to knock it off and just go. But she was not very big, and he had eyes only for me. He completely ignored her and did that blindly focused look that males learn to do somewhere when they intend violence — it's never impressed me much, and I wasn't afraid. I was just trying to figure out how to make it all stop before he made us do something no one really wanted to happen.

By this time about six of the bar regulars were grouped tightly behind the server and I, and this truly huge biker guy walked over from across the street and stood there too. I don't know if it was that, or the fact that I was attempting to actually answer the dork's questions ("I don't care who you are — I kicked you out because you're drunk. Look at yourself, you're fucking out of control!"), but he gradually allowed the female to prod him into a stumbling walk away down the street.

She followed after him, after a few disgusted and hastily stammered apologies to us, and we all slowly filtered back inside, glad that it hadn't taken anything more to quell the situation.

So, that's what actually happened, in a slighlty condensed format. That's all I know for sure happened.

Here's what I heard the next day:

The opening bartender, Chris, got a phone call from a woman saying she was the mother of a woman who had left her credit card at the bar the night before, and could she come down and pick it up? Chris said that of course she could.

The woman arrived, and tells Christ that the card was left by her daughter, the very same female involved with the drunken fool the night before. The fool and her daughter were friends of about five years, and she couldn't believe what had happened. Chris, of course, wonders what it is that has happened, and the mother says the reason her daughter could not come to pick up the card herself was because she's too hurt.

Christ immediately freaks out, thinking we have caused a drunk driving accident or something, but it's almost worse than that. This guy, apparently, flipped out on the girl and beat her up. I don't know how badly, but the mother described some of it to Chris and it doesn't sound good (nat that anything at all would be good) — facial bruising and cuts, strangulation marks, a cracked tailbone from being knocked onto the ground. And that's what we know about.

The asshole then proceeded to steal her car, and to flee from the police when the attempted to apprehend him. Once they got him out of the car, he fought with them and had to be subdued.

So, he's in jail now, the bastard. And deservedly so.

He wasn't her boyfriend, they were not dating. The mother says that they had been friends for years, and he had never behaved like this, or been in trouble at all before. He just flipped out and took it out on this poor girl.

And it all started with me.

That's the thing I can't get over. I mean, I had a legal and professional obligation to remove him from our establishment, and the girl went with him willingly enough. He was never violent towards her around us (though she was quite violent towards him), and even though he was belligerent I never really felt like he was going to attack me or anything. If I had known, though, or if I had suspected...

But should I have just assumed? Should I have called the police, even though we got him to go away? I know that, as a drinking establishment, especially in Oregon, we have to be extremely careful about resorting to the authorities, because it only takes one complaint and they can shut you down and I am not going to be the one responsible for getting my friend's business shut down.

But...

But...

Argh. I feel terrible about it.

-t

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