Many years ago, when I first got out of college, I was employed as a "manager trainee" at a plastics plant. I hung out with the guys my age who worked at the plant. For the most part we were in our mid to late twenties, and we liked to have a good time. Each year we would take our big road trip to Indy. We told the wives and girlfriends we were going "Christmas Shopping" but they knew we were going to the strip clubs and bar hopping.
One particular year five of us headed to Indy, I was the designated driver. We arrived at one of the strip clubs that had a reputation for good shows and pretty girls. I settled into one of the back rows at a table away from the stage, while my buddies grabbed front seats and ordered their beers. I probably should add that plenty of alcohol was consumed during the 1 hour trip to the city. There was an old guy sitting near me. He smoked long black cigars, wore a pinstripped suit and a neat fedora. He looked straight out of The Godfather (and kind of like the old guy in the Six Flag commercials). Old Guy spent a lot of time, and money, with one of the dancers. She sat with him between sets, and danced mostly on his side of the stage. At this time I had begun to realize that strippers, for the most part, do not enjoy their jobs. The whole strip club scene is pretty pathetic when you are sober.
After a while the biggest human being came into the club. He was easily over seven foot tall, and must have weighed nearly 400 pounds. A pitcher of beer looked lug a mug in his paws. He ordered two pitchers of beer at the bar and moved to the stage. The crowd of men at the front row parted like the Red Sea as he approached. He began to feed a string of bills to the Old Guy's blond.
I was bored, so I headed for the head to relieve myself. Upon my return, Rick one of the guys with me told me to come on we were leaving. I asked what was going on but he just said we had to go. I got the story in the car. It seems the Old Guy approached Rick and told him he would give him and my friends $500 if we would take the Huge Guy outside and beat him up. Old Guy said the bouncers would look the other way. I suggested we go back and talk to Big Guy, offer him $100 to go outside with us and then leave for 30 minutes. We would be $400 richer. Rick said that Old Guy wanted to watch, so that would not work. I still was not sure why we had to leave until Rick said that Old Guy told him if we refused he would have him beat as well.
You would think this would have put a damper on the evening, but the real adventure was about to start. We went to one of the [popular dance clubs downtown. After we paid the outrageous cover we became split into two groups. This particular club had a balcony that ran three sides around the dance floor. I finally spotted Bitman, the wild one in our group. He was standing on the balcony, picking up half empty drinks from tables. He would sample the drink and if he did not like it he would throw the remainder over the rail onto the dance floor. i watched him do this several times to outraged howls of protest from Disco Danny and Dancing Donna on the floor below. Finally he was caught by a bouncer. He was escorted out, followed by an outraged Danny trying to get to Bitman to kick his ass for throwing a drink on his head. We headed for the door to calm the situation.
When the bouncers heard us say we were with Bitman we were booted from the club as well. Guilt by association, I guess. On guy was still missing from our party and a bouncer allowed Rick to go back, accompanied, to find him.
We waited outside in the cold air. Suddenly the door burst open and out came four bouncers and Disco Danny, still screaming that he "was gonna kill that guy". The bouncers threw him to the ground, cussing and screaming, Dave grabbed Bitman and led him down the block. Disco Guy shouted at the bouncers, as police cars screeched to a halt in front of the club, Danny struggled with the cops. Then he threw a punch. He tried to run, but two cops tackled him within a half a dozen steps. They began to pound his face into the pavement, screaming at him for hitting a cop. Blood began to pool under his face as the cops yanked him, now handcuffed, to his feet.
Rick and Jeff came out of the club at about this time and we started for the car and home. I could not help but think we were somehow responsible for the Disco Danny arrest and beating. Here he was out for an evening, trying to get laid and a group of rednecks throw drinks on him. Outraged he tries to start a fight. All goes wrong after that.
Maybe if we had thrown a drink on Big Bear Guy at the strip joint we would have been $500 richer, the police and bouncers doing our job for us?
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