April 2008

Sometimes I wonder what kind of curse I have that I find myself in such crazy situations. It's the most random thing when these stories happen, I can never predict it. There are too many people out there who just don't fucking like me. Like that time from just the other day...

It starts like this. It's the middle of the day and I am sitting at a Manhattan Internet cafe, zoned out on my computer while various Manhattanites consume lattes and discuss their recent moves from Cali, their annoying tax brokers, etc, around me. Just typical New York conversation on a typical New York afternoon. Then, it hits me.

4:20: I need to piss. And this is not just any piss. This is a fucking waterfall piss. This is 10 hours' worth of consumed seltzer and orange juice all coming out at once. And it is just my luck that the cafe does not have a rest room. And I can't leave my laptop unattended, because I do not trust the thuggish looking old man in the corner. And losing my laptop would, at this financially bad point in my life, pretty much be suicide. So I pack up the laptop and start a desperate search for the nearest hole to place my piss.

4:21: There is a bar about half a block down from the internet cafe. I have been there several times before- it is upscale and has pretty strict laws against noise, dress code, and any characters that deviate from the working class douchebag norm. But hey, at that point I would have barged into a fucking police station if it had a working toilet. I stride in there like I own the place. I do not ask for the bathroom, nor do I say a word to any of the bar staff on the way in, and down a flight of stairs to potty central. There is no bouncer on duty, and the bar is essentially empty. So I figure there is nothing to lose. Why would anyone care about me taking a piss in a bar on a weekday afternoon?

4:22: Just as I am unzipping my fly to let loose, another man enters the restroom. The only thought going through my head is "Hmm, hope he's not a wee-wee starer". But before a single drop comes out, BOOM! I am slammed hard into the wall behind the stall. It is a very jacked bartender with a tough-as-nails tone and strong Brooklyn accent. "What the fuck is your problem? You fucking barge right in here, how would you like it if someone fucking barged into your house like that heh?"

4:23: Shell-shocked by the sudden assault, I zip up my fly and step away from this beast of a man, and just tremble in terror for a few seconds before sputtering out a fearful "OK. Sorry about any problems, but I am leaving." But judging from the tone in this man's following speech, he was more than just an arrogant employee enforcing restaurant law. He was the living embodiment of my worst nightmare, prepared by Satan himself: a no-nonsense Brahma Bull whose hatred for me, and any character like me, any sort of weirdness or deviation, boils deep in the blood. By the way he released his next sentence: "Fucking listen to me when I'm fuckin talking to you, you're the one causing the problems" I can tell he was doing more than just straight talk. He wanted to beat me to a fucking pulp.

4:24: I hold a "Talk To The Hand" symbol up to his face, and repeat several times "Sorry for any problems, I am outta here". as I brush past him and begin my dash up the stairs and out of that bar. You see, this is where my sense of adrenaline kicked in at the wrong time, nearly resulting in my demise. I was just like "Fuck You, and Fuck This bar", so on my way out I slammed the front door against its hinges as hard as I could. I had just dug my own grave.

4:25: The Demon Bartender follows me out onto the street. But this time, he really, REALLY wants to beat the shit out of me. I break into a dead sprint. He sprints faster. I know I am a dead man. I know he's gonna catch me, so my strategy at this point is to get into a restaurant or supermarket or any place where people can see him beating the shit out of me, so he could potentially be busted for assault and battery and I'll come out a winner. Amazingly, I make it to the front of a diner, before he slams me, HARD.

4:26: I am tackled to the pavement. I struggle hard to escape- he has me in his grasp by my bookbag. I push with all my might. Miraculously, I break free, and stumble hard into the adjacent diner, stunning a group of customers enjoying a quiet meal. The Demon Bartender stumbles in after me, his fists still smelling my blood. Luckily, at this point the restaurant manager intervenes and tries to restrain him. The manager asks him to refrain from beating me up, giving me enough time to sneak to the back of the restaurant, trembling for dear life as the Bartender from Hell goes on a loud, angry rant about me.

4:27: "Get this fucking kid out of your restaurant. He's fucking weird and disrespectful, he just barged into my establishment. He's a fucking lunatic psycho. Get him the fuck outta here." All the customers stare at me in shock. I hide from them, still trembling. Once the manager has calmed Demon Bartender down and told him they would "take care of me", he finally goes back down to hell. After a few very ackward seconds, I summon the courage to come out from the back. Only to be met by two very stern older men. One of them has a badge. They are undercover detectives who had witnessed the full chase and sprint, followed by the Demon Bartender's frustrated rant from not being able to beat me up. Just my luck. This is where things automatically go from bad to worse. They pull me aside for questioning on potential criminal charges of property damage and public disturbance. I stutter a bit. "L-l-look, gentlemen there is no problem here, everything is under control. Sorry for any problems, but I gotta go." They tell me there is indeed, a problem and I am lying, having busted two doors nearly off their hinges, running like i had just stole something, and causing a scene in a diner. After all this, I am the bad guy.

4:28: When they ask for my ID, I slip up and give them my real identification, rather than my student ID that expired 2 years ago. THey take that anyway. But because I had changed addresses since the issuance of that ID and I did not remember which was on it (actually a blessing in disguise), they interpreted it as false identification, which led to a whole new round of questioning. C'mon- I was piss-my-pants nervous, so give me a fucking break.

4:29: They take down all my information, and Demon Bartender got away looking like a fucking angel for protecting his bar from "scum" like me. I just hang my head in my hands in disbelief that such a small event can turn into a monumental catastrophe. Which, of course, they interpret as a sign of nervousness and possible lying under oath, leading to even more questioning. I respond nervously: "Listen, just please let me go. I just don't wanna get beat up." They think I am changing stories on them. Not good.

4:30: With the promise that I will "stay out of trouble", the detectives finally let me go, to the relief of me and all the unfortunate diners who had witnessed this scene.

4:31: I finally escape to a small Chinese restaurant next door, where I "politely" ask to use the restroom, and slam the door to the world's biggest sigh of relief. The moment of dread is over and I can finally piss in peace.

4:35: After walking several blocks out of the way to avoid coming anywhere near Demon Bartender again, I return to the Internet cafe, where I resume exactly what I had been working on before. But, I open up a new tab to begin writing about the undescribable terror of the event that had just unfolded.