Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Nothing starts the school year off right better than a bar brawl

Last Saturday night I sat in the back of a cop car, was involved in a police chase and saw a lot of handcuffs.

Basically, my citizen ridealong with the police was complete success.

The highlight?

We were outside of a bar/dance club-thing when it began to close at 2 a.m.  Every night when the bars close its what one of the police officers calls "Fight Night."

So on Saturday, the police waited outside the bar so they could stop the fights before they happen, or in certain cases stop the fight  after they already started.  Almost immediately they are called over by one of the bar's bouncers.


The owner of this bar is named DJ Goldfinger (and yes, you read that right, Goldfinger.  He also refers to himself as "DJ Goldfinger" in conversation.) The bouncer who called the police over was his brother. Sometimes people call his brother silverfinger, or bronzefinger. But never to his face, clearly.


So DJ Goldfinger's brother calls over the cops and said he needed help with a girl was laying on the ground at his feet.  When the officers go over there to figure out what was going on, the girl does not stand up.

Instead, she laid on the ground looking up at the officer who begins to ask her questions.  From what I heard, she allegedly kicked DJ Goldfinger's brother in the groin. And then admitted to it.

Kicking the bar owner's brother in the balls is a big no-no.

So after about 10 minutes of conversation on the ground, she is pulled to her feet and put into handcuffs.

She then begins to wail about how it was self-defense.  And I mean really, really, wail. Like tears, mascara and being straight hysterical

Let's be honest, I have no idea whether she actually kicked the guy or not, or why she did it.  All I know is that she was one angry female.

And that when she was put into the police car and brought to the station she would not stop talking herself.

On the bright side, we should all take a moment and appreciate that this feisty girl could have been me, and it wasn't. Score one for the tequila team.

(If you'd like to read a full account of my experiences of hanging with the police, check out the first and second  part of an article I wrote for the campus newspaper about the whole night. I also made a "police log" of the events.  I've been told that my voice is rather noticeable throughout it.)

So part one of the police ridealong series came out on Tuesday.  Everyone was talking about it, and during class and my friends and I started talking about the whole night. Specifically, we start talking about the balls-kicker girl.

Well, after about 15 minutes the lively conversation about this girl, someone sitting in front of me turns around.

"Um, actually," this girl interrupted. "The girl you're talking about is my best friend."

At this point she was doing the oh-no-you-di'nt head bob and finger wag.  "And uh, you don't know what your talking about. So could you, uh, just --" she closed her fingers to her thumb to indicate she wanted me to stop talking about it.

I almost died.

Not from embarrassment, but from trying not to laugh.  My two friends and I couldn't make eye contact with each other until she turned back around.

What I really wanted to say was, "What part do I not know what I am talking about? The part where your friend was laying on the ground? Or, the part where she was talking to herself in the cop car? Or, the part where she got arrested? Because I am pretty sure 50 other people saw that happen too."

But I didn't. I just sat there nicely and kept my sassy mouth shut.

Let's be real, good for her for trying to stand up for her friend.  That takes balls.  But don't try and tell one of the few stone cold sober people there that they didn't see your friend laying on the ground.

I think she was trying to embarrass me by calling me out in front of people, but it didn't work because everything I had said was completely legitimate.  Maybe the bouncer deserved to get kicked in the groin, how am I suppose to know? What I do know is that cute blonde girls can't get away with 4th degree assault, which by the way is the close equivalent of throwing your shoe at someone. Serious stuff.

The drama continues.

After class I go back to the newsroom to finish the second half of the story (the part that included the assault) so I call the bar to confirm the identity of the assaulted bouncer as being DJ Goldfinger{s brother.

Instead of a confirmation, I received an earful from a raging dick who was working that the time.  Now, if you don't want to comment to a newspaper, just say so.  Being a dickwad and treating me like I am a shady bitch for asking questions.

Doing so will get you know nothing but backsass. A lot of backsass.

Because he was being so rude about anything and everything, I basically told him I don't care whether it was DJ Goldfinger's brother or not, and that I would just say a bouncer from that bar.  I also said something along the lines of: Oh, and did I mention I was there to witness the whole thing? And yes, the whole incident will be on the front page of the paper whether you decide to be polite or not. Goodbye and fuck you.

But I didn't really say fuck you. My tone said fuck you.

Anyway, something I said to the employee made him shit his pants, because before I know it my phone is ringing and when I pick it up it is none other than DJ Goldfinger himself calling to do damage control.

Apparently there was a huge misunderstanding on behalf of the dickwad employee. DJ Goldfinger and I talked it out, and I explained why I had called in the first place, and that I was just confirming that the assaulted bouncer was his brother.

Then he starts ranting about how everybody ("I'm not sayin' you or anything") thinks that every black person in "the club" is either him or his brother. I tried to explain the reason why I thought the assaulted bouncer was because I KNEW IT WAS HIS BROTHER, not because he was black.

So after his 30 second rant about mistaken identities, I asked if the assaulted bouncer was indeed was his brother.

"Well, yeah. It was my brother."

OMFG.

Anyway, the reason for his rant is because rumors are flying around campus about how this girl might sue the bar for sexual harassment. Might as in doubtful. Specifically, the rumors say she wants to sue DJ Goldfinger himself.

So basically, no one knows what the hell is going on and its a bunch of hyper college students who love to gossip.

But as DJ Goldfinger explained he has no idea why this girl would say he sexually harassed her because when she came up to talk to him, "I was just standin there, eatin a pita."

Best. Alibi. Ever.

To my understanding, there is in fact security footage of him talking to her, while eating a pita.

Anyway, DJ Goldfinger and I continue talking on the phone for about 20 minutes before we hung up.  Turns out DJ Goldfinger is straight fabulous and it was the best conversation I've ever had in my life. He is so much fun. He also said to call him if I ever needed anything.

I wanted to tell him I needed free drinks at his bar, but I believe my editor would look at that as a potential conflict of interest.

So basically, it's Wednesday, I've finished my ridealong stories for the paper, and DJ Goldfinger and I are best friends. My life is complete. I also learned a lot from this whole experience, like not to talk about girls who get arrested in class, that DJ Goldfinger is straight awesome, along with the best ways to avoid trouble with the po-po.


11 comments:

  1. Eating a pita.

    I'm going to have to use that one.

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  2. I have Pita bread downstairs. I'm off to assault some peoples. Sounds like there was a lot of drama kicking off, but I doubt that girl would appreciate it if you said her best friend "cried rape". If she had been sexually assaulted, which fair enough IS the main reason a girl will kick a guy in the crotch, then I think she would have said that from the start. Rather than screaming it was self defense, she would have been screaming just what she was defending herself from. But I'm no girl, it might not go down like that. I'm just glad that DJ Goldfinger turned out to be a pretty cool guy. He sounds pretty nice, so I hope nothing bad happens. Never hold back on the sass though, it would have shut that girl up for sure lol. Alright she wasn't talking, but still, would have been fun.

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  3. Every post has me smiling or laughing. You're a great writer xxxx

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  4. DJ Goldfinger, best DJ name ever!

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  5. The pita is most definitely the best alibi ever. No hardened criminal would every eat something as friendly as the humble pita. If he had been eating a baguette then that would be a whole other story! Baguette eaters only think with their baguette shaped parts...

    Good for you on keeping your mouth shut with the dumb drunk girl's bff...because you also must have known that you would get to blog about her and have even more people laugh at her!

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  6. Corrine - If I ever get in trouble with the po po I will as well.

    Ovais - Oh I know. All my coworkers shout I WAS EATIN A PITA at eachother now.

    Mark - Yeah, I have no idea what really happened. I do feel bad for her that she thinks that horrible thing happened to her.

    Pickle - And you are such a sweetheart.

    Paula - He pretty much is my hero.

    Princess - Yeah I wasn't about to get in a pissing match with her. Also her friend got an honorable mention in the paper. Oops.

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  7. I love when you find little personality gems in weird situations. I hope you actually talk to him again. Go DJ Goldfinger! Maybe he'll give you the hookup on the free drinks - after the story is published. No conflict there!

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  8. lol this is amazing. Good thing you blog because a lot of interesting shit happens to you. That and you take uninteresting shit and make it awesome. You are seriously an amazing writer. Write a book...I would buy it.

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  9. Oh my gosh I can't believe what a total racist you are for even ASKING if that was DJ Goldfinger's brother. Oh wait...it was? Holy crap that made me laugh.

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  10. DJ Goldfinger ha ha ha. I can't handle that name!

    I want to go on a ride along! It sounds like crazy fun.

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Keep on sassin'

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