bar breakups and The Bandit.

Unfortunatly sometimes relationships end at bars. Often I have a front row seat for those unpleasant situations. Last night it was a breakup I found familiar, Punks breaking up. Aw. I was kind of busy with other things like checking IDs, keeping the tavern't glassware from walking off and monitering "The Bandit" 

The Bandit is what I named a lady who was tearing around on an electric bike with ruthless abandon. 

She is a beautiful Black woman, well dressed, laughing hysterically and bolting full throttle all over the place. I would describe her driving style as scribbling. Every few moments I would hear cars honking at her, people on the sidewalk diving out of her way and at least two vehicles of her own people doing everything they could trying to catch her. They never did. As chaotic as she was I was impressed with her driving skill on the electric bike. I still had to be ready to tackle her if she was going to bowl over any of the bar patrons. 

I was watching The Bandit when I hear to my left some tempers raising. "You say you forgive me until you don't. Our relationship is over!" Two punk rocker women were yelling at a guy at the same time about different things. As the ladies went into the tavern one of them told me "Don't let him back in."

I checked my mental doorman clown handbook. Thats not in my terms of service. He had valid ID and he wasn't overserved. Standing on a scooter wimpering isn't an 86 offense. While his brand new Exgirlfriend was singing punk karaoke songs he just stood outside staring at the ground. 

I went outside and said "Need some water or a call for an Uber?" "No thanks but Thanks." Instead he decided to go in and talk to her. By then the friend was singing. The couple argued on the dance floor in front of her. Nobody noticed because the punk song was already angsty. I guided Porcupine Romeo out before the song ended. "This isn't the place to work it out." He said something dramatic but it was anti climactic because he limply rolled off on a little scooter. His plight was easily drowned out by the Bandit who blew by scortching the atmosphere, cackling like a Hyena with her headlight pointed up and to the right. I could track her by the light on the second floor of the apartments across the street. HAHAHA! What a card. 

The ladies came back out, did a little crying and a little phone calling to find her a place to stay. I got her some water too and saw them off. 

Then to my delight The Bandit rolled up. She gave me a huge smile and said "I'm intrigued by them shoes. I'm 51 today! I lost my phone, Y'all got snacks and bar food? I'm cold." Finally the Bandit ran out of fire. LOL.  I wanted to hug her immediatly, eventually I did. Happy 51 Girl! She escaped her own birthday party many blocks away. I helped her reunite with her folks. After talking to her it dawned on me that she wasn't very inebriated. Most of her chaos was pure joy. 

The night ended and I went home. I'm an old punk and I live with middle aged punks. When they asked how my day went I said "It was sad to see punkrockers break up, brought back bad memories of my own romances disintegrating. My roomie was surprised. "They broke up? Punkers almost never break up, usually one of them dies." That was a very macabre thing for us to be chuckling about at dark thirty in the morning.