A night out with music and bouncers

Last night, Rob and I headed down to Brooklyn to see Dean and Eric play (Kill Henry Sugar). It was an intimate little venue with seating for maybe thirty and standing room for another twenty or so. We stood in the back.

About three songs into the set, this reasonably attractive man in a suit crossed the room to join two girls standing in front of us. I thought he knew them, but he leaned down to one of the girls and said, “What’s your name?”

She looked at him, looked at the giant beer glass in his hand, laughed and kind of edged away. He asked again. Her friend said, “She’s trying to listen to the music.”

He turned to her and asked the same question. It was clear that glass did not hold his first beer of the night. The girl gave him the shoulder and focused on the band.

He touched the first girl’s long curly hair. “I like you.”

She shuffled away.

At this point, I’m no longer listening to the band, much as I enjoy them.

I leaned forward to her friend and said, “I’m standing here with my husband. If you need a man to intervene, come stand by us.” Then I turned to Rob and whispered, “This guy is hitting on these two girls in a totally inappropriate way. I told them they could pretend to be with us.”

His jaw clenched and I could feel him straighten.

The thing is, that I pretty sure the girls would have been a lot more forceful in telling Mr. A-hole to leave them alone, if they weren’t at a concert in a small room. Socially, they were trapped between him and the need to be quiet because there was live music. It’s not like Kill Henry Sugar is a loud band where everyone shouts at each other while dancing. This was two guys, a banjo and drums, playing for forty people who were there to listen.

Meanwhile, Mr. A-hole began tapping another woman on the shoulder and crooking his little finger to her to get her to come to him. She wrinkled her nose, looked at him like he’s insane and shook her head.

He turned back to the first girl. “Dance with me?”

“No.”

He needed to stop.

I walked out of the room to get a bouncer. In the front of the bar, I realized that they probably didn’t have a bouncer since it is a small, quiet neighborhood place, but this guy was being a complete jerk. I caught the bartender’s eye.

He wiped the bar down and smiled, “What can I do for you?

“Do you have a bouncer?”

The shift to alert mode was astonishing. “Why? Is someone giving you trouble?”

“There’s a guy in the back hitting on every woman in the room in really inappropriate ways.”

“Show me.” He dropped the towel and strode to the end of the bar. He wasn’t a tall man, but every line of his body was ready to take someone down.

I pulled the curtain aside. Mr. A-hole had moved on to another woman and had his face buried in her ear, whispering. She leaned away, clearly trying not to make a scene while the band was playing. I pointed at him. “The guy in the tie.”

The bartender nodded once. He ducked back out of the curtain and for a moment I thought that he wasn’t going to do anything, that this was a regular and they were used to him. But he headed to the front, with the fast, smooth waiter’s walk, and spoke briefly to another male employee. All I could see of the new guy at first was his white hat as his head snapped up.

These two guys moved through the crowd with the walk that I’ve seen hundreds of service industry people use; it’s graceful and designed to get you someplace fast without looking like you are hurrying. I’ve never seen it look dangerous before.

They ducked into the room, walked over to Mr. A-hole, and told him to come with them. He didn’t put up a fuss. The band kept playing, with no idea that this little drama was playing out in the back.

I came back in and the girls turned to me, mouthing “thank you!” We didn’t say anything else because we were there to listen to the music.

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