Bounced

It was just a night out, don't do that very often these days, for the usual reasons: too much work; too little money. Even so, it wasn't a big night out, just a drink with friends in the pub, and the inevitable move to a late night bar. In this case it was an over sized pub, the kind that call themselves clubs, but not really.

Had been a long day, up at 6 and non-stop editing to get bloc up. The music had not really got my groove going, to say the least. I spied a small two seater settee, and, ever the opportunist, wandered over to lie down.

So there I was, lost in a private reverie, thinking that I really should sit up and be more sociable, when a rough hand grabbed my shoulders.

'Oy , you can't sleep here, going to have to ask you to leave.' It was a text-book-bald bouncer.

Now, and this is important, had I been asleep, I never would have sat bolt up right, and aplologised in an absolute lucid tone. That's important because of what followed.

This big, ugly, bald guy insisted I leave, so I told him yes I would, once I'd finished my (overpriced) drink. Not good enough - onto radio for immediate back up, well guess I was looking dangerous at that point. Cue two more bouncers, lady bounce grabbed my drink - I wouldn't let go. She did let go, realising that I was not particularly drunk, or aggressive. Not good enough - next thing two huge bouncers lunged forward telling Tim to get out of the way. He refused and was lifted up and tipped out of his chair, wearing one of the best expressions of simultaneous surprise and determination I've ever seen.

Before I knew what was happening I was in a double arm lock - ouch - being shoved out of the building down a big flight of stairs, feet no where near the floor, as though I had just glassed someone or pulled a knife. One of the bouncers put enough effort in on my arm to leave it pretty bruised and sore. All because I lay down? I don't know what happened up there after I was so unceremoniously thrown out, but Liam was out next, hauled down the stairs by his neck, Tim was in a similar state.

One by one, people wondered out in a state of shock, anger, confusion. We had to negotiate getting our belongings back - bouncers refused to tell their names. Policewoman refused to help.

However, in the midst of all of this some very funny things happened. 1)A guy weaved his way to the door, so drunk he could barely stand, bouncing from wall to wall - the bouncers all smiled and greeted him 2) A girl was puking outside the door, she was let in, with a smile. (Not neccesarily funny - just wonderful irony. Those two were semi conscious and pretty gone on. Whilst we were all pretty lucid, but treated as though we were drunken/violent scum..) 3)Liam said when someone went to get my bag back that obvioulsy it was full of drugs - I think the word 'sarcastic' was lost on them 4) Ben, in an attempt to collect our stuff, picked up a coat. A really horrible coat, that made him look like a dodgy 80s German raver. He decided to wear it home.

If my arm didn't still hurt so much, I'd say that sight nearly made it all worthwhile.

I rant this here, because it was all such a stupid, miscalculated, badly judged balls up. Why do they call them 'bouncers'? Why don't they just own up and call them mindless, zenophobic thugs...