Drinking too much these days?

When your a bartender there's always a reason to drink, not to mention, its right there all around you. These days I feel like there is always a reason to drink and I'm actually believing those reasons. Reasons like- its Monday, its Friday, its going to be a late one tonight, my friends are in, the girls are in, the cops are in, it will take the edge off, and so on.  This list of reasons or excuses could go on forever. This all catches up on you if your not careful and after a while the nights start getting longer and the days get shorter.  All of a sudden its just a couple of comatosed waking hours. There's always another place to go in New York City, particularly on the west side, Hells Kitchen area of Manhattan. Lets go to O'Flattery's on 46TH until 8am, then to Smith's on 44TH and 8TH avenue, Rudy's on 44TH and 9TH, or the Holland bar on 39TH and 9TH, all after hours bars, and then more after after hours bars until its normal hours so to speak. I know that's a lot of afters, fuck it give me a beer.  When one bar closes in New York City, there is always another one open.

I recently found myself in one of the many hotels in the area with this girl I met at the bar.  She insisted I come over so it would be rude of me not to say yes- right?. I grab a few beers from the bar and we head over to her room.  Well after about an hour we finish all the beers, only to attack her mimi bar.  A few hours pass and the mimi bar is now completely empty.  So we have the brilliant idea that I go out and get more beer. As I'm walking back through the hallways of the hotel, with a six pack under my arm, starving, I notice a room service tray outside somebody's room.  I lift up the top to see a half eaten turkey club sandwich underneath.  I grab the sandwich and take a large bite out of it.  So now, I'm sitting outside a complete strangers room with a six pack of beer- well a four pack of beer now, eating somebody elses half eaten turkey club when it dawns on me.  "This turkey club needs mayonaise"!!

Alcohol doesn’t make you fat, it makes you lean... against tables, floors, chairs, walls and ugly fuckers, so be careful my friends.

You know when you have a drinking problem when the bartender knows your name and you’ve never been there before. Alcoholic friend of mine is getting married and he is registered to the local liquor store. He tried the alcoholic anonymous 12-step program but he fell down the third step-cheers!!!

Until next time, please don’t forget to tip your bartender.

Give me your money "mother fucker".

I guess you can tell by the headline "give me your money mother fucker", that it wasn't a fun and ordinary night in the Hells Kitchen bar last night, not even close, here it goes.

Its about 350am and the last few customers are leaving the bar. I'm behind the bar, in the middle of counting the money, making piles of fifty's out of the singles. I'm just about to walk out from behind the bar to lock the bar when this guy comes in the door. I always lock the door after the last person leaves, but for whatever reason this night I got lazy. Right away I have a bad feeling about this, I say were closed. He takes out a gun points it at my head and says (well you know at this stage what he said). I say OK no problem I will give you everything I have, no problem. A sense of calmness comes over me, don't know why. As I walk back to take the money out of the register I notice the top of two heads peaking over the back booth in the backroom restaurant area. Its then that I remember there are two detectives back there, there from the local precinct, they have been back there talking all night. So I do what this man says and I start emptying all the Money from the register onto the bar. I can see this man is on something, he's sweating, shaking and his eyes are all blood shot. At this point he says turn around, I'm not turning around I say. For some reason I remember what this detective once told me, God forbid you are ever held up, never turn around, they will just shot you in the back and think nothing of it. So he says again turn around, again I say, I gave you the money but I'm not turning around, please take it and leave. I'm thinking to myself, probably stupidly, your going to have to be a man and kill me, I'm not dying tonight. I then think, as I see in his blood shot eyes that he's not got the balls to do it, you fucking coward.
So he grabs the money and darts out the doors. At this point the two detectives that witnessed this whole thing run out after him. I subsequently follow after them after I lock the door and change my underwear. When I catch up to them they have the scumbag on the street handcuffed, waiting for the paddy wagon to show up. They ask me I'm I alright to which I say, not sure, think so. Finally it all hits me what just happened and I just slump to the ground in disbelief- holy shit, did that just happen.
After I change my underwear again, we all go over to the precinct and they arrest that mother fucker!!
On a personal note, God bless the NYPD because my job as a bartender on the west side of Manhattan is a lot better because of them. I remember not so long ago all that you would get on the corner here, where hookers and drug dealers, boy do I miss those days- just kidding. But seriously it is all down to the great work of the NYPD, so cheers guys.

Oh by the way, don't forget to tip your bartender.