Poles and Splints

Jesus H Christ! I haven't blogged in days because you can't type with your fingers in splints. No kidding, people are barbarians. I think the human race is getting crazier. We are definitely more angry animals than ever before.

My husband and I decided to check out a new bar not far from our place. I got there first, chose prime seats and made my self comfortable. Nice place, plenty of taps, friendly staff.

Now: the ceiling is low and in two places along the bar there are poles that extend from floor to ceiling...obviously holding the place up. My prime seat was right next to one of the poles and it was very cozy. The bar in front of me, the pole behind me. Soon I am joined by my darling husband and we settle in for an afternoon of drinking.

All of a sudden some drunk bastard staggers out of the back room, loses his footing and grabs for the pole. He's so drunk he must see two poles and not being sure which to grab he goes wide...smacking Scott in the back of the head. I mean he SMACKED him! I fell off my perch laughing and mid-fall I accidentally knocked some lady's (and I use that word loosely) beer out of her grasp. She's on top of me before I hit the floor. Now I'm fighting for my life, time stops. I have no idea what's happening with Scott, I can only worry about me. I attempt to poke her eyes out. I saw it on Oparh once, very effective.

Two guys who have nothing to do with anything decide they need to get involved. At first I thought, "Great how many people do I have to fight today?" Luckily their idea of getting involved was to peel the she-man off me.

Cops came, arrests were made. I broke two fingers on my left hand, three on my right. Scott has whiplash. We've been banned for life from that bar.

That's it! If it ain't broke don't fix it. No more new bars for us. Bar Great Harry: great beer, great people, no nut jobs, no poles.