Chapter Two "da Brawl"
YOU MUST GO BACK & READ CHAPTER ONE FOR MOST OF THIS TO MAKE ANY SENSE.
Chapter two:
The beautiful guitar player described in chapter one apparently had some knowledge of some connected people in Portland. Wierd things began to happen.
One Tuesday night (slowest night of the week), we were playing along doing our stuff, when both of the double doors on the entrance flew open. In walks too little skinny guys in two thousand dollar suits. Behind them, a walking mountain moved through the door. This big dude had to duck down quite a bit just to get his head under the seven foot doorway. They sat in a far corner by themselve and each one lit up a five pound cigar. They told the waitress to send the bartender over. When he arrived, they talked to him for a few minutes and got up & walked out, leaving nothing but a trail of cigar smoke in their wake. I don't know all of what the monster told him that night. The bartender did tell me that they said they had flown down there in a private plane just to tell him if they ever came back again, it would be to bury him in a field. Being an ex pro fighter, this bartender was fearless. He didn't even know how to spell fear. But, every night after their little chat, he came to work with a 38 in his jacket.
Again nothing happened for about a month. Then one Saturday night, the place was packed to the rafters. We just started to play at nine PM. Everyone there were regulars & they were ready to just have a good time. About nine fifteen, through the back doors, about thirty five BIG men walked in. All well over two hundred pounds.
They just walked right down the full length of the bar and stood their with their backs to the bar looking at the crowd. Instantly, you could feel the electricity in the air. We just kept playing more music. About every five minutes, one of these guys would walk up to some couple on the dance floor & cut in on some guy & his wife. Just trying to get a fight started. The big guy would say something, the husband would respond, & off would come the big guys shirt. Doing his best to get a fight started. Generally, the guy & his wife would just get off the dance floor. This went on for over three hours. I think you could have lit a match just by holding it up in the air from all of the electicity that had been generated in the place.
About quarter to one, a little guy named Roger got up and took his Extremely WELL endowed wife out on the dance floor. Roger only weighed about a hundred and thiry five pounds if he had his really big boots on. They just hit the dance floor & out came one of the big dudes from the bar. He tried to cut in on Roger & I heard him tell Roger that his old lady sure had nice t*ts. Roger had to jump up when he hit the guy. It broke Rogers fore arm in two places. The big guy?
He just slowly danced backwards all by himself and his horribly broken nose. When he got to the coat rack against the wall, he just slid down real polite like and took a nice long nap.
That, unfortunetly was the cue they were all waiting for. Off the bar came the other thiry four guys and the fight was on. Six of them stopped in a couple of minutes, walked behind the bar & lifted the bartender up over their heads and took him out the back door. I called the cops, only to find out that they had been called a long time ago. For some reason, not one cop showed up that night during or after the entire big brawl. I had seen some pretty good bar fights, but never anything like this. They would all end up in a big pile after awhile & get to where no one had room to throw a punch. They would start to break up the big pile and some one would say "Don't you call me a son of a B*tch,& it would all start up again. back & forth across the dance floor & through all the tables and chair they would go. The pounding thud and slapping sound of fists on flesh was the only music they danced to. This dance went on until after two AM. Almost a full hour. Finally I heard some one tell their wife to go out in the truck & get his gun. The place was totally deserted in under two minutes. The bartender was almost dead. We got an ambulance for him. There wasn't one table or chair or mirror that didn't need some kind of repair. And most amazingly, not one person had ever put as much as one foot or hand on the stage. I had firmly believed that we would be as much of a target as the bartender & the club. Not a scratch.
What a brawl!  | 
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