Smack Dab In the Middle of a Situation Overrun by Fools

Bomb scares, angry drunk women, obnoxious gingers bothering nice Indian men, and Macklemore. Pretty much sums up the past week at BNA.

First was the ordeal in which an entire Ft. Lauderdale bound Southwest plane had to evacuate right before take off. A nervous young girl at the bar was giving us the lowdown of the situation at hand. Apparently a belligerent man, unfortunately a man of Middle Eastern decent, was getting unruly on the plane and not complying with attendants. Not putting on his seatbelt and loud cursing, that kind of thing. Eventually the man had to be escorted off the plane, to which apparently he did very willfully without hesitation or argument. When he got off the plane somebody noticed that he’d left behind his phone and a gold box of sorts. This triggered a scare that forced everybody off and the police and bomb dogs to board the plane. I could see a group of policeman surrounding the man in question. How necessary this all was I don’t know, but apparently enough to halt 120-some people from getting to Florida. As time passed they deemed the plane unfit for flight, forcing the flyers to wait on another plane. It was a disturbing reality check that this shit actually happens, and not only scares but the real deal. So hard to fathom.

Shortly after the frantic young woman left, two middle-aged women arrived to the center of the bar, separately. One got her computer out like many do and got settled in.

“What’s your guys wi-fi password?” She asks.

“Our internet has been down for awhile now, but the airport has a general wi-fi for people but it sucks.” I said

“YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. What kind of place doesn’t have wi-fi nowadays? Seriously ridiculous.”

People are so reliant on wi-fi and plugs it’s completely insane. I would be lying if I said I don’t seek them out myself, but the amount of weasels that come in stripped of all decent, reasonable human qualities asking for either of the two is astounding. Like fucking zombies, people just walk in with a dumb blank face and come up to the bar saying “plugs? wi-fi? wi-fi? plugs?” Like yeah sure I get it but what about uttering out a five second greeting at least. A little “hey there, do you guys have wi-fi or perhaps a plug I can use? That’d be really swell.” Is that so much to ask? And we have to shoo away so many clueless assholes bumbling into the store to sit on the floor to charge like little brainless selfish zombies. I fantasize about headbutting all of them square in the nose.

Next to the woman whose lifeblood was wi-fi, sat a shockingly put-together drunk woman who hid the fact for a little while. She complained that the Chardonnay was corked, and upon smelling it I acknowledged it did waft a little funk to the nostrils. I gladly opened a new bottle and got her a new glass.

“You know sometimes a whole case of wine can be corked.” My compadre Susan said to the lady.

“Um no actually. It’s 2% of all wines that gets corked. It can never be a whole case.”

“Yes it CAN affect a whole case as a matter of fact.” Susan said in her enjoyable British accent.

“You’re wrong, I work with wine, I think I would know but thanks for trying.” The drunk woman snapped.

At this point Suzy Q had to walk away because she was boiling with anger, and believe you me this is a tiny older woman you don’t want to fight with. She will tear you limb from limb.

Regardless of who was right, the woman was being so unpleasant. After she cashed out, she not once, but twice attempted to pay her bill again.

“Look lady if you want me to buy a few things with your card I will, but you’ve already paid, I don’t know what else to tell you.” I said. She was visually embarrassed each time, and with a sloppy stroke of the hand signed the receipt and stumbled off into the sea of hasty travelers.

Finally was a jacked ginger fella sitting at the end of the bar next to a meek, mild Indian man quietly eating his tomato soup, not bothering a soul. The ginger was loud as hell from the start, asking me 21 questions and aggressively pointing to different items on the menu. Eventually he settled on the cheapest glass and when he lost my attention he started chatting with the Indian man.

“Hey bro how’s the soup? What’re you drinking? How is it?” He led in with some basics and they got talking a little more. The Indian man was clearly not comfortable talking with the buffoon, giving quiet one word answers. The Indian man fumbled a piece of crostini into his soup and it splattered on his shirt a bit.

“AW NO WAY DUUUUDE THAT BLOWS! How much was that shirt? Where’d you get it?” The Indian man was getting more and more frustrated. It was a long sleeve, crisp white button up now filled with pale red dots.

“So what do you do for work? A cardiologist? Whoa. What’s your actual title? Do you have any regrets?” Such a weird chain of questions, I thought. The poor guy couldn’t chug his wine and finish his soup fast enough.

“Wait a second are you on this flight to Houston? HELL YEAH BRO!” The Indian man died inside a little bit, and was soon on his way.

Oh, and I also passed Macklemore by the O’Charleys around gate C10 on my way to work. I got him in a headlock and we commenced into a good old fashioned wrestling match right in the middle of the walkway. I mean I got a creepy several seconds long Bigfoot-style video of him. What is life.




Sleeping Lady Gets Unruly

I figured I’d just go straight ahead Fred with the title. No beating around the bush with this one. What started out as a day like many others, ended in three security guards escorting a loud-mouthed woman “with a master’s degree” out of our store.

The woman had been hunched over at table 63 for nearly an hour, unbeknownst to us if it was alcohol related. She apparently only had one Moscato (about 7% alcohol) from us, a bit of knowledge that would’ve been handy when I attempted to move the beast. Regardless, she had to be asked to leave because we needed that table for awake customers.

When fellow co-worker of mine Margaret first asked her to kindly move elsewhere, she just put her head back down and payed no mind. “Hey will you get her out of here please?” Margaret asked.

It’s always fun asking unwanted people (campers i.e. freeloading shmuckos) to leave, so I gladly abided. This time was the most fun.

“Excuse me miss hey you need to get going please. You need to sleep somewhere else. We can’t have you sleeping on our table.”

“What? What?! I’m over here minding my own business I ain’t botherin’ nobody.”

“The thing is we are busy and we need this table for paying customers.”


“Well I didn’t know that, but still there are other places to relax so plea…”


The thing is this shit happens all the time. We have to kick at least 7-10 people out a day, especially in the mornings. Most tend to understand and comply, or if we are deathly slow we let them hang.

At that point it was just me trying to talk over her and her getting louder and louder until I walked away repeating, “Hey thanks for being so pleasant and wonderful.” She got out of her seat and followed me back to the counter to continue yelling. Some customers were more captivated than others, but it evolved into quite the show.

“Why don’t YOU leave? OH WAIT this is your place of employment. You CAN’T leave. I have a master’s. I HAVE a master’s.” She kept saying to me.

“I don’t give a SHIT about your master’s!” We continued to exchange unpleasant conversation.

“It’s because I’m black isn’t it? Because I’m black? There was a little white boy yelling over there and you didn’t say nothin’ to him!” First of all there’s often yelling and bells and whistles and alarms going off all the time from every direction, just not directly inside our store.

“That is the most absurd thing I’ve heard miss. Completely uncalled for to say something like that. And I did not hear any little white boy yelling.” Eventually my boss stepped out from in back and diverted the hostile woman’s attention towards her. I then watched as a spectator into her non-stop blathering and trying to collect company info and our names.

Eventually the trusty airport police were hot on the scene and confronted the pacing woman. She was on the phone with someone from our headquarters. The airport po-po got her to sit down and the situation was divulged, ultimately having the unruly woman escorted out. Her ramblings and accusations were getting more and more distant as they took her off to airport jail or whatever they do.

I thought it was awesome. I just think of it as some TV show or a game like “Get the Crazy Lady Away and Win Another Strange Life Experience.” My boss and other co-workers were bent out of shape over it though. They care more about the integrity of the bar than I do.

And as fate would have it, a man caught a minute-long video of part of it. The quality is piss poor but you can hear some priceless snippets. Just another day in the war zone that is the airport.