Saturday, March 26, 2005

reggie vs. kenny...

After my father’s birthday dinner in Sausalito, I headed back into the city to meet Jason for drinks. We decided upon The Liberties on Guerrero because it wasn’t nearly as crowded as The Lone Palm. Or at least that’s what Jason claimed. I think he merely sensed action at the Liberties. I arrived to find him seated at a table, my red wine already waiting for me. As I sat down, he leaned in and said, “I think there was almost a fight.”
“No shit? Between who?”
Jason explained that when he arrived and ordered our drinks, a gentleman at the bar began chatting Jason up and introduced himself as “Reggie.” Apparently, Reggie had just exchanged less than kind words with a white-trash looking fellow wearing a construction company t-shirt and basketball shorts. White trash was accompanied by another hooligan and 2 scantily clad young ladies who fashion themselves the poor man’s Paris and Nicky Hilton. In Reggie’s corner was his brother, a flawlessly dressed fellow who bore a striking resemblance to Mos Def, right down to the pashmina, hat and designer trench coat.
Jason and I got to talking about bar fights, Jason’s biggest brawl being when he pulled an drunk Asian lady off his friend. The whole time we’re talking, Jason keeps looking at white trash, going “I know that guy. I swear I know that guy.”
Finally, it hits him. “It’s Kenny! It’s Kenny. I know him. I hired him for a kitchen remodel! Oh my god, I totally know him. That’s Kenny. He‘s a complete asshole.”
It is literally exactly at this point that Reggie and Kenny dive at each other, the melee working itself to the back of the bar and behind some wall. A crowd forms as Jason and I crane our necks to catch every inch of this fabulous fracas. Suddenly, Reggie, as if on a Slip N’ Slide, flies spread eagle on his belly from behind the wall until he lands under the bar. Mos Def enthusiastically joins the rumble as Kenny’s dates remain blissfully oblivious at the other end of the room, deep in a conversation about flavored lip gloss or Lindsey Lohan’s bangs.
It was a decent fight, involving lots of screaming Irish woman, people running back and forth through the bar and grunted unintelligible expletives. In all honesty, bar fights make me nervous. I’m convinced that someone will suddenly break a barstool over my head or find a way to drag me into the action I want nothing to do with. But Kenny and his crew where kicked out, the bar erupting into thunderous applause as they left. I went to get more drinks as Jason got the scoop from a gal named Sarah who seemed to know the gory details of the dispute. Reggie, as I soon found out, takes it upon himself to say hello to anyone who approaches the bar, and Kenny, actively maintaining the white trash stereotype, somehow took this to be a homosexual come-on.
Cue fisticuffs...