It's a Living

Davey Oberlin works at Que Sera in Long Beach.

Got any good stories about throwing somebody out?

We had some trouble with a drunken anarchist. Somehow he was coherent enough to get in here, he showed his ID and everything, but I'm pretty sure he was already drunk or stoned or something when he got here. After he'd had a few drinks, he glommed onto this older couple and wouldn't shut up. The older guy was just like, “Pft, forget you,” so then the drunk guy focused his attention on me. He sat next to me by the door, and he was hollering so I could hear him over the band. Every time I tried to get up to do something, he'd say, “Sit down, let me tell you my story!”

What was his story?

I dunno, it was mostly a lot of drunken rambling. I remember he kept saying, “Anarchy is economics!” He also kept trying to give me the URL for some web page, the Anarchist Library or something.

Sounds like a professorial drunk.

He was trying to convert me. I kinda felt sorry for the poor dope. He was also pissed off that somebody in the bar tried to take his money.

What, like a pickpocket?

No, he'd had it out on the bar, and somebody tried to grab it and he caught them. I think they were just annoyed with him for being a pest, honestly, and they were trying to get back at him. Eventually Lou, the bartender, came around and told me we were going to have to kick him out soon. He liked her–she's really good with the drunks, I dunno how she does it–and she managed to talk him out to the doorway. But once he was out there he went crazy and punched our door, this big, steel-lined door. He must've broken three of his knuckles instantly, they were all swollen up, but he was too stoned to notice. Then I thought he was coming at me. We grabbed him and threw him back out. It turned out he hadn't been taking a swing at me after all, he'd lost his balance. But it was really tense and scary for a while; he was not the smallest guy. Eventually we calmed him down with some cigarettes, and sent him on his way. I guess he did kinda bring some anarchy to the bar . . . just not like he'd intended.

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