Wednesday, January 14, 2009

The Chronicles of Miss Andy, Pt. I

So I've been getting a lot of requests to put some of my bartending adventures into written form lately, and although I've worked many a bar in my 10-year run, the O'Farrell Sports Bar in the tenderloin has them all beat story-wise. So here goes:

You know the city gets pretty damn cold in the wintertime, especially if you're a ho in the 'loin. When you're standing outside on a corner in nothing but a bra ,a thong and 6 inch heels in 37 degree weather, dammit you're the hardest working girl in San Francisco.

Enter Brandy, the hooker with a heart of gold. She was very respectful of the fact she wasn't allowed to solicit in the bar, she would just come in to warm up with a stiff Courvoisier and 7up (in a snifter, yo). She was very sweet and a good conversationist, unlike her pimp Lucius. That was really his name. Often times, Lucius would storm into the bar and verbally abuse her (and sometimes physically too), thinking that she was playing hooky (no pun intended), and drag her back out to the corner. We all felt bad for Brandy, the poor ho was just trying to warm up, after all.

Things got worse between Lucius and Brandy as the winter wore on, their arguments being the main attraction of many a colorful evening. Lucius had a bit of a crack problem, you see, which made him a tad paranoid. One night, he was convinced Brandy was stealing from him. I could hear her screaming a block away before she even entered the bar, so I braced myself for whatever was about to happen. The door flew open and Brandy came running in, screaming "He gonna kill me! He gonna KILL me!" and ran right behind the bar and hit the floor at my heels. I looked down and asked her just what the hell she thought she was doing and when I looked up, Lucius was standing directly in front of me and pointing a pistol at my face.


"Goddamit, Brandy, if he doesn't kill you, I will." I said to her, but she couldn't hear me through her sobs. So I said "Please, Lucius, this isn't about me. You're gonna make a huge mistake that you're going to regret...blah blah blah" You know all that stuff they say in TV shows was the only thing I could think of, but it seemed to be working. I told Brandy to go into the basement and she did (didn't have to tell HER twice). Lucius seemed to be getting more and more confused. "Honey I'm going to pour you a shot, okay? Looks like we could both use one (damn straight)." So the pimp and I had a shot together. Then another. He began to cry. "I'm sorry, man! I just, you know, the bitches all out ta GIT me!" I nodded in complete understanding of the situation. "You know Brandy's doing the best she can, you gotta give her a break, you know?" I didn't know what the hell I was saying. One more shot. "Hey man you think you can put your gun away now? Everyone that's left in here is scared shitless. Thanks for driving away all my business, by the way (nervous laugh)." Fortunately he found this funny. "Aw, shit man, hey, are we cool?" He says as he tucks his gun away. "Where da bitch at?" I made him promise to not hurt her (yeah right) and coaxed her out from behind the kegs. I gave them both another shot and made sure everyone left drunk and friendly. I locked the door behind them and proceeded to hyperventilate and do more shots, in that order.

We never saw Brandy again.

No comments:

Post a Comment