04 July 2012

A Parade, by any other name is still drunken debauchery...

The midnight parade in Porter Indiana probably has some great story behind it.
I don't know what it is, but I'm sure there is one.

What ever it began as, it went from a parade to a "let's get hammered outside and pee on the railroad tracks... minors welcome..." event.

The last parade I went to featured a fire truck and three drunk guys driving pick up trucks down the street... I think.
IF there was more to it, I was too drunk to really notice.
They canceled the parade for a few years, unable to control minor consumption of alcohol and open containers on the road when the event swelled to over 5000 spectators.
And by spectators I mean drunk people.

Anyway... the parade resumed this year.
There are three bars on a three block stretch on the main street of Porter.
People hop from bar to bar, stop for twenty minutes to watch the parade and then resume hopping.
Non stop.

The bar I work at happens to be smack dab in the center of the strip.

I thought we were well prepared, beer stocked, entertainment, servers on the floor and a beer girl in the back. 
We underestimated the attendance, I think.

First of all, the hose fell off the bottom of the ice machine and flooded behind the bar.
I thought it was just ice and pop and stuff being sloshed on the floor.
It was fun for a while, sliding through the water on the ceramic tile, but the water just kept spreading.
On three separate occasions, I damn near bit it, falling once to my knees without spilling the shot I was serving.

People apparently were unaware of the beer girl in the back of the bar, no matter how many times we announced it.

Other people got drunk way before the parade and apparently only came to the bar to push their way through other people and frantically wave at the bartender and then ask for either ice water or pop.
No, no these people did not tip.

People kept asking for their drinks VERY slowly, or one at a time.
Yes, I did want to kill them.
At the far end on the bar, a guy says, "Lemme get a Miller Light."
So I do, at the other end of the bar, and I bring it to him, sliding my way through an inch of water.
He then asks me for two more Miller lights, because apparently the thought of ordering all the beer at the same did not occur to him.
And it wasn't just that guy.
People did that shit ALL NIGHT LONG!

I was soaked in sweat, pressing ice against the small of my back. When we took a break, I stood outside, double-fisting ice water and then wearing the ice as I smoked my cigarette.
The break came just in time, as I was reasonably sure the next request for fucking ice water was going to end in a homicide charge.
Photo via my boss lady's facebook.


Some kid actually asked me what kind of whiskey we had.
At that point in the evening I just gave him a blank stare and gestured to the bar,
all that, kid, pick one.

And then? In the middle of this pandemonium? A god damn frog hops over my foot.
Behind the bar.
For a moment, I thought that was it.
I thought I was obviously too hot and too tired because I was fucking hallucinating.
I was not.
The frog was real, thank God... but for a moment there?
I thought I had finally lost it.

6 comments:

  1. Amateur Nights.
    Nothing else to say.

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  2. The Frog, It was me, your MOTHER!!! just checking up on my FORMER daughter...

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  3. Porter?? My God, I grew up around there! Spent a lot of my youth @ The Village shooting pool. In fact, my (ex) brother in law got shot in the bar you work at. Sorta makes ya feel all warm & cozy, huh?? That was quite a few years ago and it was sold not long after that. Can't remember the name of it then but I'm sure it's changed owner's a few times since. My 1st wife was from Porter, lived on Veden Street. hmmm, small world.
    Anyways, like your blog--you always make me grin!

    Mike

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    Replies
    1. Definitely a small world... Did your brother in law get shot on the night of the midnight parade? If so, I can only assume he asked the bartender for water...

      The Village is still the Village... pretty much a staple around here.

      My bar used to be Rosies, and it was the Old Crow before that, I think.

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    2. Brad got shot by the owner of the Old Crow...that was back in the mid 70's. As far as I know, they didn't have a midnight parade back then but they had the 3-4 day small town carnival/festival/fireworks thing @ the park with bands & greasy food. Brad wasn't one to drink water (by choice) ever, as far as I know. Owner claimed it was an accident, Brad just said 'we were drinking & talking, next thing I knew I was gut-shot'.
      Now I've been thinking about a damn Village Burger for a few days. Might have to make the run...if some old man comes in and ask what kind of beer do you have & then starts laughing....be kind to the old codger - I was just kidding!!!

      Mike

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    3. If you happen to make it out here? I'll buy you the burger, and a shot of every whiskey we have. :-) No shit.

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