Off colour

We had a little problem with a semi-regular gentlemen customer at a popular destination in the town centre. We see him in passing most weekends, see him in most months and see him like this very rarely.
He seems to have some inherent communication issues, though not severe enough to stop him having a small group of consistent friends. He has socialised with this group for several years and he appears a core member of it through the numerable cast changes. He does however have some issues and these are exacerbated by drink.
He doesn't seem to read group dynamics, he can't seem to see who's associated with whom and where the lines of familiarity are drawn.
He will interrupt conversations to put his unrelated interjection over the top of it. He will be overtly friendly with groups of strangers who just happen to be unlucky enough to be walking down the street at the same time he is. These might line him up for some abuse and intimidation but these are all strangers and generally used to dealing politely with the socially inept you encounter on a night. What his most troubling issue is when he is angered or confronted by one person he can transfer this anger onto another group or person who haven't been involved.
He often gets into arguments, on the street and inside venues but is normally sober enough, or more accurately not too drunk, to let these accelerate. He backs down, his friends wade in or we guide him away. He's not particularly aggressive, he's not large or intimidating, he just gets baffled by group dynamics and boundaries.
When he's had a skinful however, he doesn't know when to back down, he doesn't know when he's in danger, he doesn't seem to clock when his mates are not around.
All of this adds up to us finding ourselves dragging him out and landing him on the street. We don't bar him as this only happens once a year, he and his group are normally a fun, big spending group which reflect the target audience of the venue well. Some folk just shouldn't celebrate their birthdays it seems.

Lost n' Found

The list of things found in the deepest darkest corners of the nightclubs as you're clearing out the place is only bettered by the list of things found out in the unconcealed open.
The little triangular blue pills to help gentlemen turn up on the bar. The spent hamster mattress has shown up in a previous post. The bags/lines/wraps of coke that accumulate on the seats, tables and corners of the dancefloor are an all too common sight under a bright torch light. The bizarre however is by its very nature rare. The purse, lost on the main dancefloor, reported to us hours before, turns up at kicking out time, still full of cash, phone and keys. That was a massively unexpected event.
We do give folks the occasional surprise when we find their bank cards, digital cameras or the bits of the phones that disappear into the poorly lit gloom every time a handset is dropped. I carry a torch for that very reason. Well that reason and the fact that naughty stuff glows very white under a blue end of spectrum LED.
The lady who asked us to find her lost handbag was a little shocked that when we found a black faux leather clutch bag and decided to check for her ID, phone or some unique identifier before handing it over. Even more shocked were we when next to her ID, a very good photo, was a little clear bag half full of white powder. That customer doorman relationship turned on a sixpence at that point.

Ruff and tumble

The student masses have descended again and after a few pointless exchanges of words with closed ears, well spoken idiots I was put in mind of a incident a long while ago. In a multilevel venue with a kind of balcony overlooking the stairs I encountered a considerably inebriated young scholar in his sporting outfit. Separated from the rest of his herd he had clearly been left too long at the watering hole where he was singing loudly and making the king of sounds only half a silver drawer in your mouth from an early age can produce. He was swaying gently in the still air and I was afraid that in the interval it would take me to reach him across the very busy floor of the club he would have swayed too far and broken the slight string of sobriety pinning him upright.
I was right to be worried. As I was just beyond arm's reach and closing fast he went down. Well he nearly went down, he had one hand holding strong to the balcony rail while his other 3 limbs rubberised and then appeared to be electrified as his drink stalled reflex nerves tried to right him.
Luckily his one good hand held 'til I got within grasping distance and then I did just that. I grasped at his shoulders to find I was holding only jacket. I grasped at his middle and got only a handful of shirt. With a more assertive pinning of the lad to the rail I got control of his torso. The four distributed limbs were by now firing wildly, half to try and regain balance, half trying to fend me and my control off. This went ok 'til the lower two started resisting me and the upper two started resisting gravity. I got massively unbalanced, tangled and entwined in this whirling ball of limbs. Down we both went. I struggled free and hauled myself up. He was fairly well just thrashing about. Lively, energetic but massively unfocused. As I wasn't heading back to the mat with this one just yet I grabbed an arm, lifted it high and began dragging him back to his feet. This time, they came back under him in a more positive fashion. The one restrained wrist became two and he was successfully frog-marched out, his legs still retaining the amphibian limbed bounce of his earlier efforts. Not a glorious episode but for all those watching and at least one of those involved quite a funny one. Even when sitting across the road, about to be arrested for D & D he still managed to get beautifully plummy "far" and "can't" sound into his final "fuck off you filth cunt" line.