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Bar fight or any other fight? Never. I almost got in a fight once. Some guy was being a dickhead and sat in a spot where folks were trying to dance, basically in the space of a girl that I was dancing next to. I switched spots with her and was "accidentally" kneeing him while I was dancing. He and his buddy were testy about that. A couple of bouncers showed up. The two douchenozzles wanted to challenge the bouncers, so I was immediately forgotten about and just wandered off. That's as close as I ever came to a bar fight.

Bar fight?

I was a boxing judge at a bar in Olongapo off of Magsaysay Drive.

Two women, 10 point must system.

It was great.

Other than that, not that I remember.

Me and my uni peeps used to pile into somebody’s car and head over to the West Side of Lansing to Liquor Food.

We called it Liquor Food because those were the only two words that were lit up on the neon sign out front over the door. It was a dive bar. Like many leagues under the sea dive bar. Pool table of course and toxic waste dumps called bathrooms, the kind where you don’t touch nothing. At all.

Anyways, the locals blended right in. We didn’t, however. Being of a different hue we stood out. But shooting stick was always an ice breaker, amongst other things.

So money got put on the rail and it was game on. Not everything that happened was black and white but most of it was. Somehow, because the pile of ones was in the way of the shot, I was assigned keeper of the loot.

Well, words were spoke, accusations were made. Voices rose as did one guy who ended up spread-eagled on the table, face up, out like most of the sign out front that said Liquor Food.

I don’t know what happened or what caused the ruckus but me nor my crew were curious enough to find out. I tossed the dough on the table between the legs of the guy who had assumed the horizontal and never looked back. None of us did, we being in the minority, so to speak.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Jeff Higgins (Post 12396985)

I was reminiscing with a life long buddy of mine the other day. We've known each other since we were about twelve years old. We were both maybe a little "wild" in our younger days, probably getting into a bit more trouble than most, but all in good fun. We never set out to hurt anyone, weren't "violent" by any stretch, but at times just found ourselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. All involved were certainly "willing participants", and we never started anything, except once...

We had ridden our motorcycles (I was on my '76 Sporty that I still own today, and he was on his '67 Sporty that I had owned for awhile) to a local "biker" bar. It was early-ish when we arrived, so we were the only two in there at first. We ordered a pitcher (we were actually underage, but we could do that in this place) and started shooting pool.

It didn't take long for other bikers to start rolling in. When a rather large group (maybe 15-20) showed up (flying club colors), their chief dickhead nonchalantly grabbed our fresh pitcher as he walked by, then hollered at the barmaid (who calmly watched the whole thing) to bring him some glasses. I went up to the bar and asked for another pitcher and she charged me for it. I told her she had seen what happened, and to put it on dickhead's tab, but she just told me to "work it out with him".

I was pissed. No win situation, though. Until another group arrived, about a dozen of them, flying a rival club's colors. The wheels were starting to turn... My buddy and I were formulating a plan...

I went over and stole a pitcher off of dickhead's table when no one was looking. Poured a glass for my buddy and myself. Dickhead turned around, noticed his pitcher was gone, and came straight for us. Strutting like a frickin' peacock in front of his pals, accusing us of stealing his beer. So I told him "oh no, it wasn't us. I thought you guys were all friends, so when your friend over there (pointing at an unsuspecting member of the other club who happened to have a full pitcher in his hand) picked up your pitcher, I thought it was all cool".

I couldn't believe he actually bought it. They didn't like each other much anyway, their rivalry was pretty well known. I think in retrospect, he was looking for an excuse anyway. Didn't matter though, it worked. Dickhead accused the rival club member of stealing his beer which, of course, he vehemently denied. That's all it took. It was on.

Pool cues getting broken over people's heads, then the sharp ends used to stab them (fortunately, most had leather vests). Bar stools getting broken over people. Pool balls and pitchers flying through the air. We decided it was a good time to leave.

Out front, with the bikes backed up to the curb, we both looked at the same thing at the same time - those darn kick starters. I think we both muttered a little prayer as we flipped them out and put our boots on them. Must have worked - both fired on the first kick and we were outa there. By now, front windows were being broken, with all kinds of things flying through them. A few blocks away, were heard sirens, in another block or so several police cars with lights and sirens going passed us going the other way on their way to the bar. We just kept going and never looked back.

That was 44 years ago. *Sigh* I just don't think I have that in me anymore. We never threw a punch, but there were other times when that became necessary. In the instances where it was, that was all it was. Even shaking hands and buying each other a beer afterwards on some occasions. Never anything as violent, with so many people involved as this one. They were obviously much more serious than we ever were. People actually got hurt hurt, like hospitalized hurt. The place closed for a long time (weeks? months? I can't remember) to repair all of the damage. Even made the local news.

Yet, in spite of all of that, we never felt bad about having started this one, even under false pretenses like that. They were all primed for it anyway. We merely provided the incentive to get started.

So, any good bar fight stories?

I love your story Jeff! You used your wits to solve the problem without getting injured. Rock on brother!

1977, me, a few friends and my best pal who just completed Green Beret training. We were on the Rockaway Beach boardwalk at some crappy bar. Just finished 2 rounds of Bacardi 151. My buddy has a tee shirt that said, "I go to strange exotic countries, meet strange exotic people and kill them". Well a few jerks kept taunting my friend and finally pushed him. We started to get into it when my pal says, "I'll take care of it", and he did. We all received a few licks but the jerks were very sorry to have picked the fight.

Back in 1978 I had just moved to Oklahoma City, and did not know anyone except my co-workers. All of them were married, and had no desire to have a single dude hang out with them. I was looking for a good nightclub to go to to look for women. I asked a co-worker in front of several other co-workers where to go. He said the Red Dog! It is a great place. Everyone agreed and likely they all laughed in private.

So I went to the Red Dog Saloon. I walked in and ordered a pitcher, and noticed most of the floor was covered in sawdust. I looked around and saw the wall to the men's room had been broken out from inside, likely from a fight in the bathroom, and the urinals were in view with the backs of men using them.

My pitcher arrived and I looked up and saw a man that had to be 6'6' and 400 pounds standing at the bar. He had on spiked bracelets, and a spiked collar. He had a black shirt on with large letter with F**K on the shirt. He was the bouncer I learned.

Of course the place was a strip joint. All the "ladies" I saw looked like biker chicks, and not very attractive. I drank my pitcher and as I was leaving I saw the bouncer walking over to a fight and he took care of that. I left in a hurry and was sure to tell mu co-worker I was not real happy with his recommendation.

I witnessed a guy get murdered in a bar in Phoenix. .... in the bathroom.
the blood was flowing down the wall length urinal. i ran for my life.
the bar was called Mr Luckys. ...... true story.

Never had a bar fight but was banned from 2 out of 3 pubs in my village and it wasn't because my friends and I were under aged drinkers

Really sucked as we had to ride half a mile on our BMX's to the only pub left to drink at which made getting home a real challenge

Quote:

Originally Posted by Bob Kontak (Post 12397151)

The moral of the story is, Don't eff with Uncle Bill.

Haha, we have a different view on things around here. We are becoming slightly more normal, a generational thing I guess. But here in NZ when I was a teen you would be beaten up for being white so the best thing to do was to make the other guy lose instead.

Probably 31 years ago. Got in a fight because a guy kept taking my quarters at the pool table and using them. When a game ended, I walked up, grabbed some quarters and put them in. The guy who kept taking mine didn't like it so I headbutted him. I've mellowed since my early 20's.

Reminds me of this movie clip
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Quote:

Originally Posted by Captain Ahab Jr (Post 12397341)

that sounds awful familiar...

the rule used to be if you could see over the bar you got served but you had to go drink it in the snug or the pool room.

My last ones were in the '70s. One in Tikal, Guatamala at a mirimba party where one drunk guy was tryiing to stab another drunk guy with a big kitchen knife. I managed to take the knife away and take him down. When he was down, some other drunk Guatmalans ran over and held him until the army guys could take him away. The last one was in Murphys, CA in the gold country. My wife & I were staying in a hotel and came back later one night. You had to walk past the bar to get to the stairs that went up to the rooms. As we passed, a big brawl broke out in the bar. I told my wife to go on up and went into the bar. The bartender was waving a shotgun and yelling for it to stop. As soon as I got in some guy tried to throw a hay maker but I popped him straight in the nose before he could. Another guy tried to rush me, & I managed to take him down & kicked him in the gut before he could get up. I left after that, and my wife & I watched from our room's window as the local sheriff arrived and took the guy who supposedly started it off to jail. I was lucky those guys were fat, out of shape dudes.

1988-ish at a bachelors party in upstate NY… started off with a round of golf and then bar-hopping so by the late evening we were deep into it of course we were pretty rowdy. I’m standing near the bar when a guy bumps into me and didn’t apologize; it was hard enough he should have, but I let it go and put him on my radar. Not too much later I’m chatting up a girl and it turns out he’s with her, he steps between us and jerks her away and is giving her some grief. Strike 2 in my mind but whatever… I mention to my friend “This guy here is an *******… bumped into me before and now he’s all pissed his girlfriend was talking to me”. A few minutes later he’s walking towards me again and lunged right at me (or so I thought, lol… turns out my friend had purposefully stuck his foot out and tripped him). I was already on DEFCON 1 and hit him 4 times before he had time to fall. He was out of the fight but someone jumped on my back like in a movie and I hip-threw him right on top of the first guy. Then it gets hazy. Turns out these guys were locals and knew the entire bar and the place came apart. It was our bachelor party versus the rest of the bar. Girls screaming, the bouncers started beating the **** out of random people on both sides. At some point my shirt was torn off, I cut my knuckles wide open on someone else’s teeth, and eventually I found myself literally crawling under tables towards the front door… made it to the vestibule and almost outside when the cops swing the door open and I’m standing there shirtless and bloodied, swearing I had nothing to do with anything. A few of both parties got a free ride to the station but nothing came of it... once they unwound it all, the guy I had started with was known to them and one them said “it was about time that punk got what he had coming”. Meanwhile in this particular case, he was innocent- although I didn't find that out until even later that night when my friend admitted he tripped him.

Makes for a good story now and it comes up now and then as one of the more memorable bachelor parties, but for a long time afterwards I expected a lawsuit at any moment. One of the bouncers was arrested for really busting up one of the patrons and the bar was messed up. But that was the end of it from my standpoint. I have a few others… “to be old wise, first you need to be young and stupid”. Also, if one of my son’s ever read this… without exception, alcohol was involved. My mom was right the whole time.

in college a drunk guy took a swing at me once. real shady place.

we all laughed at him and he got kicked out.

My beard used to be red and had a temper occasionally for only the right reasons of course.
Did plenty of stupid things in my youth (ok later as well) but that blind Darwin missed me for sure.

However that Irish/Scot side of me was tempered by the cowardly yet pragmatic German side. There was nothing to be gained from a scrap with a random stranger. Plus I didn't make enough for extensive reconstructive dentistry. And wearing dentures for the rest of my life would not pull in all the hot supermodel chicks.

Much of that certain time period in life is a blank spot in my memory..

But I remember randomly running into and hanging out with a childhood friend's-friend's-older brother. Not sure why. I think I was trying to help him out by being there. Yeah he was Irish fer sure. We'd all previously hung out on a golf course drinking and smoking pot at 13 or so. My direct-friend's older brother also Irish had tried to burgle a downtown bagel shop, fell through the ceiling, and was found the next morning. Common sense was a scarcity.
(I did mention Darwin, didn't I?)
I remember him driving a pickup truck, piss drunk nursing a pint of whiskey, and every minute or two leaning over the steering wheel going "ugggggh", almost passing out because of an abscessed tooth. It was an abscessed tooth not damage. He wasn't in the mood for medical advice or me driving. Slept on the floor of a cold empty house-shack he was repainting one night.

Not sure if it was the same night, before or after.
I don't think it actually was. But it was right before Christmas.

We were at a redneck bar somewhere in Smalltown, Mi. A short stocky waitress was solid in my face yelling profanities and wanting to fight for some reason. The big guys at pool table were standing around and looking over. I offered to buy her a beer a couple times, relax it's a great time for enjoying holidays, etc, etc, and that sort of faded away. Woah easy there sister. Fk I'm in the wrong place.

Looked over my friend was having a conversation with a tattooed guy in a flannel t-shirt with no sleeves. Plus half a dozen of his large friends. I suspected they knew each other already because they were bringing up talking points. Now this person wasn't an ordinary looking human being. It was a lumberjack bred with a gorilla with a navy seal and with white mike tyson. They went out back together, and despite my friend dancing and using a few slick boxing moves this guy pummeled him with a few hits. Over. I think I drove him back and handed him off to another friend who arrived after he called. I didn't abandon him. It's still blurry in my memory.

Not since college. Stupid drunken brawl in the parking lot of a Taco Bell. I knocked some guy on his ass for kicking my friends truck. His friend that stood a good 3 inches taller than me decided to make his displeasure known by hit me a couple times. At that point I made the valiant decision to sue for peace.

Just not worth getting in a fight. Too much legal hazard, and you never know if someone is carrying.

They called me, Boots.

It was the early 80s, and we had left a bar in Atlanta, late one night. I was driving a Cadillac, two-tone, silver, and black, with two friends in the car. It was a stolen recovery, that I had fixed up to flip. I don’t know why, but this guy tried to hit us. I got out to talk to him and he tried to run me over. I jumped on the hood, bounced up and down a few times, and then put my python boot through his windshield, hitting him in the face. Then, I jumped down on the ground, and every time he tried to open his door I kicked it shut. After drawing a crowd in the parking lot, I ran off and my two friends took my car to the house. I got a cab back home.

I didn’t know the guy, but he had woken up next morning, wondering what the **** happened to him last night! Haha!

And that’s why they called me, Boots, from then on.

BTW, I still have the boots.

My brother and I fought over more than one Mr. Goodbar. We had to split it 50/50 and whoever cut it in half, had to let the other pick which piece he wanted.

Does that count? :)

As the saying goes: "Don't judge a book by it's cover" or "Size of the dog in a fight"

A story once relayed to me: A giant yoked driver cornered a small driver in the locker room. Too bad the little guy was a semi-pro lightweight boxer on the side. Fill in that outcome. I once had a buddy like that. Old gristle developed over a lifetime of work. 100% badger. The thought quickly passed my mind.