Last evening, Babe and I were to go out to celebrate my last class!!! Yay!!!
Then, my last class was postponed until next week so Babe and I decided to just have a outside drink at the White Horse Tavern in the West Village. Certainly you know the place.
Well, the table system at the White Horse is incredibly hard to understand and is run entirely by the bouncer who switches between angry-bouncer-man and quiet-dude-reading-the-newspaper.
Yesterday, we had only a small snafu getting our table (a lovely yuppie couple stole our original table, but we remained calm) and Curt the Bouncer sat us just a few moments later.
So we're enjoying our White Horse Ale and being outside in the gorgeous weather. All of a sudden, Curt the Bouncer throws two full Coronas into the trash can next to us and says "OKAY THANKS FOR YOUR BUSINESS SEE YOU LATER."
Then the guy who had just had his beers tossed unceremoniously in the trashed starts ranting and raving "I'm Mike Bloomberg's nephew! I'm Mike Bloomberg's nephew!" Apparently he had been asked repeatedly to not smoke in the outside part of the restaurant (please, how could he not know that?! You're never, ever allowed to smoke in the sidewalk cafes in Manhattan.) and he repeatedly kept smoking.
He threatened to call the police. Of course he didn't. And I'll tell you what. He would've lost. The drunken patron will never, ever win against the bouncer. Never. Ever. Then, Mike Bloomberg's nephew hopped in his SUV and drove away. Drunk.
PS I feel that story lacks panache. Sorry if it was boring. It was just funny to hear someone yell I'm Mike Bloomberg's nephew.