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RavishingRickRudo

MMA Comments that Don't Warrant a Thread

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Good idea. Quick note:

 

Someone asked me if there was a bouncer's code or general rules we're supposed to follow a while back, and I just remembered one I was told my first night there: Don't tell anyone where you work.

 

After my first night of work, our manager decided to have a staff meeting, seeing as how myself and several other guys were just starting out. He mostly went over a couple of common sense issues, like not taking things personally, always asking other bouncers for help, etc. But before he ended things, he added "By the way, a quick rule of thumb is 'Never let anybody know you work here.' The reason being is that let's say... homeboy here (*points to me*) is out somewhere with his old lady or something, you know, at the movies or whatever. Anyway, some dudes might come up to and be like 'Hey, you work at (the club)?' And you're like "Yeah, so?," and the next thing you know...BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Next thing we know, you're coming in here next week all busted up, and we're asking 'Man, what happened?' and you're like '(*Eeyore voice*) I got jumped...'"

 

So yeah, even nowadays I'll be going out and people will randomly approach me and ask if I used to work at the club. I've gotten pretty good at straight lying to their faces, though on more than one occasion a drunken friend in tow will interrupt, stating loudly "WHAT'RE YOU TALKING ABOUT, JOE? YOU WORKED THERE FOR YEARS!" Luckily, this has never happened in front of people who might still hold a grudge.

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I never found anything particularly weird on anyone (knives were the usual thing), though I once did spot some coke in a women's purse before. Weirdest I heard from any of the other bouncers was a stun gun on one guy and another packing a fucking machete wrapped to his thigh.

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IT'S DRUNKEN BOUNCER STORY TIME! IT'S DRUNKEN BOUNCER STORY TIME!

 

WHERE YA'AT? WHERE YA'AT?

 

 

So anyway, my brother, my manager, the club's owner and couple of other bouncers used to work at a local club named Rocks Club back in the day. Now, the place I worked was pretty ghetto itself, but one of the guys' favorite past-times was comparing how ludicrous and insane the times they worked there had been (forewarning: tales regarding Rocks are as told to me by a bunch of drunken co-workers, so make of them what you will).

 

So anyway, the place was a pretty notorious spot for having tons of fights all of the time (it eventually got shot down because of the volume of calls to the police it produced), and thus the security staff eventually came to run much like a gang: guys were hired to security based largely on their ability to fuck someone up, and within 2 weeks of being hired, the other bouncers expected them to be able to prove themselves in what they called "Thunderdome." What TD was was essentially a dirt pit slightly below street level at the back of the club, largely obscured from above by bushes. Anyway, new guys were expected to take a sufficiently deserving and comparably sized troublemaker from the club into Thunderdome and pretty much kick the shit out of them. They apparently told them simply "You better fucking walk back inside before that guy does." Anyone who failed the test was pretty much told to make sure they didn't come back to work, unless they wanted to find themselves all alone the next time a fight broke out.

 

Anyway, the bouncers had a normal routine wherein they would arrive around 9:00, go to the bar, and be DRUNK by 9:30. The favored drink has been described as a "Rocks Club Special": a big red plastic cup filled with 151 and splash or two of Coke to help it go down a little easier (my manager preferred a variation where the Coke is replaced with a bit of Red Bull). A friend of mine made a humorous comparison to the myth that some vikings would down hallucinagens prior to a fight to work up a suitable "berserker rage." But anyway, supposedly this was practically necessaary to make the constant fights and owner's bitching tolerable. By the end of the night, the steady stream of fights would culminate in large groups of guys who would rush the bouncers in the parking lot after closing time, Braveheart style. An example diagram to help:

 

Eses Negros

OOO OOO

OOOOO OOOOO

 

 

 

 

 

OOOOO

OOOOO

Bouncers

 

Anyway, one group would try and rush the bouncers and try and jump them, and which point the bouncers would fight them off to the back of the parking lot. Then, another group would try to get into it with the bouncers as well, and have to beaten back. In worst case scenarios, the two groups would set aside their mutual animosity towards each other, regroup together, and make another rush a tthe club.

 

One such night group fight has since been referred to simply as "The Night 'B' Got Hit By a Car." A bunch of underage, spoiled college kids were the troublemakers that night, with the usual fight occuring at the end of the night. Anyway, the kids were taking a pretty severe ass-whipping (obviously not being as experienced in such fights as the gangbangers that would normally try), and so at one point one of the kids tried to event the odds, stupidly declaring "I'm GETTING MY GUN!!!" as he ran towards his car. Of course, this demanded an immediate response, and so either Big F or Big T (a pair of 6'5, 300+lbs. twin borthers), noticed the kid reach into his car from the passenger side (presumably to try and get a gun out of the glovebox, and so F or T simply slammed their entire body into the car door, crushing the kids shoulder and chest in betweeen the door and car, with a pretty audible scream and *CRUNCH!* sound accompanying it. meanwhile, B had managed to get seperated from the rest of security, becoming overzealous in beating the crap out of one kid in particular. After shoving him aside, he had a split second to realize headlights were approaching him from the left, and "stunned like a fucking deer," didn't have the reflexes to move before some kid hit him from the side with his car, if not especially badly, enough to knock hm for a loop. Another bouncer predictably responded with "B JUST GOT HIT BY A CAR!," at which point the other guys went to check on him as the kids ran to their cars and started peeling out. The lone exception was the would-be gunslinger, who had been taken away in a friend's truck. In retaliation for the whole "running a bouncer over with a car" thing, the bouncers proceeded to destroy the ever loving shit out of the car, breaking the doors off, slashing every tire and piece of upholstery, breaking every piece of glass, and pretty much anything else you can think of aside from smashing the engine or lighting it on fire. To the police they wold of course blame this on the kids, which the police had little reason (or motivation) to disbelieve. Someone later found out at the car actually belonged to some 18 year old girl's mother, who probably wasn;t too happy to find out her girl had been out drinking with a bunch of college idiots who got her car totaled.

 

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Nowadays when I got out I try to avoid going to clubs that have reputations for being rowdy. While most bouncers start off at least somewhat excited at the proposition of nightly fights, within about 6 months it just gets old, and the idea of a calm night of work is much more appealing. Of course, there are some exceptions to this rule (IE- crazy Lebs, Iranians, former USMC types, and general pitbull types like Stoney), and it doesn't make the stories when fights do occur any less entertaining to relate later on.

 

"Why y'all trying to act like it's illegal for me to kill a motherfucker?!"- My manager, while being restrained, after a patron pepper sprayed him in the face.

 

To answer the above question, I've always had a very loose commitment to the idea of being a fighter some day, but my lack of motivation and drive has really held me back from progressing as I'd like. One of the biggest hurdles I still need to overcome is getting into a true weight training routine, which is an absolute necessity nowadays.

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I must admit I stole a line from one of Tong's stories, the one with your brother flicking his smoke at the annoying bitch and her boyfriend.

 

"Nooooo, baby don't get crazy!!! They don't know who you are!!!" or something like that. Funny line to drop at random moments.

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Hahaha. It's cool. That's actually one we like to joke around with pretty often, especially as a humorous way to calm down a friend who's getting too heated. However, the last line HAS to be "They just don't know!"

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My brother was going to bring me into the fold at one he was working at last year, but things fell through. He mentioned that things are a lot different working at a titty bar than a normal club or pub, but never got too specific. He actually managed a Hustler club out in Redlands for a few years, and was pretty successful at it, and often shared general tips about his management style, though much of it was pretty strip club specific (like how to emotionally destroy a dancer before coming back to keep the blame on her, but giving her a chance to make it up to you).

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No Holds Barred with Eddie Goldman is an interesting listen. He is pretty anti-UFC mostly because of the way they do business. He is pretty much an MMA purist and has issues with White and the Fertitas bros.

 

He often can come off as a whiner that just wants to bash UFC cause they are #1 right now, but once you can get past that schtick, he definately makes a lot of good points and is knowledgable about the sport.

 

You can find his podcast on podcastalley.com or on his website.

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