For the most part, people seem to value their lives. Some feel that they are really important and that their existence is completely necessary, while others like to live, but are not worried about their eventual disappearance. I never really value my own life, although if you read my previous blog, you might think that I walk around with a gun in my mouth. But friends, there is a clear difference between acknowledging that you have not achieved anything and not wanting to have more time to try to get things done. Fortunately, a couple of weeks ago, I was able to see what kind of price I put on my own livelihood.
It was just another Thursday night. Because I can’t put my college days behind me, I found the need to go to a local watering hole. Like most college kids, Thursday night is the time to usher in the coming weekend by drinking copious amounts of alcohol and convincing yourself that even though you have to work the next day, it’s Friday and for some reason, that means it doesn’t count. .
When I first moved to Los Angeles in the summer of 2004, one of my favorite pastimes was going to the Champs sports bar on Thursday nights for some team trivia and 50-year-old delights. Unfortunately, the champions ended their trivia night leaving a huge hole in my social schedule. About a month ago, we learned that the champions had reinstated their trivia night. So, without much hesitation, I decided it was time to return to my solid ground that filled my life with purpose. Play trivia, win a $60 bar tab, then get a free hammer blow. But tonight, it wouldn’t be like the trivia nights he’d come to love…
“We haven’t had trivia night in three weeks.” That phrase from Ronda the bartender hurt deeply. Apparently, the start of football season marked the end of trivia night. But since we were all there, we decided to hang out anyway, order some food, drink some pitchers, and play some bar sports. The courses may not draw an A-list crowd, but they will bring A-variety hepatitis. It does, however, feature one of the most exciting games in the history of the planet, shuffle board. A long wooden table covered in a sawdust-like substance that acted as a lubricant to slide steel disks back and forth. This was really a game for the guy who can’t participate in competitive athletics, that’s where we came in. It quickly became an obsession amongst the group and like all things pure we found a way to fill it with swearing, swearing and sexually suggestive language. It was that game that we were playing, laughing, shouting and drinking. So, it happened…
“Oh, come on!” I had just slipped my shot right into the gutter, a true amateur move, bush league crap. Then a girl screamed and ran through the bar and out the front door. I instantly felt bad because I selfishly thought that she had provoked the young woman with my outburst. If only he had been right. Quickly behind the fleeing woman were two men, both wearing ski masks and holding guns. Now my first thought was, “ok, whose birthday is it?” It seemed very practical in a bar like Champs for someone to organize a stupid event like that to celebrate a birthday or an anniversary. Again, I wish I had been right and the two men weren’t escorting on a cake with candles, but instead brought a gift of anger, profanity, and the threat of violence.
“Everyone on the ground! Nobody (expletive) move!” Yes, they were serious. Instantly, my three friends and I ducked behind the shuffleboard table. Now I’m on my knees with my head down looking at my friends Tom, Osa and Steve. We sent each other looks of “is this really happening?” Yes it was. Lucky for us, between us and the thieves was a long counter that ran the length of the shuffleboard table and cut the bar into too many rooms. This kept us out of sight of thieves while we were on the ground. Once I realized that we were dealing with a serious situation, I began to think that the thieves did not know that on the other side of the counter there were 4 young, but unhealthy men in their 20s. I thought they would turn the corner, be surprised by our presence and all hell would break loose. So I did the only thing I could think of to keep them from panicking, I hid my wallet. Yeah that’s right, for some reason I thought, “Well, they’re not going to get my cash or credit cards,” so I slid my wallet under the shuffleboard table so it was hidden between the counter and the table. match. Then I looked over the shuffleboard table so I could see the thieves; It was half an effort to make myself known, half an effort to get a look at these thugs.
The only guy had a huge handgun. It looked like something Eugene Tackleberry from the Police Academy might have as a weapon. It was so big and shiny silver that my first impression was that it was fake. Then my second impression was, who cares if it’s fake, the Champs sports bar, which was probably full of crooks anyway, wasn’t worth a bullet in the chest.
We’ve all seen movies where people find themselves in situations like this. And we like to ask ourselves, “How would you respond in a situation like that?” We like to think we’d be like Arnold or Chuck Norris and take down the bad guys. That’s what I thought, and that’s what I did. I slipped to the entrance of the two rooms, I knew that if I made one of my friends distract me, I could catch them!
REALITY: I knelt on the floor hoping they wouldn’t come into our section of the bar. I was an idiot and realized that if they came from person to person and I didn’t have my wallet with me, it was going to cause more trouble than good. And let’s be honest, there’s not a lot of room left on my credit card, and there sure isn’t anything in my checking account on the old debit card. So why in the name of Christ’s undershirt was I trying to hide my wallet and cause trouble? I went to bed and hoped that everything would be over soon.
Steve and Tom stood up and announced their presence, the thief told them to stay put, I waited for him to turn his back on them and then I lunged. It dropped like a sack of potatoes when my 6253 230 lb. The frame slammed into him, I turned his gun on him and the gun whipped him unconscious!
REALITY: MAN, are these guys ever going to go away? Just take the cash from the register and go! I thought about reaching for my cell phone to dial 911, but I didn’t know if they would turn the corner and see me dial, it didn’t seem like a worthy risk. I mean, after all, they didn’t have a woman in their sights, did they?
The other thief has a girl in his sights. He grabbed her and put the gun to her head. I told her that the jig was over, that she just get out of the bar and run, leaving her dead partner behind. That’s when he pushed the woman out of the way and raised the gun at me and fired a shot. I anticipated this move and fell to my knees. Her bullet entered the popcorn machine and caused an explosion of kernels and hot oil not seen since my tragic circus mishap in 1989. I returned fire and shot him in the knee and shoulder. He didn’t want to kill the man, that would be an easy way out for him. I was going to serve time for this injustice!
REALITY: “Okay, everyone, they’re gone” We get up and look around. The patrons of the bar were a bit shaken, but the only physical injury was an older girl getting hit on the head by one of the criminals. Soon the police arrived and interviewed us all. We told the police the whole story, their response “well if you didn’t think they saw you why didn’t you drop them?” I politely told the officer that I wasn’t risking death to save $200 from the field record. He understood. The owner showed up and that’s when I felt the most traumatic pain of all. “Everyone with an account is on the house, no one pays tonight!” I had paid my bill 10 minutes before the thieves showed up! (insert expletive) I couldn’t even get free booze from the ordeal, but at least I had my health.
The police arrived and congratulated me for doing a great service to the community. Apparently these men had visited many places, but walking into my bar was the end of the road for their hacking operation. I received accommodation and an award from the city, as well as being interviewed by local newspapers and news stations. My story was going to be a bestseller and a must-see Hollywood movie, they said. My life had become valuable in the shadow of this story.
FACT: My life did not flash before my eyes. He wasn’t even really nervous during the entire ordeal. I was wondering whether or not West Virginia covered the extension that night. After talking to the police we hung out in the parking lot. Ronda said the thieves took $80 in tips from her. The four of us put up some money to replace that sum; after all, she’s the one with the gun to her face most of the time. It wasn’t a Hollywood ending, which is ironic since it happened in Hollywood. Instead, it ended with Steve and I sitting on the couch, still a little nervous, but not stressed. We had a couple of cocktails to calm down and laughed at some of the moments of the experience.
No, I’m not a hero. It never really occurred to me to even try to be one. I briefly thought about how we could stop them, but you know what? Who the hell cares if they’re ripping off Champs? They robbed us by not having trivia! Take his money, what do I care. The place is a hole in the wall! Even Bruce Willis would have let the criminals do their thing. I suppose that by choosing that course of action, or no action at all, I discovered that I place some value on my own life. It’s not much, but it’s something.
I still drank the following Thursday. I won’t let them determine me from that. The day I let a couple of So-Cal thugs, who committed the most clichéd robbery in history, stop me from drinking, is the same day I recognize Alabama as a state in the union. The thieves may have forced me to keep my head down, but they’ll never stop my glass from sinking!
