A Salute to the Bar Room Tough Guy

This entry is cordially dedicated to the upstanding reveler who cut in front of me in the bathroom line last night and told me that I would have to leave.

A toast, ladies and gentlemen, to the Bar Room Tough Guy!

Mild-mannered and somewhat diminutive junior sales rep by day, the Bar Room Tough Guy makes a scintillating transformation when the working day is done. Having crushed upwards of two entire Natty Ices, and perhaps ingesting a Jager bomb while pointing at someone, our vertically challenged hero dons his best striped shirt and makes the bold decision to drive himself to one of the finer overpriced, faux-Irish establishments in downtown Providence. The one that isn't Ri-Ra.

Like Superman emerging from the phone booth, this broseph has turned into the Bar Room Tough Guy. No longer feeling constrained by his 5'5", 147lb frame, BRTG suddenly takes over the room. Usually with an army of his newfound bros at his side, the ones he met in line, BRTG pounds his tropical drink and hits the dance floor. He knows he can totally bag any hottie out there.

With the babes already his for the taking (he is wearing AXE, after all), he proceeds to order more fruity liquid courage from the blonde hostess who totally wants him. He leans in to whisper something real classy like, "I'll give you the tip at my place later", but the blasting club music drowns out his romantic proposal and, like two ships passing in the night, the star-crossed almost-pair go their seperate ways. Whatever, man, she was a skank.

Notorious B.I.G. comes on the sound system and makes all right with the world again. Our young hero identifies with Biggie Smalls' tale of growing up as a poor black man in the inner city. He feels the bass and busts an appropriately awesome hip gyration that causes several ladies to walk away, knowing that they are overmatched.

Unfortunately, his romantic trists are put on hold when someone is suddenly thrust into him. In a room roughly 100 people past the fire code, Bar Room Tough Guy knows that this douche who just brazenly spilled his drinktini wanted to start something, and he is gonna pay for that shit. Lurching forward, BRTG brings a mighty right hook that misses by mere yards as he crashes to the floor (which he totally meant to do). That juice-spilling jerkoff ran away, and if he knows what's good for him, he won't come back.

Unaware of the pink stains running down the front of his half-unbuttoned striped shirt, he decides it's time to hit the mens room. Whereas most would wait in line, our John Wayne Jr VIPs himself past the queue to the door, throwing it open and tossing the surprised occupant out of the way. Dude's probably a loser anyway; he can move. As he turns to issue a menacing threat, Bar Room Tough Guy fumbles with his zipper, trying to locate the very body part he is compensating for.

Although tonight ends by falling out the door and most likely falling asleep on the hood of your car, we admire the tenacity and stubborness that has somehow allowed your type to overcome natural selection. We raise our glasses of slightly more respectable beers in salute to you, bro.