True story from the line outside the bar this past weekend.
There was a line on Saturday night. Nothing out of the ordinary, right? It was just before 9 p.m., so maybe it was a little earlier than usual for people to be waiting in line, but hey, it was busy downtown on Saturday with the Craft Brew Expo and other things happening.
A group of girls was discussing the reason for the line, and someone else informed them that everyone was waiting because the bar was at capacity, and it was one in, one out.
Apparently, one of the girls didn’t buy this explanation.
“No, it’s not really one in, one out.”
She then informed the others around her that she works in the bar business, and she knew that the bar staff was making everyone wait in line so that it would look like the bar was busy.
She doesn’t work in OUR bar, and we promise, that’s not the way it works here.
We want you inside the bar spending money, plain and simple. Why would we make you wait outside if you could be inside spending money, drinking our drinks, and having a good time instead? That’s silly.
The truth of the matter is that our legal capacity, as determined by fire codes, is 49 people. Forty nine, people. That’s not very many. And we can get slapped with a hefty fine if we’re over that number and the fire department doesn’t like it.
So that, friends, is why you’re in line– because we don’t want to endanger your safety, and we don’t want to pay a fine.
Not because of some misguided attempt to manipulate our friends, customers or the general public.
And for those of you who patiently wait in line and don’t harass our staff about it, thank you!
We don't recommend bringing a fake ID to our bar. And we really don't recommend it when you're three days away from your 21st birthday.
So the other day, a couple came to the door. The doorguy carded them, as always, and the girl pulled out her ID.
The doorguy didn't think it was legitimate, but he asked Dave for a second opinion. Dave knew it wasn't her. I'm not going to tell you how he knew it was a fake ID, as I don't want to give away their secret tricks, but it was fairly obvious. The doorguy declined admission to the young lady.
Surprisingly, she was upset. And proceeded to encourage the doorguy to call the police to confirm that her ID was real. (Which we have done and will do; don't try to call our bluff.)
What she didn't realize, though, was that the guy she was with (boyfriend? friend? who knows) was standing behind her, shaking his head "no" at the doorguy. As in, "don't call the police."
And then, as she continued to insist that they call the police, the guy pulled her back and told her that she shouldn't take that risk when she's three days away from her 21st birthday. Uh, probably not.
Oh, the things we hear in line. I always say I'm going to go hang out in line at the bar sometime just so I can get more funny stories for this blog. Dave's little sister (yes, she waits in line) heard some good ones the Saturday before Halloween.
Apparently some young ladies were disgruntled by the fact they were stuck in line. One of them was overheard saying "These boobs are too good to wait in line. I'm too hot to wait in line." And supposedly she was planning to show the doorguy her chest, since of course that would convince him to let her in the bar instead of making her wait. I don't think she actually followed through, not that it would have mattered.
Entitled ladies (and gentlemen) of the world, please understand that you're not waiting in line because we like having a mob of people harass the doorguy about why they can't come in. This isn't a club in L.A. where the common folk are kept behind the velvet rope and the "hot" girls are allowed to waltz right in the door.
There are things called fire codes and building capacities, and a little thing like a thousand-dollar fine encourages us to obey those rules. You're in line because we have a legal number of people that we're allowed to have in the bar at one time.
Trust me, we'd love to let you all in the bar at once so you can spend your money.
In the meantime, please keep providing the other people in line with some laughs while you loudly scheme about how you're going to bribe the doorguy. Inevitably those stories find their way back to us.
Some of our friends left the bar one night. Sober friend was leading drunk friend to her car so sober friend could drive drunk friend home.
They turned the corner and saw a girl lying near the street. An ambulance had pulled up. Apparently, the girl fell or passed out and her friends called 911 (that's the right thing to do, people).
Our drunk friend exclaimed as they walked by, "I may be drunk, but I'm not ambulance drunk!"
And that's a good thing.
It's amazing the funny things you can hear just by standing outside the Sandbar for a mere five minutes.
Last Saturday night, I was waiting outside for Dave. A trio of college-age-ish kids walked up to the patio and stopped.
"You go first," one guy told the lone girl in the group. I'm not sure of his reasoning, maybe he thought the doorguy would be more open to questions from a girl?
"Tell them we've got fifteen people coming," he continued.
She kind of laughed and the three walked towards the door.
Then, one of the guys mentioned the cover charge.
The girl became indignant.
"What!" she exclaimed. "I don't pay cover at bars."
And just then, the door swung open as Dave came out, trapping the girl between the door and the wall. Don't worry, she wasn't hurt. But it was kind of funny. And good timing.
Karma seems to be in full force at the Sandbar. Read our last experience with it here.
This is a guest blog from Heather, one of our Friday night bartenders on the early shift. This particular event happened on Friday the 13th, which may or may not explain both the customer's bizarre behavior and Heather's reaction to it.
Now we all have our pet peeves in life and bartenders are no exception. Sometimes, we get cranky. It happens to all of us now and again. A recent Friday night event made me a bit more than cranky as I actually yelled at someone.
This guy was in on a busy and crowded Friday night with his buddies. He starts making facial expressions like he is going to be sick. Then he starts making full body motions like he is going to throw up on the guy next to him. He was close to the door, so I in turn yelled Ã¢â‚¬Å“Get out, take it outsideÃ¢â‚¬Â while pointing to the door. We certainly didn't have time to clean up vomit on this busy night.
He puffs out his chest and peacocks on over to the bar saying Ã¢â‚¬Å“What? CouldnÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t you tell I was joking?Ã¢â‚¬Â as he made the same apparently fake vomiting motions towards me. No, I couldnÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t and I didnÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t want to have to clean it up either. Yuck.
I get that sometimes people just donÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t know any better but come on! Besides, it is never a good idea to intentionally make the bartender mad- or to throw up in the bar.