A Visit from the Cast of Jersey Shore

Like I’ve mentioned in past posts, we have a lot of out-of-towners that come to the bar. They know it’s the “hottest” spot in town, so they come with their friends and have a good time after doing whatever they were doing that brought them to Farmville. Wrestlers, Navy guys, fire fighters, people from other countries, you name it, but this past Tuesday we had a group of guys all the way from JOIRZEY.

There was a group of five wife-beater wearing, hair gelled, tattooed New Jersey-ites (some find “guido” offensive)  in the bar on a Tuesday night around 4 p.m., playing pool and being rather routy. The bartender and I, the only two employees working, were not anticipating having to tell someone to quiet down when the sun hadn’t even gone down yet. These greasers were the only people in the bar, so they had our undivided attention.

The oldest New Jersey-ite was going up to the bar and getting two Coors Lights at a time. We didn’t ID the whole group at the door because the door guy doesn’t get there until later, but the bartender was obviously IDing anyone who ordered a drink. Then he started to notice that with the two beers the guy was ordering, he would drink one and put the other on the back table. Every five minutes or so, when he thought the bartender wasn’t watching, the mini NJ-ite would take a sip of the beer. Silly.

Drinking in that bar underage is just stupid in the first place. But doing it when the sun is still up and you’re the only group in the bar? Seriously?

Even better, they argue with the bartender like they’re right and he’s wrong.

Tip: If you’re going to get kicked out, don’t argue with the bartender. That eliminates the chances of you being welcomed back in the future.

“You just uh nerd, go sit in a cornah or sumthin’!” big NJ-ite yelled at the bartender. We looked at each other, puzzled and shocked by the weakness of the exclaimed insult. And then it happened.

The bartender raised his arm into Fist Pumping Mode. He’s doing it.

“Get … out … of … my … bar!” he said, in rhythm to his fist pumping. Without a word, the grease balls left and the bartender and I shared tears of laughter.

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