Jimmy’s Pub & Restaurant
Do you enjoy being insulted? How about bullied? Humiliated? If you answered “Yes” to any of these questions, then by all means, make your way to Jimmy’s Pub & Restaurant for all your weirdo masochistic needs!
I came for my friend Melissa K.’s birthday on a Friday. Mel is one of my best friends, and I helped plan this party. It was gonna be a great night. Cheap beer and well drinks, dartboard, shuffleboard, this one arcade game where you shoot deer with these heavy plastic rifles. We invited all our friends and I went out and bought party hats and balloons and everything. I put a lot of energy into this party, and after a pretty rough patch in my personal life, I had been looking forward to it all week.
Let me just say right now that the bouncer had it in for me from the beginning. I came in with Mel and we were both giggling because we were excited for the party, and he gave me the dirtiest look when he checked my ID. I have no idea what that was about, except maybe he doesn’t like Asians, or maybe he thought I was drunk? (I mean for full disclosure Mel lives a few blocks away and we pre-gamed, but only like one or two drinks.) Anyway, I was caught off guard and for some reason I said something to him like, “Is your name Chad? You look like a Chad.” I was trying to either make light conversation or needle him for giving me a death glare. I honestly can’t remember which it was. He scowled though. Not a Chad.
Anyway, when we got inside, a lot of our friends were already there, including Matt B. and this chick I don’t recognize who had her hands all around him. I mentioned that my personal life had been a little rough recently. Well let’s just say, like long story very short, that it had something to do with Matt. And now here he was with this not even very hot girl dressed and made up like some kind of hipster clown. I didn’t want to say hi first, which I would think was expected, but then he also didn’t say hi or introduce this girl, which was really rude.
I decided, though, that I was gonna have fun no matter what. Mel figured out what was going on right away and the two of us started hitting the bar with some force. There was this wheel you could spin to get free drinks and we won some Jager bombs, and then the bartender (Sam! you are the best, unlike Chad!) comped us a couple rounds because it was Mel’s birthday and because I told him the whole story about me and Matt and he had a similar situation with this girl in his building.
There was definitely about a thirty- or forty-minute window where I was blissfully happy. The bar seemed like a warm, cozy, welcoming place, and I felt this great, spilling love for all my friends. I stopped walking near Matt to give him opportunities to say hi to me and just enjoyed the soft lapping of booze waves all across my body.
Then all of a sudden I started feeling bad. Mel and I went to the bathroom and she held my hair while I puked. She was in bad shape too, though, and I don’t think she did the best job keeping my hair out of the torrent and the toilet. Once I got sick, my mood crashed too and I started crying over the toilet and saying I was sorry I ruined her birthday. I mean I am not saying I behaved like a saint or anything, okay?
As soon as we came out of the bathroom, Chad was waiting for me. He was a big guy with a pig nose and thin lips, and he looked at me with a snarling smirk that showed a wet yellow glimmer of teeth. Smug as hell.
He told me I was too drunk and had to leave, and when I begged to differ, he raised his voice, so of course, I had to raise mine. Things escalated quickly. I was really angry, and I guess I went off on him—I’ll admit, not my best moment. (Mel says I shouted, “How do you feel about your life choices, Chad?”) But then he grabbed me by the wrist and yanked me toward the door and I fell face first on the floor.
Everyone was watching at this point, I think, and I was lying on something wet, wearing a dress short enough that I’m sure I flashed the whole crowd while I was down. Chad’s hand was still around my wrist, and he was hissing at me to get up. I couldn’t. Suddenly all the smells from the bar collected into one arrow of scent and filled my nostrils with vodka fumes that made me gag, then vomit all over the ground.
When I looked up, Matt was walking over to offer me a hand. There was nothing I wanted to see less. I batted him away and followed Chad out of the pub. He insisted on holding onto my elbow like it would detach from my arm if he let go.
I spent the night on Mel’s couch and slept off the booze, but I will never sleep off the humiliation. Screw Chad and Jimmy’s Pub & Restaurant. I won’t be going back again.
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Steph Cha is the author of Follow Her Home, a feminist hardboiled detective novel. She lives in Los Angeles and mothers a basset hound.