Bad Bar Behavior

We love watching the World Series in a bar. Hearing a room full of people involuntarily groan when plays go wrong assures us that we’re not alone in our slavish devotion to the Red Sox. But while most bar patrons make us happy, there’s always one group who works our last nerve. Unfortunately, we were seated near the worst offenders this weekend.

Bad Bar Patron #1: Shovey McShovesalot

Boston Daily caught Game 3 at the Independent, a favorite Somerville haunt. As we sipped a Brooklyn Lager and watched the ass-whupping unfold, the group next to us at the bar grew exponentially larger and drunker. One woman body-slammed a burly man into our friend without an apology. Shortly after that, the burly man pushed our friend again.

After she explained to him that she’s a small person and that he had shoved her twice, burly guy’s companion rolled her eyes and said, “Welcome to Boston. The women here are rude.”

In a crowded bar, people expect to get jostled a bit. But a simple “excuse me” goes a long way in getting people to forgive the intrusion, especially after a hit that belongs on a hockey rink.

Bad Bar Patron #2 and #3: The Borderline Jinx and the Disinterested College Kids

1193684875Last night, we headed to Beer Works to watch what we hoped would be a sweep of the World Series. On the whole, the crowd was a good one– enthusiastic, but not in a drunken car-flipping sort of way. Except for one guy, who carried a broom into the bar. It was cute before the game started, but when he started vigorously waving it when Jacoby Ellsbury scored the first run, we got nervous. When the Rockies got within a run and he kept waving it, we lost our patience.

“If we lose this game,” we said, “we’re going to shove that broom up his ass.”

He shortly made friends with a table full of college kids that sat next to us, most of them wearing Boston University hoodies and no Sox swag. Instead of talking about the game, the kids talked about Southie.

“If you’re Irish,” one of the hoodie-wearing guys told a girl, “You should go to Southie. That’s where the Irish are.”

The girl took a sip of her Smirnoff Ice. “Isn’t that, like, the ghetto?”

As the college kids continued their painful conversation, the rest of the bar clapped wildly as the game crept closer to its end. Patrons kept their eyes glued to the televisions, and the last strike was barely in Jason Varitek’s glove before the bartender played “Dirty Water” and patrons jumped onto the tables and chairs, hugging and high-fiving each other. While we hate dealing with people who behave badly at bars, it was worth it to celebrate with a few hundred fellow fans.