Woof.
Sunday 6 May 2007
Couple of pretty big things happened while I was away.
Big Thing #1. It seems that the Incident Report I spent half an hour writing up early Thursday morning somehow, between then and when the powers-that-be arrived at 9am, disappeared without a trace. Hence, nobody read up about Psycho and his missus, and so Psycho and his missus were not only not banned, they tried to get into the main complex not once, not twice, but three times, before ultimately the police were called. See, Psycho made the mistake of threatening to kill the head of security - i.e., my boss. That shit never goes down well. Better, his missus went ballistic and threatened to have Psycho kill everybody, too. Right in front of their kids. What a pair of cunts.
Big Thing #2. Look away now if you love animals. Yesterday, it seems, two little old ladies were walking their dogs out of the park - and we're talking the tiny little dogs that little old ladies typically like to walk - when without warning one of the women trips, loses her balance, and falls on her dog. Killing it instantly. In fact, she fell at such an angle she almost beheaded it. She scooped the unfortunate creature into her arms and walked some fifty yards before being discovered by security. "It's still alive," she said, "Look, it's moving." And it was. Alas, it was just the twiching nerves of a long-dead canine, its head being held on by skin and hair. That's a holiday she'll never forget. Be fair; at her age, that's probably a good thing.
As for tonight... well, I know I say this shit every fucking Saturday, but believe me this was the busiest I've ever seen the place. Absofuckinglutely heaving. So busy, even the boss himself worked the 6-2 shift, which is unheard of. And even the fucking restaurant bar didn't close until 1.30am. And to be honest, it all went like a dream. The football security boys were even polite. There was eight of them in total, and they caused nary a bother. The only item of note was discovering yet another patron - this time, a bloke - sitting down in a cubicle full of his own vomit. To his credit, he managed to pull himself together enough to go back into the bar, retrieve his jacket, and say goodbye to the people he was with, all without them seeming to notice he was (a) shitfaced and (b) reeking of puke.
Quite anticlimactic, really. Disappointing, even. I really thought somebody was going to die tonight. I suppose there's still time.
posted by Sheamus @ 3:30 am
