Bluesman Mike Lindner Wrote:Great story, Steve! I can think of a coupla moments like that. I tend to hang out in low dives. Jeez...15 years ago or so? I was chilling me gums at Mike's Cafe, down on 85th and 1st, when a dude walks in and says to Patty, behind the stick, brandishing his gun, "All I want is the money, ain't nobody gonna get hurt!" "Let's ask these guys first," says Patty. Clownboy found himself facing 6 cops with their own iron ready for action.
And last year, at Marty O'Briens' Irish Pub, I was mindin' me own business, when an arrogant fool, for no reason, pushed me off my stool. I bounced up, ready to rogue. Old Sarge (another cop bar) grabbed the chump in a grip not to be broken, and said, "Mike's one of the boys here. You =will= apologize and get the fuck out!" The fool did, and did. Nahama, the owner, placed a frosty lager in front of me. "Michael, on me. For your exasperation."
Here's a story or two for ya. ( it will also give you an idea of the personality of Tina, the mother of my child.) These are things Gia would never do.
Tina Story # 1
I have been hanging out in the goth/punk scene in philly for quite a few years. Nowadays I don't dress it, since I kinda outgrew alot of it but I still love the music and know a damn good bit of people through it.
One sat night we're leaving Ulana's, at 2nd and Bainbridge and Tina, who was a punk growing up but now tries more hippie-fied, is on quite a bender. Shes beyond three sheets to the wind. Her ship is driftin to the rocks, my man.
Well, we're walking up south, and are coming up on what was the Gap (where they always station cops on fri and sat nights). There are four yuppie girls walking in front of us. Walking slow. Tina says something about the one girl looking like a yuppie whore. The girl makes the mistake of saying something back.
What came next was a blur, literally. Tina throws out a punch catching the girl in mid sentence. She starts to go down, blood flying from her face. As the girl is still falling Tina throws another two punches completely wrecking the girls face.
I look over and see four cops walking over. I grab Tina from behind and start dragging her off. She breaks free, yells "You bled on my shoes bitch!" and kicks her in the ribs. I grab her again, yelling to the cops something along the lines of "Please just let her go! I gotta go home with her!"
They laugh and tell me to get her the f*ck outta there. Ever since the south street riot, during which I can proudly say I decked a cop and more than a few civilians just so I could escape, the cops have been wary of any type of incident involving them at that corner, which is where it started.
That night ended with her deciding to beat the hell outta me on 95 while doing close to that in MPH to get home. I had to knock her out cold so that we could live. She thanked me the next day.
Tina Story # 2
We were in a yuppie bar in Mannyunk, looking for a change of scenery. I hadn't been in there in months since my wannabe-goth-yuppie ex and I split. It was one of fav bars. Well, my habit has always been befriend the bartender and if possible the owner so I get free drinks. This was one of those places.
We're in a corner, with tina on a stool, her drink sitting on a counter jutting out from the wall at about stomach level. I gotta pee. There is a massive line for the bathroom which I proceed to get into.
Twenty minutes later I come back and there are four wannabe gangsta white guys in front of Tina. They're laughing. The leader keeps bumping his ass into Tina on purpose.
She sees me, gives me a
BIG grin and kicks the leader in the kidney as hard as she can. He doubles over, and spins around. I am immediately between Tina and Vanilla Ice.
He starts shouting into my face about learning to control my bitch. Now there are five of them, and one of me. The whole bar is watching. Now these days I don't look like much. I am 6'4 and 170lbs. I look like a stick. But I didn't always look this way, and when I didn't I was trained on how to kill a man without blinking. They don't know this.
The leader is still going on and on, his homeboys cheerin him on.
"Dude, just let it go." I say, knowing it won't calm him down.
Eminems lil brother still keeps goin, his finger wavin in my face in what i presume to be ghetto sign language for 'Please fuck me up'. I am more than happy to oblige, but I give him one more chance.
"Dude, just let it go. Its not worth it."
He flips out, his hand going even faster in my face.
"Dude..." I say...
Now remember that little shelf along the wall? He does.
My left hand grabs his waving fingers and snaps them back, while my right grabs his shoulder and slams him downward onto the shelf, catching him under his ribs.
I hear some snaps, and he goes down SCREAMING. His boys are in shock. The owner, Rob comes up ( he was standing a few feet away at the bar watching) with two massive bouncers, more are coming down the steps.
Rob yells at them to get out and not come back. The others ignore their still crying leader and say "c'mon rob! WTF?! She started this!". The bouncers grab mister broken ribs and drag him out the door. His friends follow.
Rob reaches behind the bar and hands me a drink shaking his head. Turns out they WERE regulars. The rest of the night drinks were on every other patron of the bar, who kept coming up and saying how cool it was. I never said that if not for those bouncers I woulda been in trouble. Two of them maybe, not not all of them.
I love Tina, but someday ( more likely night) she is gonna get me killed or arrested.