Drunk Valet

Below is an excerpt from my book — a mostly true story about my days as a strip club bartender in Austin, Texas where I mostly broke shit, drank a ton of booze, sometimes poured drinks, and always hit on my favorite manager.


We were passing around my handy dandy breathalyzer and comparing blood alcohol levels when the valet guy strolled in early for his shift.

Valet guys came and went just as much, if not more often, than the girls.

I wasn’t sure of his name but it hadn’t been long enough for me to attempt to remember or care, much less ask.

He ordered a shot from me and lingered around watching us take turns blowing into the device.

It didn’t take long for him to ask him if he could try the breathalyzer.

After which, he held up the device and showed me the screen that read .42. Mind you, the legal limit is .08. I looked at him in confusion for a moment.

“Well, if alcohol is fresh on your breath it can mess it up,” I offered an explanation. He asked for cranberry juice and then tried again.

The results remained the same. To say I was horrified was an understatement.

“I haven’t slept yet. I’ve been partying all night,” he boasted before walking off.

I sent Thomas a quick text to inform him of the situation and attached a picture of my boobs. Just kidding. I should have though.

One time Thomas was next to me in traffic and I flashed him a titty. True story.

“Where is he?” Thomas appeared moments later.

I shrugged my shoulders and he let out a groan before fleeing the scene to deal with the current drama at hand.

I seized this opportunity to slip out the back door to enjoy a private smoke break.

After taking a couple of drags, I noticed one of the cars in the parking lot had its driver-side door wide open.

On my way over to further investigate, I realized it was the valet guy who was now passed out in the front seat of, presumably (and hopefully), his car.

His mouth was wide open and drool spilled onto his chin. I nudged him a bit, startling him awake and he began screaming at me.

“Back off you whore!” he spat.

He swayed over and then settled in a slump, remaining in and out of consciousness as he slowly started to lean out of the door and his head inched closer and closer to the pavement.

Finally, he face-planted into the concrete but the dude didn’t even flinch.

I scanned the parking lot for help and located the bathroom attendant as he stepped out of his car.

Alas, the night crew was beginning to assemble. I summoned him over.

“Should we move his face?” Bathroom Guy asked me as we looked at Valet Guy who was face down on the asphalt.

Bathroom Guy knelt down and started to gently roll Valet Guy onto his back.

The cut on his forehead didn’t look so bad but there was some bloodshed.

Valet Guy’s eyes sprung open again and shoved Bathroom Guy off him.

He jumped up to his feet and the forces of gravity caused the blood to start pouring out of the forehead wound.

After carefully tapping his forehead with his fingertips and observing the blood, he swiftly pulled out a pocket knife and started waving it at us.

“You wanna lose a kidney, little girl?” he snarled at me.

Bathroom Guy placed his arm in front of me and stepped forward to heroically protect me.

Valet Guy shuffled back and forth on his feet.

I guess he was trying to look like a badass prepping for action but he really just looked like he had to take a whizz.

“Do you even know where your kidney is?” Bathroom Guy questioned him.

I then realized I didn’t even know where a kidney was located and apparently, neither did Valet Guy. He hesitantly pointed to his midsection and slowly moved his finger around a general region while avoiding eye contact with the two of us.

I began to laugh at him, feeling more confident with the protection and anatomical knowledge of Bathroom Guy.

With a little bit of convincing, Valet Guy dropped the knife on the ground.

“Idiot!” I took a jab at him with my words and not a weapon before dramatically storming off and heading back inside.

“Hey, thanks!” I stopped just before I opened the door and turned to look back at Bathroom Guy, “What’s your name?”

“Terrance,” he called back.

“Terrance, I’m Forest. Nice to meet you!” I smiled before re-entering my place of employment.

Thomas shot me a “Where the hell have you been?” look when I popped back inside and he told me he couldn’t find Valet Guy anywhere.

“He’s in the parking lot. He passed out in his car and then minorly cracked his head open-”

“How do you minorly crack your head open? Is he okay?” Thomas interrupted me.

“Well, Thomas. I don’t care if he’s okay because he pulled a knife on me!”

There was no point in further explaining because Thomas was already halfway out the front door to the parking lot.

I hurried around the bar to follow him and witness the action when I ran into a giant forearm blocking my path like a damn gate. I looked up at Dick, the club’s General Manager.



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