Usually the Berg is the most mellow bar on the face of the earth. Or at least the most mellow bar in Juneau that I would set foot into. Usually.
I've kicked people out on a few occasions. There's the guy who may or may not suffer from schizophrenia. There was a very belligerent Ted. There was that guy who smelled so strongly of alcohol I nearly got drunk from being within 10 feet of him. And then there was this guy...
This guy has been passing through the bar and the hotel for at least a week or so now. Sometimes people enter the hotel through the bar, though I frown upon it. My frown does little to discourage.
He's tried to bum a cigarette or a lighter a time or two. Every time he passes through the bar he is wearing exactly the same clothing, looking disheveled and he walks like he either has a bit of a limp or like he's really messed up on alcohol and or drugs.
I consider myself somewhat lenient with the residents of the hotel. Sometimes I'll pour them sodas if they are polite. Usually in a to-go cup so they can take them back up to their rooms. Otherwise I'd kick them out without even allowing them a drink.
Tonight this guy walked up to the bar, where I was chatting with Mr. CAP, and about knocked us out with his smell. It was strong. It was presumably body odor, though no body I've smelled has smelled quite so pungent. I asked if I could help him.
"I'll take a cherry coke."
"Well, we don't have any cherries."
"Well, don't you have grenadine?"
I went into the back room where we have some plastic cups, the cups I use to get rid of the smelly and vagrant types without straight up kicking them out. I poured a coke, added some grenadine, and handed it to him.
"Where'd you get this cup?"
"At a store, probably."
"No, where'd you get this cup?"
"In the back room."
"Why you get it from the back room?"
"Because it wasn't in the front room."
"No. Why'd you get this cup from the back."
"So you can take it with you when you go up to your room, which I am asking you to do."
"Look, you need to go to your room, you stay at the hotel, right?"
"Well go to your room or out the door, wherever. You can't be here."
(and I'm only writing what I could understand, he muttered a bunch of other stuff that was completely incomprehensible.)
"Would you like an honest answer? It's the smell."
"The smell emitting from your body."
"You must be used to it."
"I don't smell."
"Sir. It doesn't matter. You need to leave."
"Can you describe the smell?"
"I need you to leave. Now."
"Sir. If you do not leave, I will call the police and have you forcibly removed."
"Why I gotta leave?"
"Because I said so."
Mr. CAP, meanwhile, has been interjecting here and there, prodding him to go, using logic.
"You should probably just go, man, it'll be better that way. She's serious."
So I actually called JPD and stated that I needed someone forcibly removed from the premises. Explaining that I had asked him to leave and that he had been raising his voice.
"I wasn't raising my voice!" he declared, voice raised. Liar.
"Sir, I asked you to leave, please leave!"
I was put on hold. Then I was disconnected. The smelly possible vagrant went and sat at a table further from the bar. Waiting it out. Waiting to see if I was serious?
Eventually he just left.
The police never showed. Though, perhaps an hour later, they called to see if things were OK. Thanks, JPD.
I'm not sure if it was my honesty that made him behave in such a difficult fashion, though he was already exhibiting some unruly behavior by even questioning my decision to give him a plastic cup and suggesting he leave. It's my bar! I do what I want! I mean, the well paying customers won't stick around if it smells like the wrong end of a pig in here. It was for the business. And my delicate sense of smell.
Another note: Bastard didn't even drink his fuckin' cherry coke.