Some people get barfights at their gigs.

I, however, get crazy people on crack who come in, sit at the bar and end up surrounded by eight cops and rustled out to a paddy wagon (yes, a real, live, Wooosta police paddy wagon).


Maybe I need to go back a few steps.


My Monday night gig is at a coffee house, which is a few blocks from Clark University but at the edge of a sketchy part of town. Luckily, the patrons include a number of bouncers from the Palladium (who know their bidness and usually deal with metalhead kids who get out of hand) and other people I feel very safe having around.


When I get to the place on Monday night, the day counter guy/manager is there with some cop obviously giving a police report. Turns out, after I left the previous night's poetry festivities, some guy showed up around 12 (at night) and was acting *very* sketchy (the whole weird story involving offers of large sums of money to work there, weird comments and paranoid rantings are on my friend's LJ, which I would link to if he didn't make it friends only because the little girls like to stalk him). At one point, one of the bouncers from the Palladium came in - large (and I mean not fat, the kind of large that involves large mass of muscle with a bit of fat over it that can move FAST and fuck you up - he's my buddy, my protector, and we're both Air Force veterans, so we bonded from the beginning - he was an MP, of course, I was just a computer programmer. LOL) and sporting the NYC attitude (born and raised there), but not being in your face. Just that confident roll, eyes scoping out the situation by habit. Paranoid guy has seen him around, seen the New York plates, and is convinced this guy is after him (drugs are bad, mmmkay?).


Of course, as the situation develops, my friend gets him out back so as not to get into a fight around the staff and patrons. When they're outside, the crazy guy whips out some thing (I forget the name of it) that is half hatchet, half hammer and proceeds to threaten my friend with it. Since the staff have already called 911, all my friend has to do is keep crazy man in check until the cops get there. OTOH, my friend also has a case of PTSD, and certain situations (like being threatened with real physical violence) can set him off, so he says "I have a machete under my seat, motherfucker. You want me to get it? Then we can fight." (I forgot to mention - he drives a taxi, so you know how that goes)


Luckily the cops show up and give the guy the bum rush.


So, that's Sunday, and on Monday I'm coming in to the manager giving his report on this incident (ie: more information) on Monday night. The staff fill me in on the situation, said the guy had threatened them that he had a gun at one point, etc. So now I know there's some weird guy out there who may show back up.


Remember how I said I was going to do old-school hip hop by request? Yes, I did that - until about two minutes before the cops showed up. I'm glad I wasn't playing NWA's "F**k tha Police" when they showed up (I had played it earlier). One of the baristas (what is the correct name for one who is a female or is it the same for all?) came up to me and I could tell she was *freaked out* - she's a friend of mine. She told me (sotto voce) that the guy at the end of the counter, who I'd seen come in and put his big-ass parka on one of the couches at the front before sitting at the counter with his back to me so I had no clue of his state, was the guy and that Tony (one of the staff who was in there on his day off) was out back waiting for the police to show up (the back has no windows to the parking lot, the front has full plate glass windows looking out on the street). I was really grateful that one of my bouncer friends (who's also a close friend of ours who will be moving in as our upstairs neighbor along with his wife soon) was sitting on a chair keeping an eye on things. I told Kaylee (the barista) that I'd put on some very *soothing* music in a minute and it would help her calm down while she waited. Song ends, fade to trip hop (from hip hop, but stylistic continuity was not my concern at this point).


Eight cops are suddenly coming in the front door, single file. In about two seconds, they're surrounding the guy, handcuffing him and sitting him on a chair at a table. Guy keeps trying to get up, ranting about police brutality against minorities, etc etc. The whole time, I'm playing stuff like mellow house (I believe Danny Tenaglia's 9 minute remix of Ananda Project's "Cascade of Colors" was in there) and low key prog house like the stuff off the last Sasha album. At a medium volume where the cops can hear properly but so there isn't dead silence. Rule #1: don't ever stop the music unless ordered to by a uniformed person - people are already on edge (they teach you this in DJ school, heh) and try to not stare at the situation like every other damn person at the establishment.


Finally, the guy starts threatening the cops, and that's it - he's outta there as soon as the paddy wagon (yes, I wasn't kidding) pulls up in the front. Turns out he wasn't giving them his ID and didn't have it on him - but his parka is still sitting on the couch. Ashley (another of the staff) tells a cop that the guy's coat is on the sofa and points it out. Since it's directly across from me, I watch him pick it up by the hood and see some green box fall out of the pocket (probably cigarettes judging from the size). At that point,he procedes to check the many pockets.


He pulls out and holds up in his palm.....a gun. I'm not big on guns, I've shot them before, but I don't like them at all. I literally felt my stomach try and take over my throat, and then swallowed and watched as he put it down and finally pulls out the aforementioned hatchet/hammer thingy.


Now, I try not to speculate on what *could* have happened. But I am guessing he was waiting for my taxi-driving friend to show back up, and I am fucking *thrilled* that it didn't go down like that.


It's not all grim, though - every thing in my life seems to have funny endings. Another of the bouncers from the Palladium (Timmay, aka the "fake Tim" as my husband calls him) shows up, pissed that he missed the action. He talks up the cops (who it turns out were members of the SWAT team) who he knows and finds out more about what happened. Yes, the gun had a full clip in it. Yes, the guy's well-known to the cops. Meth head with mental problems (which came first, the chicken or the egg), always getting into something.


Rest of the night was more upbeat - I played fun party tunes and my crazy friends danced and drank espresso until they were well buzzing. Decent money in the tip jar. Lots of hugs to Kaylee who is still pretty freaked out. Learned that buddha Tim (there are many Tims around here) took the seat next to freaky guy so no unsuspecting patron would sit next to him in case something happened. Also learned that the guy had said he had a gun the night before but nobody believed him. Saw another guy coming through, obviously looking for his friend, talking on his cell phone as he cruised through from back to front (very subtle, G).


When Tim (aka the spouse) showed back up, he was briefed on all of it. He had gone home (three blocks away) to finish some work, and was glad that Keith had been there and that everyone was okay.


So how was *your* Monday night? LOL