Hubbub.

So I'm standing in the walk-in cooler, sending A.J. a text message about the lovely crowd of mouth-breathing frat kids who are drinking 25 cent well drinks. I do this because I know he will find the humor in it, and because I miss him and I want him to know that we are thinking of him (and his lovely wife, who I never see). Suddenly, I hear a loud crash and the light inside the cooler goes out. It seems that the cheap liquor has finally done its work, and there is a bit of a brawl outside the door. After groping my way to the door, I managed to shove it open and grabbed the first guy I saw (happened to be D, one of my favorite co-workers). Then I grabbed the next guy I saw around the waist, dragging him from a pile of sweaty, meaty drunks and shouting "Whoa! Whoa!" to very little effect. Thankfully, we had a crack door staff tonight, with our old door guy T making a brief return and D back from a "professional bike tour" (I can't write that without quotes because it's just too silly), as well as the best of our current lineup. So they got it taken care of right away. Nobody had any idea what started the whole thing (except those of us who knew how much liquor had gone across the bar), but it didn't slow things down for long.
I am completely losing my train of thought right now. Guess I should try to eat and sleep. More later, I suppose.