My night, in a nutshell: - Six (6) guys with a bachelor party who claimed to be VIP but, in fact, were nobody, who decided to throw a bottle from their car at the club. Arrested. - One (1) girl spit in my face and slap me because I dared to take her fake ID (which was HORRIBLE, by the way). - Four (4) fights out front. Forget inside, I don't deal with fight calls inside. This was outside. *One (1) choked out. *One (1) knocked out. *Two (2) arrested. *One (1) started crying like a little girl because I punched him in the throat. - One (1) drink thrown on me because I informed the girl she couldn't leave with it. - Three (3) drunk cocktail/bartender sluts screaming at each other because they were so drunk they couldn't work out their tabs. - Six (6) Sam Adams drank. By me. - Three (3) fingers Laphroiag Quarter Cask drank. By me. ... Sometimes I hate my job more than anything in this world; it's made me the biggest misanthrope humanly possible.