Downtown Memphis Blog

So he stops bitching. My friend Tony, from Hoop’s Bar, used to be a bit more, eh, aggressive with people. This resulted in some pretty goddamn amusing stories. I’ve witnessed quite a few first hand, and we always talk about writing them down, but we’re both lazy alcoholics. I decided I would write one right now.

Tony used to work in a bar on Beale street. Half of his shifts were in the middle of the week. During the winter, they were particularly slow, so I would go in there and hang out because I don’t really like people, so I like it when it’s dead.

This was one of those shifts. It was late fall, business on Beale and downtown in general was starting to fall off significantly, aka my favorite time of year. I stopped by the bar Tony worked at right after work, around 7 or 8pm, and we were sitting there bullshitting and watching the tourists on Beale.

I was sitting at the first bar stool, the cook at the time, Amy, was sitting at the second, and Tony was behind the bar. I had only been there for a few minutes, working on my first Newcastle, when some crackhead walks in, carrying a Beale Street “Big Ass Beer”. Every bar on Beale has the policy that you can’t bring a beer in with you, though you can walk down the street with a beer, as they don’t want people buying a beer outside, then camping out at their bar, taking up space, and not buying shit.

Tony says “You can’t bring that in here, you have to finish it outside.”, and the guys starts giving him shit. He asks for his name, and Tony says, “Why?”

Crackhead: Why? That’s a funny name! What’s your last name Why?

Tony: My last name is “Get the fuck out”

CH: I just want to know about your name, why.

T: It’s too early for this shit. Pretty please, with sugar on top, get the fuck out, or I’m going to mace you.

At this point, Tony produces a can of Fox Labs OC. This is mean shit. It’s the hottest pepper spray available.

CH: Hit me, big man!

Knowing what’s going to happen very, very soon, I roll out the left, towards the door, to get out of the line of fire. Amy goes the other way.

Predictably, Tony maces him. But not just a quick burst. Tony’s not that kind of guy. He continues to unleash a stream of pepper spray for a solid 45-60 seconds. About 30 seconds in, the crackhead has the presence of mind to bring his hand up to his face and cover his eyes while screaming “Ahhhh!”. Tony diverts the stream from his eyes, and starts spraying it in his now wide-open mouth.

The crackhead has a moment of clarity, and decides that leaving is the best way to stop the endless stream of pepper spray. He walks out the door, and for a few seconds, seems unaffected. This is because OC takes a few seconds to build up to full “OH SHIT I WANT TO KILL MYSELF, PLEASE GOD MAKE IT STOP BURNING” status.

After 10-15 seconds, he falls to the ground screaming “Ahhhhhh!”. Tony throws me the door keys and I lock the door. The crackhead gets up a few minutes later, and stumbles around, telling tourists that we maced him for no reason. No one gives a shit, of course, since he’s a crackhead. He finally stumbles off about 10 minutes later.

What a perfect way to start the night.