unfinished
A solid, breathy syllable sounded, "Wow," as 50-some-odd bystanders' eyes and mouths oggled and dropped at the spectacle which occured before us this past Friday, outside the Dame and Main Street Live. A story rife with necessities only a good bar fight story desires, such as, brainless and crooked bouncers, shamefully drunk 20-somethings, cops, a Harley-Davidson, and let us not forget a mote of spit (or was it simply an ice cube?)
The bouncer out-weighed the flake of a cyclist by easily 100 lbs. The spectators steadily grew in number as the sound of fist on face, a semi-sort-of sick wet, smacking sound, reminding me of hitting raw hamburger with a mallet, filled the air.
When the cops finally showed up, the bouncers backed one another up. All of them donned golden halos, and the police bought the act. The boy was practically thrown in to a police cruiser being curtly told to, "shut it."
What actually happened to cause this relative cataclysm? Apparently, the cyclist defaced one bouncer's baby Harley with the proverbial 'loogie.' Rather than letting bygones be what they are, the motorcycle owner's boss, seeing the discharge of spittle, proceeded to run inside Main Street Live in order to retrieve the property owner. The two bouncers then proceeded to stalk the bike rider and his girl friend down the street as, the two cyclists were preparing to leave the bar. The bouncers grabbed hold of the young cyclist, and throwing his bike aside, flung him to the ground and beat him. A "fight" thus ensued.
It seems safe to say, the bouncers at Main Street Live do not have your back; they in fact put you on your back and then stomp on your face while a crowd of your peers looks on laughing.
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