Dear Guy I accidentally bumped into on my way to the bar

Dear Guy I accidentally bumped into on my way to the bar,

Why are you huddling with your friends? Why are all you guys pointing in my direction?

I was just walking by and we happened to bump into each other. We didn’t even really bump into each other, our shoulders merely rubbed together for a split second or two. I even apologized but instead of replying “no problem” or “no big deal,” you slowly wheeled on your heels and stared me down, and started gripping your Bud heavy like you were going to drive it through my skull.

I just wanted to go get a drink at the bar. I distinctly remember saying “excuse me, I just want to go grab a drink at the bar.” I thought that my meaning was fairly clear. I guess instead of “Excuse me, I just want to grab a drink at the bar,” you heard “Excuse me, I'm just going to drive to your mom's house and take a dump on her head.” Honestly, if there was a miscommunication I sincerely apologize but could you and your friends stop forming a human barrier between me and the rest of the patrons. It’s a little disconcerting.

I will admit that this has happened to me before, so perhaps I am apologizing too aggressively or walking to the bar with too much aplomb. I’ve lived in Boston all my life and I know that some guys get a little testy whenever aplomb is involved so again I apologize. I just don’t understand why this keeps on happening to me.

Last week, completely different bar, completely different crowd. This guy was in a suit, talking about how he was putting all the drinks on Uncle Ned’s credit card. I squeezed into the open space at the bar and ordered my drink when the guy turned around into me, innocently standing there, and began staring me down like I had just stuck my hand down his pants and asked him to cough. Maybe the small sliver of breathing room had actually been annexed by Mr. Brooks Brothers earlier in the evening and I just missed the notice in Bankers & Tradesman.

A few weeks earlier, completely different bar, completely different crowd. This time the whole place was in jeans, t-shirts, sneakers and Sox hats. Red Sox Nation, right? The Sox game was even on so I figured that a guy in a Papelbon t-shirt wouldn’t mind if I stood next to him at the bar to grab some drinks for my friends. I guess he figured that my broken-in Sox hat and thick Boston accent were just the clever camouflage of an undercover Yankees fan because the second he stepped on my foot he looked like he wanted to drag me into the kitchen and shove my head in the deep-fryer.

So, maybe I’m doing something wrong, sir, but I would ask that you and your friends please stop bribing the bouncers so they’ll “look the other way.” Our shoulders barely touched. It’s not like we’re the only the two guys in the sauna at the gym and I decided to sit right next to you. There must be 200 people packed into this place. It’s like a refugee camp, only sweatier. And we both have button down shirts on so really it was merely our button down shirts that touched.

What's a little cotton on cotton rubbing between random dudes at a bar?

What’s that, you think that I keep on looking at you? Is it because I have a problem with you? Of course not, that’s what I’ve been trying to say. I just wanted to grab this vodka tonic and go back to my corner…oh, you don’t give a shit about my vodka tonic. You just want to know what’s my problem?

Well, ok, this is my problem. Every time I try to maneuver through a Boston bar, I get more dirty looks than Ann Coulter would if she was burning a picture of Barack Obama outside of Cambridge City Hall.

I’ve have had drinks in bars all over the world- New York, Chicago, Las Vegas, Montreal, London, D.C.- and I’ve bumped into people in all of them but it seems that only in Boston is an innocent bump in a bar a high crime punishable by a bottle to the skull. It doesn’t matter what the watering hole calls itself- bar, lounge, club, Fenway Park- you better be up on your Krav Maga if you accidentally bump into someone.

Because in Boston a bump isn't a bump. In Boston, a bump is a call to arms.

Oh, you weren’t actually interested in hearing what my problem was. My bad, I guess. I just figured that since it seems that you take the killing-the-dude-who-accidentally-bumps-into-me stuff so seriously that you would want to know that you’re not alone. Your brethren can be found in every other bar in Boston.

Sorry, I wasn’t calling you gay, I really don’t think that the word brethren implies that. Again, I apologize if my meaning wasn’t clear. Now, if you would kindly remove your hands from around my throat I would like to go back to destroying my liver. And thanks for the offer but I think I can handle that on my own.

Sincerely,

Just another guy in Boston tired of almost getting in a fight everytime he walks to the bar