Bloody Lobby

It was my weekend to be the MOD, (Manager on duty), and we checked in early that Friday afternoon so the kids could swim. I finished my weekly duties and cleared my desk off with Monday morning and next week's shedule in mind. There were six of us who shared these weekend watches, so for the most part none of the hotel's department heads had to work weekends.
The satelite gave us HBO in the rooms, a luxury not present in our home. The family decided we would order room service and watch a movie. Around ten PM I took a walk through the hotel, saying goodnight to employees as I touched all the bases and headed for the kitchen. It was closing time for the restaurant and the dishwasher was ready to take the garbage out. I unlocked the back door and helped him drag the heavy barrels outside to the dumpster. Back in our room, everyone was fading fast. Swimming and sunshine had worn out our little band and Mama had them all tucked in and asleep. I changed out of my suit and tie and put on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt before landing in a tired heap on "my side" of the king bed.
The ringing phone rattled my mind awake. "There's a fight in the bar!" said an excited desk clerk.
The bar only had four tables and ten barstools. It was there more for service to the dining room than to be some "action lounge". Betty had been the weekend barmaid since Hector was a pup. Everything was set up to be a one person operation and she handled it well although she was only 5 feet tall, 110 pounds and well into her sixties. When she had to change a beer keg, she got the kitchen to handle it for her or just served something else and left a note for the Day Shift. She was standing in the middle of three men who were screaming and swinging fists at each other. Her outstreched arms were the only part of Betty I could see as I rounded the corner and saw the donnybrook responsible for the loud voices. Tables and chairs were upside down. Several uninvolved guests were at safe distances watching. The lights were too dim to make out much more.
"Betty, get back behind the bar",I ordered, "Now!" She squirmed out from between the fighters and ducked behind her bar. It had the effect of a "pause button" on the three and I realized they had stopped and were now all staring at me. "OK guys, I don't know how this started, but you have to leave" I said in my best "authority" voice. "They owe me $19 first", says Betty from her new location. "Who are you?" the closest one to me sneered. "I'm Dave VanArsdale and I'm the General Manager of the hotel" I informed him. Now Betty chimes in, "That's what they were fighting about" she shouted, "Who was gonna pay the tab."
I saw what I thought at the time was my way out of this mess. After all, what was a lousey $19? "Forget the tab" I announced, "just leave".
Well, old sneer face wasn't very impressed with my voice of authority. Looking back, I was only thirty at the time, wore a mustache to look older and was at least 8 or 10 years younger than this mob. Plus, they had that "special view" of the world I inhabited at that particular moment, which can only be understood and shared by others who have had plenty to drink. He lowered his head and charged across the small barroom. I took the weight of his shoulder to my belly, reached under his chin and got my right hand on his throat. I squeezed as hard as I could and started to back out of the bar into the lobby, dragging this clown. bent over and wheezing as I went. As the front desk of the hotel came into my view to the left and behind me, I shouted over my shoulder at the clerk, "Call the Cops!" "Their on their way", he yelled back. It was at that very moment that the second fighter jumped me from behind. His weight on my back should have knocked me down, but I still had sneer face throttled with my right hand and I used him for support and kept my feet under me. That was when Phil started poking the third fighter with the broom! That's right, here was the desk clerk who had called the police, now come out into the lobby with a broom and was using the handle like some kind of weapon to keep the last guy away from me. I squeezed harder on the windpipe and felt him go limp. In one motion, I let sneer face drop to the floor and spun away from #2. "Listen you guys, the police are on their way." "Let's all just stop and you can leave before they get here and arrest you." I suggested as I took a step back and raised my open hands to them in a calming gesture.
#2 was helping sneer face get back to his feet and I turned to Phil and his broom. He still held #3 at bay and I told him to get back behind the desk. Just as it seemed that things were calming down, the heavy fist landed hard on my left eye. I fell back a couple steps but kept my balance and didn't go down. My hand found its way to the stunned eye and when I drew it away from my face, I realized I was dripping blood.
"OK, you hit somebody." "Now would you just leave?" I said sarcastically.
Sneer face was the hitter, which made sense as he had the most liquid courage in him.
It was almost cartoonish, he got so mad that his face turned purple. He stomped across the lobby to the plate glass double doors at the entryway and smashed his fist straight through one! The glass cut a gash in his arm and now he was bleeding all over the floor. His two friends got on either side of him and out into the night they went. What a threesome.

Now it was my turn to get mad. They had damaged hotel property and now it looked like they might get away. I ran out the doors after them and seeing no police yet, started screeming taunts across the lot at them. It worked and they were still not in their car when the Township Patrol car arrived a few minutes later. I tried to begin the explanation to the officer as he got out of his car but he was not ready to hear anything from me. "We'll be in to get your story in a few minutes," he directed me to wait inside the hotel.
Almost unbelievabley, five minutes later, no less than five police officers stood and watched the three drunks pile into their car and drive away into the night. I ran out into the parking lot. "What did you let them go for?" I pleaded. "They were so drunk, they couldn't walk!" I accused, "and you let them drive!" One of the cops lead me back into the hotel lobby. I pointed to the blood, the broken glass and my poor swollen eye as I filled him in on the events of the last twenty minutes. I certainly did not hide my dismay at the fact that the three were not taken to jail to dry out for the night. He did not give me any explaination other than, "Well, the driver wasn't that drunk." He wasn't even sure he had their names! He didn't stay long. I was confused. One of the payphones on the other side of my bloodied up lobby started ringing. Phil walked over to it and answered it. He looked up at me, "They asked for Dave the Manager."
"You don't know who told you this" said the voice. Actually, I did recognize the voice as that of one of the county sheriff deputies I knew personally. "The reason the Township Police they let those guys go is that they are City Cops!" he went on to explain.

So as it turned out, two brothers, City Cops, each with 20+ years of service, had chosen my lounge to get bombed in and start a fight that Friday night with their "Business Agent" from the local Teamsters Union.
My address was in the Township, not the City, and when the Township Cops found out who was bustin' up the local hotel, the Blue Code was stronger than the risk of bad will with a local merchant.
I called the City Chief of Police first thing Monday morning. They were family men, he put forth. He assurred me that they would accept my offer and thanked me sincerly as I left his office. Later that week at an agreed time the two brothers and the Teamster sat down with me in my restaurant and after handing me $480 cash for the broken glass door, apologizing each in turn for acting in such a way, and promising never to return to my bar, they each thanked me for keeping this "between us".
Sneer face was the last to go out through the now clean lobby and he turned back toward me, letting his brother and the BA leave. He put his hand on his neck and touched the bruised skin, then got a little of that sneer back as he brought the other hand from behind him, full of a 357 Magnum which I'm sure was fully loaded. I swallowed hard and breathed steady as we stared at each other for a moment in the same place we had first met last Friday.
"I guess you know we always carry." he smiled as he returned the gun to hiding, behind his back, then quickly went out the door.