Episode 28: Back to School

Each event brings a fresh lesson, a reinforcement of the cliché: "You learn something new everyday." Each event is an education. The stadium or arena is school. And quite often it's literally held on a school's campus.

How many events have I worked at Boston College? All football games for 3 seasons, every hockey game but one for 2.5 seasons, almost every basketball game (men's and women's) for 2.5 seasons. I did a little calculating, and I've worked approximately 150 events at BC. That's staggering.

I know Conte Forum and Alumni Stadium inside and out. I've done everything there. Ticket taker, usher (upper deck, lower deck), luxury boxes, roam team, courtside, student section, press box, visiting team chute, home team chute, official's chute. Yet despite such a vast variety of experience, I'm still learning. Each event truly is a day in class.

POLITICS 101
Scott Brown, the recently elected Senator from Massachusetts, has a daughter on the BC women's basketball team. Ayla Brown's developed into a solid roleplaying, 6th off the bench kind of player. Good defense, fierce and fast rebounding, and a decent jumpshot. Her parents, the aforementioned Senator elect, and journalist Gail Huff, go to most games. And before a few weeks ago, that wasn't worthy of much notice.

The BC men's team had a big game against Maryland a few weeks ago, 3 days before Brown won his Special Election. The first major ACC clash of the season, with an 8,600 sellout crowd, RaycomTV broadcasting, and Ayla Brown singing the Star Spangled Banner... in a "Vote for Scott Brown" shirt.



I didn't think it was a big deal. Then again I'm fairly conservative. Then again, I didn't whine when Presidential candidate John Kerry throwing the first pitch at Fenway in '04. But I did laugh when he couldn't reach the plate.



After Ayla completed the anthem, a harried middle-aged gentlemen tried to get by me and onto the floor. "I have to talk to Gene," he exclaimed. Gene=Athletic Director Gene DeFilippo.

"Is he expecting you?"

It's always dangerous ground to traverse in this kind of situation. Like a snail crawling along the blade of a straightrazor. I don't want to be rude to a friend of the program, nor do I want to be overly deferential and yielding to somebody who thinks they're a somebody, when really they're just a nobody.

And I'm not Gene DeFilippo's personal secretary. Nobody gets down to see him through me unless they're properly credentialed, or escorted by someone who is. I'm not paid enough to decide who gets to see him and who doesn't.

Back to this frantic, agitated guy.

"No, he's not expecting me. But I have to talk to him. It's a business matter."

"Well, you can stand over there and try to get his attention," I replied.

So he did that, took a few steps toward the press box while remaining off the floor, and got Gene's attention. Gene moved to him and they talked for about 20 seconds.

Then this urgent guy approaches me again. "Thanks. I just wanted to tell him that the National Anthem shouldn't be used to make political statements."

I was flabbergasted. Too shocked to deliver any snide reply to that. He really wanted to consume 30 seconds of the BC Athletic Director's time with that? Kudos to DeFilippo for brushing it off and returning to the game (which had already commenced).

But I was beyond pissed. Granted, it's abnormal for a National Anthem singer at a college hoops game to wear political paraphernalia. Then again, what would you have BC do, tell her that she COULDN'T wear the shirt? Doesn't that also inspire some moral dilemmas?

In the end, who cares? Just some pissed off spoiled middle-aged brat who had to endure something he didn't like for 3 minutes and wanted to whine about it. 8,599 people were there to see a basketball game. 1 guy showed up just to bitch about politics.

BASIC ARITHMETIC
Working the BU/BC hockey game last Friday, it's one of my favorite events of the winter. It's a guaranteed sellout, and more than likely it's also a close, hardfought game.



I finally have a regular post for hockey. I usher between the student sections at the West End of the rink. My primary responsibility is to assure what I call the "Sanctity of the Goal Judge." The off-ice official that sits behind the net. He is untouchable. Nobody can even think about violating this most Holy of Holies.

My priorities in this post:
#1: Sanctity of Goal Judge
#2: Behavior of students (e.g. blatant drunkenness, open container, etc.)
#3: Clarity of Aisles
#4: No students leaking to reserved sections
#5: No banging the glass
#6: One student per one seat



99.9% of students, even at the BU game, follow all 6 of these Commandments. They have a good time, most are a little buzzed, but they generally behave. I'm very tolerant, very accepting. I forgive ignorance of my Commandments (except the Goal Judge one), at first. And I'll freely handout second and third chances.

But that 0.01% of cardinal sinners often do show up to these events. There weren't many drunks at the BU game, but those that were intoxicated were literally falldown wasted.

At the edge of the student section, just beyond my view, about half a dozen jerks managed to get my unfortunate attention. Out of around 300 students in my area, these clowns made the biggest mistake a fan can make at an event: they stood out in the crowd.

I saw them banging on the glass, breaking my 5th Commandment. I talked to them, calmly, forgivingly. Just told them quietly to stay off the glass.

"What if we score again? Can we hit the glass for like 30 seconds?"

"You can each hit it once, just once each." I know now that this leniency was a mistake. An error I won't soon repeat.

A few minutes later, they were banging on the glass again, and also standing in the first row, in front of other students who'd been there since 90 minutes prior to faceoff. Commandments #2, #3, and #6.

"Get back to your seats."

The Alpha of the group tried bargaining with me. Which never ever works, folks. His buddy eventually convinced him to find a seat.

Few minutes later, they're banging on the glass again. I walk down, they see me, and all but one scatters. I approach this brave/unaware kid, get a few inches from his face and say. "This is the last time I'm coming down here alone." He quietly skulked off to his seat.

As I turned and left, a voice said "Fucking asshole." I looked back, and asked "Who's the tough guy?" Whoever it was remained anonymous. "Yeah, stay quiet, kid. Real tough."

Few minutes later, and they're pummeling the glass, in the aisle and first row. No more warnings. I call my supervisor over, and another staffer also responds. We decide to pullout the drunkest one of the group, a kid wearing a brown suede coat, who'd stumbled everytime I scolded this group.

The whole time the police and EMTs are dealing with the drunk kid, his older brother is pleading with me.

"He's not drunk... He's not that drunk... We hardly drank... You're just pissed cuz we kept hitting the boards."

I won't disclose the exact BAC the kid registered, but it was well above 0.20. Vindication for me.

Now for the math:

300 students + 1 tolerant event staff = fun for all
5 assholes * 3 sins * 3 warnings = pissed off event staff
1 pissed off event staff + 1 stumbling kid = ejection
BAC > 0.10 = ejection

A few days later, I saw the end of the game replayed on NESN, an OT thriller with BC coming back from down 4-2 in the 3rd to tie it, force the extra period, then ultimately lose thanks to an unlucky bounce. But I also noticed the first few rows of my student section, specifically the area that'd been disturbed by those 5 or 6 fools. All of them were sitting quietly.

5 very courageous jerks - 1 ejected jerk = 4 subdued and castrated jerks



PSYCH 101
At the same BC/BU hockey game, as I stood in my perch atop my section directly behind the West End goal, a middle-aged gentleman stood next to me, watching the game. After I counted down 5 seconds in my head, I politely told him that he couldn't stand there as it was part of the aisle.

And then came the debate. The debate that does not die. This guy, who probably earned in excess of $80,000 last year as a doctor or lawyer or manager or whatever. He simply could not tolerate some $9/hr. 25 year old kid daring to tell him what to do.

It's an old, tired story.

"How many people do you think I'll block standing here?"

"Irrelevant. You have to move" I had no stomache for diplomacy. This guy was challenging my mandate in my domain. I was tempted to be a complete smartass, say something like "You'll not be blocking anyone, 'cuz you're gonna move." But again, BC is the client, and they want customer service.

I wasn't a jerk to him, I was simply inflexible.

"How come you can stand up here?" he interrogated. That got my blood flowing. This guy was challenging me for the sake of challenging me. Unwise.

Psychologically speaking, 2 years ago this situation would make me panic. I'd either get overly aggressive, or fold. Maybe become apologetic and whimpering, "Sorry sir, it's the rule sir, please don't be mad at me, master, I gots to follow the rules, sir."

But as a person, and as an event staffer, I've grown significantly in the past 3 years. I no longer turn to aggressiveness, things like yelling and trying to scare someone. I'm simply and constantly dominant. It is MY section. This guy was in my world, where my rules apply. He's a welcome guest, so long as he doesn't defy me.

I squared my shoulders to him, and although he was my height, I was somehow 3 feet taller and talking down to him. "I can stand up here because I'm working."

"Yeah, you're really working hard." I drew in a breath to respond. I still don't know what I was going to say to him. But he retreated and left.

I win. Ship it.



INTRO TO CRIMINAL JUSTICE
Going abroad for one class, let's go down to Foxborough. As kickoff approaches, our gate at the Stadium gets backed up. They all get backed up. So we start sending people to a larger gate. We don't force them to do it, just convince some of them that the other gate has shorter lines. And relatively speaking this is true. Although there are no truly short lines within 20 minutes of kickoff.

Some guys feel the need to declare to the world that they don't intend to adhere to our advice. "I'M GOING THIS WAY!" They'll scream out as if we care. I'd love to explain to them that I really only want to convince 10-15% of people to go to the other gate. Anything more would make that gate too packed. Anything less and our gate gets too packed.

Anyway, so one guy yelled that he didn't want to go our way. "Have fun waiting in line!" I jokingly responded.

The gall of me to joke around with this clown pissed him off. Again, just some 25 yearold, $9/hour kid. How dare me? He wanted to make a stand.

"What's your jacket number?"

"3-4-6-5!" I proudly answered.

"OK, I'm gonna report that jacket number 3-4-6-8 is being an asshole!"

"That's 3-4-6-5, sir!" I corrected him. But as I jokingly put the situation in the past and moved on with my life, a nearby State Trooper, on his horse, introduced himself to this guy.

The Trooper, and his steed, both got in this guy's face. "He's just trying to do his job! Get out of here!" The man shrank and fled.

Yeah, I never heard about any fan registering a complaint against me.

ADVANCED U.S. POLITICS
Back to BC, and back to Scott Brown. What were once calm, subdued, and frankly easy events - BC women's basketball - have now turned into a bit of a circus. A few days ago, the Senator attended his daughter's game against Virginia.

There were 1,000 paying fans, and about half as many press credentials issued. The camera platform on the South Side of the court was filled. Channels 4, 5, 7, NECN, it was endless.

So were the streams of "friends" who wanted to find the Senator and say "hello."

One woman asked me, "Do you know where Scott Brown is?"

"I know he's here, I don't know where he's sitting." A bold-faced lie.

"Oh."

"Yeah, we were told he just wants to enjoy the game." That's my polite language for 'Leave him alone.' The woman went off on a quest to find him anyway.

It's kind of funny, because last season, I had no clue who he was. Nobody did. He was #3 in that family in terms of fame, behind his wife Gail Huff and his American Idol contestant daughter Ayla. Hell, even this time last month, he was a relative nobody. Now these remaining women's games all have asterisks.



I don't mind the potential for added excitement though.

SOCIOLOGY 101
The study of human societies. I took no sociology courses when I was in college. That's one of many regrets. They just never fit into my scheduling.

A funny moment involving the interaction of 2 sub-societies. College hockey in Boston is like a cult, a subculture of fanatics. When Northeastern, BU, and BC meet, it's simply special.

Northeastern hockey fans travel well, and have taken over our Conte Forum several times. Visiting teams often do this in all sports. Maryland basketball travels surprisingly well. URI, Providence College, UMass, UMaine; their fans have all rented the Forum at one time or another.

So BC's student sections are behind the net. Northeastern fans painted two upperdeck sections black and red.



And although BC won the game on the ice 5-1, Northeastern won the verbal battles in the stands.

During the 2nd period, "We Can't Hear You!" rained down from sections BB and CC. I overheard a frustrated BC student condescendingly mutter "We're not saying anything." I wanted to slap the kid and say "That's the Northeastern fans' point!"

During the 3rd, as Northeastern mustered one of their softer chants (they were down like 3-1 at that point), my BC student section replied "We Can't Hear You!" Then the suddenly reinvigorated NU fans blasted back "YES YOU CAN! YES YOU CAN!"

I couldn't help but laugh.

I love a good chant. BC sort of struggles in this department. I don't like their sieve chant for hockey. (You call a goalie a "sieve" because he lets lots of things slip by him, like a sieve, a.k.a. a strainer or sifter) It's too long, too laborious, and seems to be an unedited collection of every other school's sieve chant. Take a nod from Cornell, passionate and intense simplicity is often best.




FILM AESTHETICS & ANALYSIS

Very short story about something only I would enjoy so much. BU/BC game again. Couple kids in the last row (right in front of me), try squeezing 7 kids in the space of 4 seats. Nice kids that moved when I asked them to. But I got to ask them while doing my Sonny from The Bronx Tale impression. I said "There's seven of youz, and four seats. Three of youz gotta leave." I even talked with three fingers.



INTRO TO HISTORY
Speaking of college hockey. I've had two odd encounters with the two biggest hockey coaches in Boston history: Jack Parker of BU and Jerry York of BC. At last week's BC/BU game, before gates opened, Parker was perusing the Wall of Fame on the West End of the Conte Forum. There's dozens of plaques honoring great BC athletes and alumni. And here was Parker, really studying each plaque. He only got through 2 panels before the student gate opened and he went back to the locker room. But it was cool to see someone who's a sportsgod in some circles, carefully enjoying a pantheon of other athletic heroes' histories.



To Jerry York. For some backstory, Jerry York is a bit of a sportsgod to me. On my sports blog, I once gave him a lifetime achievement award.

For one hockey game and one game only, I get to man the home team chute, where the team enters the rink and takes the ice. It was fun. I got to see the game from icelevel, and open the doors for BC to get on and off.

Fun fact: The visiting team can't take the ice until BC does. And BC can't take it until the officials do. And the officials can't leave it until both teams leave. I love the regimented nature of that. Unlike basketball, which is much more relaxed and haphazard during warmups.

Anyway, so I'm at the door right before start of game. The officials come out through their door across the ice. So I open my door. 22 Eagles go by me. Not really thinking, I just stand there. Coach Jerry York (who'd earlier greeted me with a friendly "Hi, how are ya?" before warmups) glares at me. It was the glare of an 800 game winning coach.



It hit me. The open door was blocking his way to his bench. In a panic, I grab the door, close it, and let him pass. His glare remained unphased until he turned from me and went to the bench.

From then on, I was insanely fast with the door. And he just glared at me everytime. It was kind of cool, actually. I got coached by Jerry York.



Photo Credits:
The picture of Ayla Brown and the one of Scott Brown & Gail Huff are both AP Photos

Episode 27: Freezer Burn

Complaining about the weather being cold in New England is like whining about the ocean being wet. It is what it is. It gets cold here. It gets especially cold in Foxborough, around Gillette Stadium. I've no solid evidence, but I think HOK Sport (now calling themselves Populous) designed the Stadium to funnel wind, thereby making it feel much colder within the walls than it should be. Either that, or Coach Belichick has a device in his office that controls the weather in Foxborough.



On Sunday the 10th of January, the Patriots hosted the Ravens in a playoff game. It was cold. That is until the fans got heated.

The official gametime temperature was 20 degrees, with 12 MPH winds creating an 8 degree wind chill. That's cold. And this is from a chubby, pale, German-Irish, genetically engineered for cold weather guy with parents from Boston and Buffalo and who went to school in central New York.

It's cold, but it isn't that cold. Certainly the playoff game against Tennessee was really that cold. That saw a temp of 4 degrees, and a wind chill under -10. 20 degrees is quite bearable, so long as you know how to dress.

As I mentioned above, I went to school in Ithaca, NY. It's 20 degrees in Norwood, MA as I write this sentence, and 13 degrees in Ithaca. In the next few days, Norwood will see the mercury hit 40, while Ithaca will see it peak at 31. New Englanders are proud of their cold weather (people everywhere always seem to boast about how crappy their weather is), but Central and Upstate New York is much colder, folks.



My senior year, in order to save $50 on parking, I walked the 1.5 miles to class 3 days a week. And in that frigid trudging through snow and ice, I forged an uncanny wisdom. I learned how to dress for the cold. And I'll impart that knowledge to you...

#1 Keep it Homemade
You don't need fancy thermal underwear or space-aged technology. You can dress warmly with clothes you already have around the house. Pajamas, sweaters, t-shirts, anything. You just need a lot of them, and need to know what/how to wear.

#2 Loose Layers
Tight is not what you want. You want loose. What you're trying to do is create a pocket of warm air around your body. A tight layer does you almost no good. Think about when you squeeze a sweater's fabric, it's not tight, it's loose and fluffy. You want your clothes to be the same around you. You don't want to be a blimp, but you want some room for air.

#3 Keep (the) Warm
Think of the phrase "Keep warm" literally. You want to keep your warmness. Coldness is literally trying to steal the warmth that your own body creates. The human body can easily produce 400 to 650 BTU/hour of heat. That's a lot of warmth. Unless contained, that heat will naturally spread itself until evenly distributed. It's called diffusion. Your clothes should CONTAIN this heat and not allow a single heated atom of air to escape.

#4 The Tuck Rule
An extension to #3. Everything, especially in the layers close to your body, should be tucked in. Pants tucked into socks, shirts tucked into pants. Think of yourself as an astronaut in the vacuum of space.

#5 Thin to Thick
The outer layer should be the thickest. The purpose of the clothes closest to your skin isn't to be thick and cozy, they're just supposed to divide pockets of air and keep that warm air close to your body. But the outer layers are for keeping the cold out of these pockets. So thick sweaters and coats over thin shirts.

#6 Sequencing
The order you dress is key because of the tuck rule. It's so much easier to have a properly tucked-in shirt if you put the shirt on before the pants. On Sunday, I wore 2 t-shirts, 2 hockey jerseys, a hoodie, 2 pairs of PJ pants, my cargo pants, and 3 pairs of socks (1 long, 2 regular length). But I put them on in this order:

1: regular socks
2: t-shirt
3: mesh hockey jersey
4: PJ pants
5: long socks
6: t-shirt
7: double-knit hockey jersey
8: PJ pants
9: regular socks
10: cargo pants
11: hoodie

And I wasn't cold. Just after half-time, some guy passing by scolded me: "Put on a hat, I'm getting cold just looking at you."

I smiled and smugly replied: "It's not that cold out." Because for me, it wasn't. Here endeth the lesson.



Back to the event.

Our response team has been a bit bored this season. We haven't had much to do, at least compared to '08. But as we discovered several times on Sunday, when you start noticing the absence of something, that's when it's presence will return, and return in force. Like when we noticed nobody was wearing a Wes Welker jersey. Our supervisor then said "Now we'll see a ton of them." And we instantly did, 8 at once, in fact. And then there was the guy with "Edelman (just for today)" duct-taped across the top of his Welker jersey.

There was a nice A-10 flyover, but all the flyovers this season have paled in comparison to Week 1's...



We started inside the bowl (inside the Stadium, not at a gate), and were busy early, almost as busy as the Ravens.

We were walking along and a woman approached me, declaring "You look like you know what you're doing, can you give us directions?" I do know what I'm doing because as she pulled her ticket out, I noticed something.

"Why does your beer have a cap on it? Is that glass?" She was cradling a 16 oz. glass bottle of Bud Light. She pulled it close and said "No, it's plastic."

"Yeah, no, give it here." She got a bit snarky after surrendering her bottle. I wanted to explain to her that we could've taken her tickets instead, and let her drink that Bud Light outside, but why try to logically explain something to someone who sneaks a 16 oz. bottle into a game, then with it in her arms, walks up to 3 security staff? Logic is helpless against this kind of ignorance.



There was a large group of Baltimore fans in 125/126, and we received reports of some lewd behavior after Baltimore's touchdowns. Normally, we're not on this side of the Stadium, but most everyone else was outside at the gates. Apparently, one Baltimore fan pulled his pants down and told some Patriot fans to "Suck it."

Shortly after that, we were walking by McDonalds in the South End Zone, when we saw the usher supervisor getting forcibly hassled by a patron. Interdiction time. What happened was one guy was drunk, and being dealt with by the supervisor, then his buddy tried to help him (there's always an overly helpful buddy that winds up hurting his friend more than helping him. Bit of advice: just sit back, let security and police handle a situation, then bail your buddy out). That ended with 3 people placed in protective custody by the police.

Just as the police left the area, we noticed a big guy standing by himself, with a messy tray of french fries, slobbishly slapping them in the general direction of his mouth. He was just staring at the jumbotron above the McDonalds as he struggled to feed his face. I walked up to him and asked if he was OK. No answer. I asked several times before he was even aware that someone was standing right next to him. When he did answer, it was a simple "I'm good."

He repeated that a few times. We asked if he was with anyone. He wasn't. He asked me if I felt good about myself. "Not really," I replied "We're down 21-0."

I asked for his ticket, and he eventually pulled it out. It was tucked inside a plastic sleeve on a lanyard around his neck. His license was in there as well, which made getting his information unbelievably convenient.

The whole time I'm talking to him, he's trying to win a staring contest with me. Now, this was a big guy, and maybe he's intimidated people in the past with this stare. But a drunken, glazed pair of eyes doesn't really irk me. It doesn't really do anything to me. I've played too much poker to backdown from a staring contest, so I just stared right back with my poker face. And my poker face isn't a stern, solemn expression, it's just a blank face with blank eyes. My poker face actually looks like I'm about to laugh at something.



Then he turned his stare to my supervisor. And it was a triple threat staring contest for a few minutes before the police arrived, took away his tray of soggy french fries, and accompanied him to the bowels of the Stadium.

Seconds after that, we spotted a guy struggling to remain vertical. He had a mustache and a silly blank look on his face, sort of like the mustachioed guy who dances at Bruins games.



I asked him if he was there with anyone. He said "Yeah... Mark." That incoherence was all I really needed to here. I then asked for his ticket. No response. Ask for ticket. No response. Ask for ticket. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out four $1 bills. Then the police arrived, and asked him to give me his ticket. He reached into the same pocket, and produced the same $1 bills. This process repeated itself 2 or 3 times. Finally, I yelled at him, "I don't want your one dollar bills, I'm not a stripper!"

Then the guy tossed the $1 bills at me, making it rain on my feet.



That was enough for the cops' patience. Another protective custody. A fan in the last row of the section adjacent to this yelled at me to pick up his money and give it back to him. Stunned, I turned to her and stated "He wanted to drop it on the ground, I'm not touching it." It's unbelievable that some buttinski wanted me to bend over and pick up his $4 that he spent in an effort to disrespect me.

A much nicer member of our team gave the money back to the man.

At this point, our boss came over with a call on the radio that response teams were going to have a very busy day. No shit.

A bit later in the day, there was another drunk big fella. This one had peed himself. That's all I really have to say about this guy.

We got some complaints about spit landing on the 100 level. I saw a loogie myself and didn't really know what it was until we heard the complaint. One of our team then spotted the spitter in the front row of the 300s. So we got a hold of the response team up there and the situation was dealt with.



Moments like that make me love this job. Someone was being a chump in our Stadium, ruining other people's days just for his own personal amusement, and now he's duly paying for that sadistic fun. I love aiding Lady Justice to deliver her comeuppances. In less poetic terms, I love helping people get what they deserve.

A few minutes after half-time, we do alcohol shutdown. What we do is ensure that the beer stands aren't selling, and that they've unscrewed their taps so they can't sell. We typically get a few gripes from people, but nothing too bad. And it's actually a fun routine.

It usually leaves our team scattered across the concourse, though. So me and one other guy were off on our own at one point. He spotted a potential drunk dude he'd noticed earlier. We watched this guy converse with his friend. He'd randomly take a half-step backward. What I call the drunken fallback shuffle. We waited until his conversation was finished. He turned around and essentially walked right into me.

We started talking, his speech was slurred. So we hailed the nearby police. I think it may have been the first time I've handled an ejection without a supervisor's help since my very first ejection, when I spotted a BC student at a football game with a beer and asked the EMTs to call over BC Police.

Well I guess with police there at this one and that one. I didn't technically handle it myself. But one of my bosses congratulated me on "Coming a long way" the last two seasons, and this was one of those instances where that was apparent. Two years ago, or even at the start of this season, I would've been on the radio begging for my supervisor's help. And this time, I just called it in. Our little baby's all growneds up and he's growneds up and he's growneds up.



During the 2nd half, we helped deal with a needlessly complicated series of events. It started with a woman being loudly obscene and obscenely loud and then involved more and more people for different reasons.

There was a trio of guys watching us deal with this profane woman. I asked them, in my best customer-service tone of voice, "Guys, let's keep it moving, alright."

"It's a free country," the Alpha of the group defiantly replied. I had to take him down a peg. I took a step toward him, and out came The Finger.

When I get pissed, I talk with my finger pointed at who I'm talking to. When my finger comes out, it's like the opposite of a dog wagging its tail. I'm like an agitated cat with its hair standing on end. I can't help it, I don't even realize i'm doing it until after.

With my finger firmly erect, "Well this is private property, sir. And I'm asking you to move along."

It was backdown time. I'd essentially told him that he could stay and have more words with me, or he could go. He wisely decided that watching some drunk woman blather on and on wasn't worth the drama. But as expected, he walked away with a 'tude.

"Alright, we're leaving."

"Thank you, sir." (lower finger)

With ample sarcasm, the guy got his little jibe in: "You're a wonderful human being."

"Thank you, I try."

I don't act like a jerk to people, and I pride myself on my patience and tolerance of stupidity. But I also know from experience that the fewer people that are close to a situation, the better. The fewer people making eye contact in a situation, the better. I can imagine that Staring Contest drunk, and what he'd do if there were 3 guys watching us deal with him. He would've gone cross-eyed.

I don't usually challenge people the way I challenged this guy, especially over the little thing he and his buddies were doing. But sometimes challenging someone is the best course of action, which is one of the many things I've learned this season.

The day and season ended with a big loss, and that sucked. But this season was the most enjoyable to work. We had lots of fun, tossed out a lot of drunks, and helped lots of people enjoy their events.

And reflecting on myself, I've learned tremendously from the people I work with. I've learned when and how to use assertiveness and aggression in this job and outside of work. I've learned the value of controlling a situation. I've learned how to control a situation. I've learned how to instruct people better. I've learned to trust my instinct. And I've learned how best to get what I want done.

And don't fret, there shall soon be some more Episodes to this series, probably shorter, or maybe collections of random stories. And concert season isn't that far off.