I recently attended a concert featuring various bands that had their roots in the 1990s. I had tickets in the pit — on the floor, right up against the stage — with my mom, my friend, and my friend’s fiancé. I expected it to get quite rowdy, but I didn’t expect to see what is probably the funniest confrontation I have ever witnessed.

Throughout the whole show, there was an event security guard standing nearby that was huge. He was at least 6’8” and over 350 pounds. The crowd wasn’t too crazy until the headliner came on stage. Then, people started sneaking into the pit and were promptly told to return to their seats. Most accepted defeat and returned to their respective areas with no complaints.

One guy, however, just kept coming back and he had obviously had way too much to drink by this point. The big security guard told him to leave several times, and it was clear he was getting irritated at the guy. He told him one final time that if he found him in the pit once again, he’d be thrown out for good.

The guy (who was smaller than me, and I’m six foot even) decided the best course of action was to attack this mountain of a security guard. My friend’s fiancé pushed me out of the way as the guard picked the guy up and physically pushed him past us and into the arms of a state cop.

Have you ever seen a grown man be picked up by his armpits and literally thrown? We could see the look on his face go from, “I’m going to kick this guy’s a**,” to, “I f***ed up.”

The rest of the show went on without any issues, but seriously, what did he think was going to happen?

I was a member of a youth group for young men aged thirteen to twenty. We referred to each other as “brothers”. We had an event one Saturday evening, and I was asked to give three of my brothers rides home. The older two and I planned to get some beer after the event and then drive out to the desert and drink. We were all over eighteen — the drinking age at the time. I just needed to take the youngest, who was thirteen, home first.

To save a little time, I stopped at [Convenience Store] to get some beer before taking the youngest brother home. Knowing that it’d look suspicious, I parked on the side of the store so that the clerk wouldn’t think I was buying beer for an underage kid. I instructed him to stay in the car while I got my beer.

When I was second in line, my underage brother came in, walked right up to me, and asked where the bathroom was. I quickly pointed to the back corner of the store, hoping the clerk didn’t notice. (I also gave a hard eye-roll.)

The clerk IDed me but didn’t raise an issue about the young kid that had talked to me. I bought the beer, went out to my car, and waited for the young brother. I drove him home, and then we went out to the desert to drink and watch the stars.

On Monday, I ran into one of my other brothers at the college campus.

Brother: “Are you in any trouble?”

Me: “I don’t think so. Why?”

Brother: “I was at [Convenience Store] on Saturday at [time shortly after we left]. There were police there, and the clerk was giving a very good description of you to the officers.”

For the rest of my college years, I avoided that convenience store like the plague.

I work in a small bar in a tourist town in Minnesota, across the river from Wisconsin. At the time, Minnesota has some archaic blue laws surrounding the on-site sale of alcohol on Sundays.

A Minnesota boater comes off the river and asks for a twelve-pack and a bottle of vodka.

Me: “Sorry, sir, it is Sunday, and under Minnesota law, we cannot sell alcohol for off-site consumption.”

Boater: “But I can buy it on the other side of the river.”

Me: “That’s Wisconsin, sir; their laws are different. If you want that, you’ll need to go there. So sorry.”

Boater: “We’re docked here; that’s just stupid. Everyone knows that law is not enforced. It wouldn’t hurt anyone. Come on.”

Me: “Sorry, we could lose our license and I could be fined. Around here, this law is rather strictly enforced.”

Boater: “I live in the cities, and no one there cares. Everyone does it. There’d be a big tip in it for you.”

Me: “No can do, sorry.”

Boater: “Your laws are stupid. Do something! Just look the other way.”

Me: “I live in Wisconsin. We don’t have the same laws about alcohol sales. But since you live in this state, maybe you should do something about your laws. I have other customers. Excuse me, sir.”

One of my coworkers comes into work drunk. This is grounds for immediate dismissal, so he is promptly fired. [Coworker] usually walks to work, but the manager has me walk him out just to make sure he didn’t come in a car.

On our way out, a customer approaches us and addresses [Coworker].

Customer: “Hey, you! Take me to your [items].”

Coworker: *Pauses* “I don’t think I can. I’m pretty drunk.”

Customer: “What?! They let you drink on the job?!”

Coworker: “Nope! I was fired, like, two minutes ago.”

Customer: “Um… okay.”

He went off to find someone else to help him, leaving [Coworker] and me laughing on the way out.

My husband and I are at a concert for a band I love. After a couple of songs, the lead singer grabs his microphone and walks to the front of the stage.

Singer: “So, our stage manager told us not long before we got on that he’d seen a guy crying outside. So, he asked him why, and the guy said, ‘My girlfriend just broke up with me at a concert for my favorite band! I’ve been looking forward to this and she just left me here!’ and WE! THINK! THAT’S! BULLS***! So, if you’re still here, buddy, come up on stage!“

The crowd gives a little cheer and then a louder one as a man really does walk up to the stage, though he’s a bit wobbly. The singer goes to meet him.

Singer: “You look pretty cheerful for a guy who got dumped an hour ago.”

Drunk Guy: “Yeah!”

Singer: *Pauses* “Okay, what does our stage manager look like?”

Drunk Guy: “Like s***!”

Singer: “Get off the f****** stage.”