(I am out with four friends, who are two couples, at a club. We decide to take a rest from dancing and find a nice isolated bench in “L” shape with a table in the middle. To let the couples sit together, I sit in the corner, having one on each side. It’s all nice, we chit chat a bit over the loud music, and get a drink until I take a sip to rest my throat a few seconds, I turn left to continue the conversation, but the couple is passionately kissing. I then turn right; No luck. Passionate kissing on this side, too. I decide to return to my drink, leaving them some time. I usually drink slowly, but notice I have finished my glass. I’m growing frustrated to be stuck there in the middle of a make out session, while being obviously ignored. I try to catch one side or the other attention, to remind them they are not alone, unsuccessfully. At this point I tap shoulders to interrupt, so I could at least leave this spot… They give me the “wait-a-minute-finger.” Having had enough, I stop a passing waiter.)

Me: “Sorry, I know it’s going to be a rude/strange request but as you can see I’m trapped in a bad corner.” *pointing to the couples* “They won’t even stop to let me out of here. Do you mind if I step on the seat to pass over and could you bring me a chair to get down, so I can escape?”

Waiter: “Well, as I have noticed them being at it for quite a while now, I guess you have been more than patient to tolerate this. Give me two minutes. I’ll bring help.”

(To my surprise, the waiter does not came back, but it’s the scary security guy who is coming over. He proceeds to get in between each of both couples, and forces them apart.)

Security: “Ok, guys that enough for tonight. Now, let the lady stuck in the middle get away.”

One Of The Girls: *giggles* “But she’s our friend. Why would she want to get away from us?”

Security: *dead serious on a tone that call for no reply* “Mooove! And get a room!”

(They reluctantly let me get out the bench corner. I could not thank the staff enough for their intervention. And no, I never accepted to go out with them after that. I’m not going to hold the candle again for anyone.)

(Two intoxicated patrons are trying to start a fight, when the owner of the rock club decides to stop them.)

Owner: “All right, break it up you two! There will be no fights in my club. If you want to fight – there’s the door. Take it outside!”

Patron: “But… It’s raining outside, bro!”

(I am a lesbian. And even when I’m with my significant other, men still hit on me, because they seem to think I’m kissing a girl for attention or something along those lines. My girlfriend and I are out dancing and waiting for drinks at the bar.)

Guy: “Did it hurt?”

Me: “What, when I had my d*** removed? Yup, that was h***. I had to stretch my interior several times a day to make sure it doesn’t grow closed again. And my interior is d*** skin. Dude, that s*** hurts.”

(He fled.)

(I’m at a comedy club watching a young lady do her routine. She is starting a new joke.)

Comedienne: “My parents have always been supportive of me. They’re proud of me, right?”

Man In Front Row: *yells* “F*** yeah!”

Comedienne: “F*** yeah! Love you, Dad.”

(I am a somewhat overweight, socially awkward guy. I don’t go clubbing too much because I don’t blend in well, but a lot of my friends club regularly. I am invited one night to accompany them to the most popular local club, where the crowd is mainly made up of popular, preppy college-kids who are unfortunately mostly smug and look down on anyone who isn’t ‘perfect.’ While my friends dance, I wander over to the bar to grab a drink. An attractive young bartender looks at me – the only person patiently waiting who hasn’t yet been served – but instead decides to ask every… single… other person at the bar if they want anything before she even looks at me again.)

Bartender: *hastily* “What do you want?”

Me: “How much would a cheap rum & coke cost me?”

Bartender: “Ugh. I could get you one with bottom-shelf rum with $3.50.”

Me: *trying to be friendly and easy-going* “Okay, I’ll have that. I’m not super picky when I go clubbing.”

(She rolls her eyes, makes me my drink, but doesn’t give it to me. Instead, she goes to the largest group nearby and again checks on them all repeatedly before she returns. She practically throws my drink at me.)

Bartender: *with a smug, sarcastic smile* “Oh, I’m soooo sorry, but I accidentally put in some of the more expensive rum into this. It’ll be $7. But if you can’t afford it, I suppose I could make you another one with the cheap stuff. You look like you probably can’t spend too much the way you’re dressed.”

(I was tight for cash. I only had about an extra $10 bill, some singles and some change with me so I could order a few drinks, but I didn’t want her to ‘win.’)

Me: “Oh, that’s fine. I’ll take that.”

(I hand her the $10 I have, and once again, rather than just giving me my change, she purposely goes to several other people first, making sure to glance at me with a smug look, before she finally gets me my change.)

Bartender: *nasty chuckle* “Here’s $3. I could get you a shot of the cheap stuff if that’s all you got left.”

(I took the money and waved her away. I then noticed that instead of handing me three $1 bills, she had accidentally handed me three $10 bills. Seeing an opportunity, I went back to my group, picked a very attractive female friend, and told her to ‘play along.’ You can imagine the bartender’s surprise when I ordered myself and my very attractive friend two rounds of expensive drinks, while my friend pretended to be enamored by me. After spending about $40 on drinks, I purposely left a spare penny I had for a tip.)