brooklynguist

I live a couple of blocks away from a bar called Gowanus Yacht Club, which is essentially a cluster of picnic tables under a tarp. Nothing fancy, but a good place to to go on a humid day for a burger and a can of Pork Slap, which I only ever order because I like saying Pork Slap. A couple of years ago I was hanging out there when the bartender asked me whether I wanted to come outside and meet Rooster. I said yes, assuming it was a euphemism (shwing!) So I followed dude out the gate, and out of nowhere this deranged bearded man lunges towards me, wielding a knife with a ten-inch blade and muttering something about destruction. This, of course, was Rooster.

The bartender took one look at Rooster's jungle knife and practically threw me out of the way to scramble inside. I stood there frozen for a few moments before my survival instinct kicked in and followed suit. I don't think Rooster had any intention of stabbing me; I think I merely walked into his path during a routine machete practice. Either way, the incident was fairly traumatizing.

So this weekend I was at the Yacht Club and the bartender, otherwise known as Chivalry Personified, told me that he recently gave an interview to Metromix where he described the incident. I looked it up and found the following anecdote:

There's this man, he comes in all the time and gives us pens. He's a nice guy. Rooster's his nickname...And one night I saw him, I just walked out the gate to get some air and he was just slashing the air with a big knife. And he had a bag that was full of knives. But he always comes in here, orders a couple hamburgers and a Diet Coke, and gives us pens.

Dear bartender, I take issue with several aspects of this story:

- You left out the part where you led me out to get shanked by hobo. That air he was slashing was uncomfortably close to my torso, which gets no mention.
- You go on the describe Rooster with a fondness usually reserved for one's befuddled but charming uncle, the one who tells rambling war stories and nods off during Thanksgiving dinner. Dude had A BAG OF KNIVES. He is not your uncle, unless your uncle fashions a shiv out of the wishbone and chases your mother around the kitchen table.
- A media publication wants to profile your establishment, and THIS is the story you choose to tell? Are you trying to scare off potential customers, because this is not good publicity.

Of course, I was the one who nearly got taken out by the loon, and I'm still a regular customer. Make of that what you will.