These 4 guys come to my after-hours. They were obviously drunk, stumbling, college-aged guys. There are four of us outside the door, three doormen and myself the manager.

...Initially they didn’t complain, until the big guy decides it’s time to get a little belligerent...

The biggest one in the group keeps going on how they are from Blaine, Washington. We weren’t sure why this was important, but in his drunken state, he made sure we all knew they were American and from Blaine.

I gave my guys the look, and they informed the four that they would not be permitted access as they were already drunk. Initially they didn’t complain, until the big guy decides it’s time to get a little belligerent. He starts talking about American-this and American-that, telling us all how they are better and blah, blah,blah. The four of us laugh at him, and laugh even louder at his anti-Canadian comments.

My guys tell him that it was probably in their best interests to leave.(Which it was. 4 hammered guys vs. 4 sober doormen)

...but since he was American and obviously smarter than I, agreed that he should in fact, pick the biggest guy in the group to fight...

My head doormen pleads with them to leave, as they are now causing a scene, offending some of our regular patrons. Again they go on with the American-this and the American-that, the humour now wearing off.

Suddenly out of nowhere, the big guy says he wants to fight. He looks at all four of us. I am the biggest, standing 6’4” and around 275 at the time. One of my guys was around 5’6-250, another 5’10-210 and another 6’3”-225. I was the biggest looking by far.

He turns to me, who has remained quiet for most of the exchange, letting my guys do their job.

He says,” You. I fucking fight you!”

I look around behind me, assuming that he is talking about someone else.

I ask him, “Why me?”

The American says, “Because you are the biggest!”

I immediately questioned his wisdom, but since he was American and obviously smarter than I, agreed that he should in fact, pick the biggest guy in the group to fight.

I asked him to step beside the club, and told him that we could indeed, “get it on!”

He put up his dukes, as if he was a boxer.

I matched his stance, having boxed before.

He throws the first punch, a drunken straight right, that I slip and counter with a right-hook of my own. I hit him right in the jaw, knocking him backwards.

I stand back and wait.

...I then gave him three quick upper-cuts, the last of which resulted in a permanent reminder that I carry for life...

He comes at me again, this time swinging his arms in some sort of pseudo-Shaolin-Drinking-Monkey style that I hadn’t seen before. I assumed it was American.

I avoided all his swinging, quickly getting inside and tying him up, with some good Canadian common sense. I took his shirt and pulled it over his head, rendering his arms useless. I then gave him three quick upper-cuts, the last of which resulted in a permanent reminder that I carry for life. His front teeth marks in my knuckles.

He went down for the count.

I stood back, looking at his friends. I asked if any of them would like to dance, they all declined. Apparently only big man had balls that night.

He eventually got up, then did the famous “I am faking that I am sorry, trying to shake your hand, so that I can grab you and sucker punch you” routine.

I declined his offer to shake his hand, not eager to touch the blood from his face that he had wiped all over his hands.

He came closer, extending his hand, playing coy. I told him to “piss off” and I guess that made him angry.

He came at me again, but this time I wasn’t looking to educate him. I wanted our affair over.

I gave him a straight right to the nose that broke it upon impact. He was sent reeling back, his nose flowing with blood. We all watched as he wiped his face, his whole nose moved from one side of his face to the other. It was rather gruesome.

This apparently took the fight out of the American.

He took his friends, flipped us the bird a couple of times and they headed back to Blaine, Washington, in the United States of America.

The story ends there. I'm willing to bet that when they returned to Blaine, they failed to tell all their buddies that they got their asses kicked Canadian style!


BigDawg in BC




Tags: fight punch Canada America USA Blaine Washington broken nose punching angry drunk dumbass stupid story stories dumbass secret secrets post posts free fun funny humour