Bouncers Are Sharing The Wildest Reasons They’ve Had To Kick People Out Of A Bar, And I’m Speechless

“The time I had to break up two cocktail waitresses fighting over a table that ended with one of them biting the other in the face.”

It’s safe to say that bouncers have seen pretty much everything and have plenty of stories of them kicking people out for various reasons.


“Mid-December in Washington state, this kid had just turned 21 and wanted to come in after midnight — policy did not allow this. Plus he was already pretty wasted from earlier celebrations.”

Nickelodeon / Via

“A cop follows him to his car; dude drives off. Police chase him for about a mile. Abandons his car in the middle of the road, then starts running through a parking lot. Cops chase him on foot, but he gets back to his car. So what does he do? He hauls ass back to the club, where at least 4 other cops and 15 bouncers were waiting outside. Ditches his car again and tries to get in a few others. All locked. Dude ended up with a few felony charges and a good tasering for his birthday.”



“A patron passed out sitting on the toilet. He had puked into his pants and underwear around his ankles. I rattled the stall till he came too and put his puke pants on after failing to wipe his ass. After escorting him out the back door, I got him into a cab. I’ll never forget the splashing sound he made as he sat down in the cab.”



“I worked in a club in the ’90s that was open on Friday and Saturday until 4 a.m. In Ohio we had to stop serving alcohol at 2 a.m., and often people would try to sneak in drinks after that. I was walking through the dance floor just after we cleared all drinks and saw a kid with a beer.”

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“One of those ‘tall boys’ that we didn’t even sell. It looked like he just opened it, and I was in a good mood. He looked like a nervous kid who probably never bothered anyone in his life. I decided to be nice and just confiscate the beer. As soon as I opened my mouth, he tried to take off running. I reach out and grab his jacket, and hear a thud. It takes me a moment to realize he just dropped his gun on the dance floor. He was immediately held down by about three of us, cops were called, and he went out in handcuffs.”



“Had to boot out a man and woman (both middle-aged) out for having sex in the ladies room. It wasn’t that kind of place. And also, when it’s busy and there’s only two stalls in the ladies room, that’s not cool.”

“Do that in the men’s room. No one will narc on you. Or in your car in the parking lot.” —u/thatdudefromthattime


“One time I had to break up two cocktail waitresses fighting over a table that ended with one of them biting the other in the face. The bite was severe enough that she ended up in the hospital for treatment, and the one who bit her went to jail for aggravated assault.”


“Guy and girl start having a screaming argument in this one dance club, guy raises his hand to her, but before he can make contact I grab him and start walking him to the door. As I am walking him, someone lands on my back and starts hitting me. I snap my head back into that person’s face, and when I turn to see who it was (some of my guys had secured the dude), it’s the girlfriend whose face is now covered with blood, thanks to her freshly broken nose.”


“Two guys try to come in at 1:55, and the bar closes at 2 a.m. We’re already moving people out the door, but they keep insisting on coming in. I say no again, and they try and slip me money. I still say no. They then berate me for about 20 minutes, calling me all kinds of white slurs.”

“The last one they used a few times was, ‘You John Cena looking motherfucker.’ At this point I’m curious, so I ask, ‘Are you complimenting me now or still mad?'”



“A group of three college fuckboys are having a night out, playing pool, and generally annoying everyone. Once I had enough, I walk over and inform them that they need to continue the party elsewhere. This gathered the attention of the people nearby.”

“Of course, fuckboy #1 wants to fight me. After I tell them it’s not going to happen, fuckboy #2 and #3 calm him down and they stay. After a little while longer of continued hooliganism, I approach again and insist they leave. Fuckboy #1 again fires up and wants to fight. This time, I tell him yes, but we can’t do it inside because there are cameras; we have to go to the parking lot. He heads for the door with entourage in tow. As soon as they clear the door, I close it and engage the deadbolt lock. Much to the applause of the entirety of the bar, the cops were called. He pounded on the (bulletproof glass) door for a few minutes until they arrived. :)”



“Bartender here. This guy and his girlfriend got kicked out for throwing a tip jar full of money at me while my back was turned. I was only giving the wife water for free, and the husband took offense.”


“I was a bouncer. Had to bounce a guy who was jerking off. He wouldn’t stop and wouldn’t leave. I had to pick him up and throw him out. He jizzed all over my chest.”



“We had a guy on angel dust steal the valet tray of toiletries, go into the handicapped stall at our club, lube himself up like a greased pig, get totally naked and begin to furiously masturbate while babbling about Jesus. Fourteen security dudes, all of whom were either pro fighters, ex mil, or both, the smallest of which was me at 5’11” 255, tried to extract this guy doing a stall breach. He ran through us like a collective wet paper bag. We had to choke the fuck out of him to get him under control. It took about 10 minutes. With 14 huge dudes.”


“I worked at a nice bar as a doorman/bouncer during day shifts. Mostly just checking IDs. I had to break up a fight in the kitchen between two coworkers over a gambling debt.”



“One night, while working the front door, I was standing in the doorway watching vehicles pull into the parking lot because we can often spot problem people before they even exit their vehicle. This night was the only time I ever saw a hearse pull in. The driver makes his way inside and proceeds to get sloppy drunk and gets cut off from the bar.”

Dr. Paul Bearer / Via

“Then he starts trying to leave, like in a hurry. At this point, all we are thinking about is getting him to stay and sober up before he gets behind the wheel again. My coworkers and I tried everything we could think of to convince him to stay. ‘Hey man, stay and have another table dance, stay and enjoy some free coffee, some free food, whatever. We’ll even call a cab for you.’ Nope. He just keeps heading for the door, repeating over and over, ‘Nah, man. You don’t understand. I gotta GO!’ We follow him out to the parking lot, still trying to change his mind, when one of the other bouncers realized we are following him…to a hearse. He yells, ‘DO NOT tell me you’ve got a fucking BODY in there, man!’

The driver then says, ‘Yeah, that’s why I keep telling you I have to go! Look I’ll show you.’ As we all stand there, utterly fucking speechless, he swings the rear door open and raises the lid of the coffin. Inside, we see a nice-looking older gent who is obviously on his way to his own funeral. ‘See, this is why I gotta go! If my boss finds out I did this again, I’ll get fired!’ This is the part where I like to stress that yes, he said AGAIN.”



“The time a few young ladies from a couple states over visited the after hours BYOB strip club I was working at. They were real nice, had their IDs and everything. As they come in, I go to check their purses as is standard procedure. First girl opens up her purse, and there is a Ruger .380 LCP pointing right at my face. Her and her friends had been in and out of bars all night and wanted a little protection. She had no idea that she was committing a state jail felony the entire time.”



“Found a guy nodded off in the bathroom with a needle in his arm. Tossed him out and he didn’t understand why we wouldn’t let him back in, as he had ‘only had one beer.’


“Our club security participated in some partner gig that the owner had with his buddy who owned another club. We were never introduced to his buddy. They told us to be extra tight on the front stage area security. Well, shithead comes up in there looking like he thinks he’s getting past me discreetly, and I tell him he has to back it up and leave.”

“He backs up about 1 foot length and stays watching the performers. I give him a final warning and even tell him that I’ll be forced to personally escort him out. He pretends to not hear me, so I pick his ass up and begin carrying him off premises and to the entrance. Meanwhile he’s screaming the name of my boss, all pissy sounding. Turns out I was canning my boss’s business partner from his own gig. I was pretty embarrassed but also didn’t regret anything because I was doing my job and he basically asked for it.”



“I was a ‘door greeter’ at a bar near my house. One night, a group of foreign-type guys came in later in the evening. At last call, they wanted to spend entirely too much time questioning the price of their tab.”

“After about 20 minutes of waiting, answering entirely too many questions about the price of their tab, the bartender jumps up on the bar and throws a highball glass down on the floor, smashing it. Then screams at the dudes, ‘Just pay your tab. No one is trying to fuck you on the price of the drinks. You drank them; you pay for them. Now shut the fuck up and pay your fucking tab. We all want to go home.’ [He] has to boot them after they paid.”



“When I was a DJ at the bar back in the day, some drunken asshole started being a dick to the waitress, smacking her ass, making a grab for her tits, etc. The bouncer grabbed him by the back of his hair and knocked over every table with the guy’s face as he dragged him toward the door. Then he used his face to hit the panic bar on the door and threw him out into the street.”



“I worked a venue for years, lots of scary stories of fights, etc., but the ones that stand out are the gross ones. I was working a show of some hippie jam band; place was packed with patchouli, patchwork pants, and white people with dreadlocks. Show was over, but we let people stay and drink after for a while.”

SNL / Via

“This one guy was sitting motionless on a bench. It had been a while, so I ask if he’s OK. He nods and I leave him alone until we were going to close. He’s still motionless; I say, ‘Hey man, we need to clear this area out.’ He projectile vomited what looked like 55 gallons of purple liquid. It seriously covered a 5×5 radius. People are freaking out; another patron actually puked at the sight of this. I stand the guy up to walk him outside. He takes two steps in his flip-flops and slips backward on his own barf, sending a flip-flop flying, and he’s on his back writhing to get up, completely covered in purple barf. 

Remnants of spaghetti and carrot are all over his hair and body, and I remember just walking away to compose myself. I get a large bar rag, wrap my hands in it, grab this guy by his collar and another hand on his pants, and carry this dude to the door and throw him out onto the street. I began to question if this job was worth it after that.”


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