Olentangy

“Who the hell do you think you are, asking me a question like that?” she said.

“Ha, I just asked you if you like girls” I said.

“None of your fucking business, go to hell!”

“C’mon let’s go”

“Wait a minute Snosh, I think she likes me?”

“Likes you? She just told you, to go to fuck off and go to hell”

“She’s playing hard to get and she’s just talking dirty to me”

“You’d be lucky, if you only got slapped”

We were walking the mile long strip on High Street at Ohio State from bar to bar, dives and dance clubs trying to pick up a girl or two. We had been at it for a few hours. I drank way too much beer and tried more than enough stale pick up lines than I had in my toolbox. Soon it would be closing time.

“Hey Snosh, where did we park the car? Maybe we should just go home?”

“Hold on, we’ve got another hour, let’s go to the Omni on Old and Tangy Road, watch a couple dancers and I can play some pool and maybe win a couple bucks”

“Well, I guess so. I’m tired but whatever, sure”

There were two “Joints” on Olentangy Rd. Olentangy. It must have been an old Indian word that meant “It’s late, better go home.” The first establishment, the “Omni Down Under” was a full-scale nudie bar, which was basically a room with an out of shape woman, on a grungy couch, that only sold apple and orange juice. But of course, we were much more sophisticated and headed upstairs to the more exclusive and higher end “Omni Show Bar and Dance Club.” They had younger girls, better lighting, three pool tables in the back room behind the stage and most importantly...Beer!

Snosh was a helluva pool player and most of the time came out on the winning side, having learned the science of physics, bank shots and the art of English on the ball. He’d usually bet his leather coat and had quite a collection from his winnings.

We entered the Omni and walked the 20-foot-long vestibule foyer with tinted black glass 12 feet high with a sign that said “No Shirt. No Shoes. No Service.” The bar was quite packed as it was a Saturday night and would be closing in an hour. Michael Jackson’s song “Beat It” blared on the DJ’s sound system as Snosh and I grabbed a couple draft beers.

“I’m heading in the back to play a game” Snosh shouted over the music.

“I’m just staying here at the bar” I pantomimed, as I nursed my last cold one of the night.

Being a student on a budget, I didn’t have enough money for a table dance and would pass the next 45 minutes leaning on the bar rail. I stared at the detached brunette gymnast on the stage as she mastered the brass pole and I scored her with my personal mental scorecard.

After a couple more competitors, it was getting late. I was starting to tire when this wiry 5’5” guy, who looked like he could have used a cut and a shave, bumps into me and says, “Hey man what time it is?”

“It’s 1:30” I said and pointed to my watch.

He never blinked his eyes and didn’t much look like a scholar or gentleman as he donned a polyester powder blue leisure suit. He staggered down the bar towards the two bikers seated on the corner stools. Big guys. Six footers. Angels.

The Red headed biker could have been mistaken for a Viking and looked like a madman himself. But the real scary guy was the bald guy with a goatee with a tattoo on the back of his head of another face with another goatee. Whichever way he turned he was looking at you. Now back in the early 80’s, tattoos were not very popular like they are today, mostly only sported by Navy men or bikers.

“Last call” the bartender shouted out as the song “Do you really want to hurt me?” by the Culture Club blasted as the last dancer took the stage.

Two-face got up from the stool and started to walk towards the back towards the billiard room when the little guy in the leisure suit bumps into him and says, “What the fuck man, watch where the fuck you’re going”

Two-face stood over the little guy by a good foot and a half, taken by his audacity and brazenness of even engaging him. Smiling he said,

“I didn’t see you down there, little man”

“Go to hell. Well...here I am!”

“Relax little man, now let me buy you a beer, relax” as Two-Face patted him on the shoulders.

“Come on let’s take it outside!” pretending to take off his blue leisure suit when suddenly he sucker-punched Two-Face with a right hook.

BOOM!

Two-Face went down, hitting the pavement as the “Little Guy” started kicking him in the face.

The whole bar turned away from the bright lights of the stage show and now were focused on the commotion at hand, or foot as it were, when a dancer jumped on his back, when little man hit her.

“You hit a girl J.R! Damn it J.R. you hit a girl!” The dancer on stage shouted as the music stopped.

Just then, all the guys in the bar ran at him to take him on, when just like a popeye cartoon, they were all flying off J.R.; One, two, three, seven guys were bounced as he ripped off his shirt like Hulk possessed, motioning to the rest of the crowd to take him on, “Come on you mothers! Come get some” While the wounded writhed on the beer-stained tile.

J.R. then ran out of the front door, past the glass vestibule, out onto the street. The girls were all screaming at J.R. as the rest of the pool sharks including Snosh, hearing the commotion ran out into the main dance area. I was still leaning on the bar, as the Viking’s red beard was resting in his beer mug.

“What the hell happened?” Snosh asked while stepping over the wounded.

“That little dude, I guess he’s known as J.R., just kicked all their asses.

“What little dude? Where is he now?”

“He ran outside I guess?”

Snosh and I hurried to the glass vestibule and looked out to see where the berserker went.

One of the strippers was on the payphone calling the police in the vestibule, when Snosh yelled, “Look Out!”

J.R. was running towards the window with a cinder block as if it was a bomb, servicing it with both hands and of course no shirt. He threw the cement block shattering the window, as we turned from the shards of glass protected by our Levi's and black leather coats. The high heeled girl wasn’t so lucky as she was cut by the flying debris.

We helped and took her inside, bandaged her, and loaded her into her dancer friend’s car as they drove to the hospital. When the cops finally showed up 20 minutes later, JR was long gone. They knew him well. Turns out that JR was an Excon recently released from prison.

Snosh and I went back to survey the battlefield and put our empty bottles on the bar top. As we left, I saw Two-Face having his last cold one, licking his wounds.

I turned to the Viking and quietly asked, so as not to shame Two-Face, “Hey I’m just curious, why didn’t you jump into the fray and help your friend?” an almost comical question as it looked like Two-Face had it all handled before it began.

“Guys get in fights, what are you going to do?” as he proceeded to chuckle at the obvious absurdity of it all.

“Ah yes, Olentangy” that old Indian word again, shaking my head reminding myself “It’s late, time to go home.”