There was a small stage about 18 inches off of the floor, with a wrought iron railing that separated the audience from the dancers. The bartender’s back was to the stage, such that patrons who sat at the bar were able to look forward, drink, and watch the dancers.
One evening in December of 1987, a few of my friends from high school went there. We were in the part with the railing. A drunken patron, whom we did not know, started to tell us that he wanted to get on stage to dance with the performer. My friends told him that it was a great idea, and that he should go for it. He took their advice, climbed over the railing, took off his coat, and threw it on the floor. The performer moved to the side of the stage and informed the bartender. The bartender turned around and looked. He said to the drunken patron, “Billy (or whatever his name was), what are you doing?” The drunken patron said, “I don’t know.” The bartender then told him to get his coat and go home. He left without incident.
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