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You see a guy stabbed in the club, and you want a job?

What an idiot I thought… I’m in the upstairs bathroom, helping a few guys clean blood off their hands from a stabbing that happened only a short hour ago. This guy’s in shock, I’m thinking, near to pass out from the sight of blood on his hands, yet he was just downstairs telling of his prowess of kung-fu and desire to be a bouncer at Marcellas.

A guy was stabbed man. Get to reality, no one wants to deal with this.. I barbacked, I wasn’t expecting to come in and mop up a pint of blood like it was a spilled drink. This doesn’t happen at Marcellas… but it did.

I guess I saw the beginning of a mess right after the Mr. and Ms. Club Marcella pageant, by the way, congrats Brandon and Melody. Joseph, our resident supermodel bartender, is feeding shots to this sweaty shirtless mess who wouldn’t stop buying rounds for everyone. I think I had a shot or two shoved my way as I did my duties. Thought nothing of it, club was packed, beer was rolling out like Sabres medals. 20 minutes later I hear Richard our manager yelling over the mic that he’s gonna beat some guys ass who tried to pull a knife on him.

That’s when things got interesting.

The night was slow, but busier than the past few Sundays we had. I go in the back, and the rear doors are swung open. About four guys are across the street yelling and I get informed some guy was stabbed and to stay back. I consider that a grand idea, but as I start to leave, I notice the victim running to the back doors again, in my direction… I kinda don’t have an out and they wanted to keep him contained so we slam the doors shut… Adrenaline pumps this guy and he rips the doors open, spitting and yelling, while his blood can’t decide whether to clot up the wound in his back, or keep streaming from the pressure swelling in this guy.

Either way, any door I take will lead him back into the club, so I dance around him while security catches up. Too late. He finds to door back in and stomps in, determined to kill whoever stabbed him… I heard it was a commotion with some guy in a red shirt. He supposedly called this guy a “nigger,” and he got stabbed. Consequences, ya know, albeit extreme… and wrong.

James, the security guard, I guess the club has it out for him, but he went to work as he piled the berserker back out the club, blood and all as we get him back in the back and on the floor. Cops were called and should have been there already. I’m there and help James sit on the guy, a first aid kit is brought, most of us are trained in first aid or EMS, but the cops show up and we step back.

We should have never stepped back, because as soon as we do the cops get the guy up and let him walk back in the club to frighten more innocent club-goers and spill more of his possibly diseased blood everywhere. Mind you, we all had gloves on, but we all wore his blood. Emergency services rush in and they get berserker back in the hall and on the stretcher… Rural metro heads out, and the police start to find out what the hell happened.

I start to clean up, the first aid kit is strewn to bits and covered in blood, thanks to the police just thinking a guy we had to take to the ground screaming was going to hop up and walk to a stretcher like a good boy. Blood on the walls, blood in both halls, in the club and employee area; I start to clean with help from Joseph and a few others, while we do the best to keep the rest of the club preoccupied with the drag show, and off what just happened.

I hand the cops the bag of clothes from the vic and most everyone involved… I never saw the perp; he ran shortly after he stabbed the guy with a small knife he was carrying.

I got the blood cleaned up, bleached and disinfected everything I could. It was 2:30am.. the cops had left us, and things were getting back to semi-normal. We had had enough. After being involved in something like this, not to mention the blood contamination, I wasn’t about to go back and wash shotglasses. Joseph was in the same mood.

I don’t care what they say, Joseph, James, and I were the main three Marcellas employees taking care of all the mess. We had some help, but most got in the way. I have a fonder disgust for pompous queers and drag queens. Couldn’t they see the blood, that it wasn’t safe, that I’m yelling at them for their own safety and because they kept tracking blood back and forth over a hallway we were trying to make safe again?

I left without getting paid, I better get a full cut and some juicy tips. I get paid to restock bud and mop up vodka… not blood.

Article cross-posted  to WNYMedia.net

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