"South Street Tip Nazi"

So to celebrate Steve getting engaged and to mostly get caught up with him the two of us went to the local bar that is PufferBelly. After some time and two beers each when my other friend Rick showed up we kicked around the idea of taking the speedline into Philly to walk around South Street.

Steve and Rick share a common love for really bitter beer made in various countries I will never visit. So,after some hesitation and missing a train we were off to the City of Brotherly Love.

We started out Tattooed Mom's (or something like that) which is basically some guy's attic converted into a bar. It has all kinds of posters for concerts and writing all over the walls. The music was mostly heavy metal. The atmosphere reminded me of over crowded parties I used to go to. However, this time I actually had a girlfiend (although she didn't go out with us) so I didn't have to worry about being shot down by girls and going home for the night full of shame and self-loathing.

Anyway,we decided to do a round by round tour Steve had the first round, and when we went to the next bar (that didn't seem to have an actual name) Rick picked up the tab and we had beer with orange slices in them. This place was nice and chill, and I even got to play some music from the music box. Yes, it ended with my obligatory appearance of Francis Albert.

So to get to the actual title of the story it was getting really late and those pansies over there have a last call of 2am not 3am like most South Jersey bars. So we were running low on time. One place didn't even let us in since it was 1: 25 (L-A-M-E). So, we ducked into this "Irish Bar" right off South Street. It was my turn to pay.

I really figured I wouldn't like much that was on Tap,and felt as if I was done drinking but I was going to be a good sport. When we got there however I had to urinate fairly bad. So I handed Steve a 20 dollar bill and told him to get whatever. I could not wait in line since the piss was coming faster than Smary Jones in the homestrech.

When I returned both Steve and Rick had beers, and they didn't buy me one. I assumed they were going to make me try some really dark beer from Transylvania or something. But I guess they figured I would order what I wanted instead. I saw this as a chance to not drink (one more drunk Keith would have appeared) and to just chill. Color me lame.

Steve gave me back the money which I really didn't count, than Rick gave me back some money. I asked Rick why he was giving me money too since it all should have came out of the same 20 bill. Apparently Steve paid first and gave Rick ample enough for the drink. I didn't count either pile, it looked right so I just pocketed the cash.

A few minutes later this dude wearing a NYC fireman shirt came up to us. He asked us where we were from. My first thought was this dude wants to hang out with us! The dudes sure are friendly around here. Maybe he wants to mingle with a group of dudes for some reason. Of course he could also be planning to jump us (It was South Street afterall). However, I just assumed he was a drunk dude looking to make friends. I told him were from South Jersey.

He said "Well this is Philly and we tip over here! This guy (pointing to Steve) left 50 cents, and this guy (pointing to Rick) left nothing! That is not the way it works around here! They only get 3 bucks an hour!" then he marched up stairs.

I assume he worked there I have no idea, but the guy wasn't even my height and I really didn't actually buy a beer. Besides most times I tip at the end of the night(not that we were there long) so I don't know how he assumed the tipping habits of my two friends let alone if I was going to end up getting a beer myself.

To be honest I didn't even think about if they tipped or not since I didn't get a drink. I assumed they did although it would explain why the drinks were seemingly so cheap. The thing was I was willing giving my 20 away knowing very little would return at the time assuming they were going to select my brew for me too. Rick said later he would have tipped if thought I wasn't buying a beer. However, I had no direct contact with the actual bartenders.

Now what is the proper edict here? I assume I was responsible for the actual money, but the dude didn't know that. If neither of them tipped it wasn't my fault they had my money and easily could have. They were serviced not me. Both of them were soured about the thought of showing gratitude at his point. To be honest so was I. The guy was an absolute prick (you can argue we are too for going into the bar so close to closing) and I don't really think that I should be scared into giving a tip. Again for all I knew they did in the first place, the amount left told to me by the dude was news to me. Since I didn't really count it and I guess one or two dollar tip would have been good enough to pay someone to pull a lever and fill a glass so it wouldn't have been to noticable if they didn't.

We left and didn't live a dime and Rick got a dirty look from the chick bartender when we left. Maybe the dude was banging her or something. We tipped at the other places, and I had planned to had I actually handed off the cash. I also can't imagine that we were the first not to tip on two beers. Now please use my comments to let me know what the proper edict is here. Considering I never even before the incident planned to ever return to that bar. I rarely even go to South Street and there are 90 bars there anyway his threats to me didn't mean much.


The train ride home we meet some dude from Haddonfield who gave us advice on how not get out throat slit that late at night on the speed line. There was safety in numbers, and he told us he gets jumped on average twice a week by crack heads. He turned out to be bartender too and said he comes home with over $400 a night (likely what people at Irish pub bring home. I would like them to see my pay stubs if they are so unhappy) usually. He advised us to right the train into the city one block since it was the one we were boarding anyway to get a good seat. Also our lives were likely endanger staying at the one station too long. Plus he knew the cop in the car we were on. Hmm..maybe we should have all tipped him.

On an unrelated note Rick and Steve saw some dude's cock.