In the states we call it 86'ed...
The only time I've been 86'ed from a place was two years ago on a trip to california. Well actually I just got thrown out of a local pizza joint on saturday for calling the bartender a douchebag, but he really was being a douchebag and I can still probably go back if he's not working. But anyway I was in Big Sur california, and it was january, and it was pouring. There being about 200 total residents of big sur in the winter there was absolutely nothing to do. My friend and I rounded up all of the people we had met on our trip, which included 2 methheads, a crunchy hippie, and about 10 mexicans, and told them that we were all going to do a lot of mushrooms. We got a big bag, and started eating. We had no scale, and they were particularly potent (unbeknownst to me) and about an hour in we were all in another dimension. I had some fun chilling in our motel room listening to music on a homemade stereo made by one of the tweakers consisting of the tape player, speakers, and battery ripped out of his pickup truck and soldered back together inside our room. (tweakers show you how to do the greatest things) I was also carrying on entire conversations in spanish with Jorge, one of the mexican kids, ddespite the fact that I don't speak of word of spanish. I think he was so far out he didn't notice either. But the hours went by and I grew tired of what was quite frankly a sausage fest of Bavarian proportions, so I went out the door and yelled, "see you later dudes I'm going to find some bitches at the bar!" I got to the bar, and maybe it was the mushroom's fault (it was definately the mushrooms fault) but for some reason I was convinced that I knew every single person in the place. I walked up to the bar and joined right in a pair of complete strangers conversation as if I had known them for years. I ended up getting in a friendly argument with one of them who had committed the unforgivable sin of saying that Lyryrd Skynyrd sucked, and the guy thought I was hilarious, and said he wwanted to buy me a drink. So he called the bartender over and told him to pour me a shot of whiskey. The bartender said "sure, no problem, I'll just have to see your ID." Well here in the nanny state that we call the U.S. you have to be 21 to purchase and consume alcohol, and the fact was that at the time I was only 19. But as I told you before, these were some powerful mushrooms and I was entirely convinced that the drinking age was 19. So I proudly gave him my driver's license, and was completely shocked when he gave it back and said, "I'm sorry son, I can't serve you." "Why not?" I replied.
"Because you're 19."
"Yeah exactly, I'm 19, now where's my shot?"
"Son I can't serve you, I'd get my liiquor license taken away."
this is when I began to get agitated.
"Goddammit I am 19 years old and you had better pour me that fucking shot. I know the law, I know my rights, what the fuck is your problem?"
I still don't know how he got over the bar so fast, but in the blink of an eye he was on my side of the bar, with one hand on my collar and the other on my belt, giving me the old fashioned bumrush out the door. I'm glad the door was the swinging type, because I don't doubt that if it wasn't he still would have pushed me through it whether it opened or not. I had just come to a stop on the ground when I heard the obligatory "and don't come back!"
I never did.

Oh and if places that aren't bars count that I'm also banned for life from all Linens N' Things stores for holding an imprompteau shopping cart race which resulted in the destruction of an entire rack of glass candles. Also from the Old Country Buffet for convincing my friend to mix every item they had, drinks and dessert included into a cup and see how much he could chug, which resulted in the furthest projectile vomiting I've ever seen outside of the Exorcist. As far as I know my polariod is still hanging over the cash register.
(raulduke, Mon 4 Sep 2006, 17:30, Reply)