From Brooklyn to Bordentown [continued]

Friday night
Last Exit Bar - Brooklyn, NY

Friday nights at Last Exit are a blast. Although a relatively low-paying gig as far as DJ'ing goes, it's one of the most fun. I stand at the end of the bar and play lots of sixties garage rock, Motown, soul, R&B, funk, disco, 80's, and early 90's drinkin' music. My friends stop by and hang out, and the bartenders are the coolest in Kings County. Whereas my normal Friday night would consist of paying for overpriced PBR's or drinking endless pints of (even more expensive) Bass and feeding fivers into some crappy digital jukebox, I get PAID to play my favorite music and drink for free. I really couldn't ask for much more out of life.

But like everything else in life, you gotta take a little bit of the bad along with the good. The Gods are continually conspiring against you to test your abilities at dealing with drunk people and your ability as a DJ to satisfy the crowd. There was one such moment a few months ago on what's usually a pretty down-to-earth bar.

It was September, and the Red Sox were playing the Yankees as the Yankees were fighting to stay afloat in the playoff race. Towards the end of the game, as the Yankees were about to win, the bartender (the lovely Lauren, who got me this gig) asked if I could play Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" (see a theme developing here?) after the Yankees won, as they traditionally do at Yankee Stadium. So I happily oblige, and after Frank, I segue into a brief set of other Rat Pack legends such as Dean Martin and Sammy Davis. Classy, right?

So some overly-liquored asshole, who's been eyeing me down for the last couple hours for whatever reason, finally gets the drunken courage to confront me. The following is my approximate recollection of the exchange. Keep in mind a large group of my friends are standing there watching this transpire...

Douchebag: "What is this crap?"
Me: "Dean Martin?"
Doucebag: "Yeah... why are you playing this?"
Me: "It's a Rat Pack set... people wanted to hear Frank after the Yankees won, so it kinda made sense. You don't like it?"
Douchebag: "Why you gotta play that popular shit though? Why not Luck Be a Lady?"
Me: "New York New York? It's what they play when the Yankees win. And Luck Be a Lady is just as big a Sinatra song as any..."
Douchy: "What is this? Is this what you use?"
Me: "What, an iPod? Yeah, that, cd's, records..."
Douchy: "That's fucking lame dude... who can't do that? The bartenders could do that..."
Me: "Well, they kinda gotta tend bar, not play music..."
Douchy: "What is this music? Are you trying to be ironic? Is this supposed to be ironic? You fucking suck. You're the worst dj ever..."

At this point, several other people begin arguing with Douchy and a brawl nearly ensues. Douchy and his friends leave, one of whom was very cordial, I had actually talked to earlier in the night and played a couple of his requests. While this was seemingly an isolated incident, I would be called the "worst DJ ever" at this bar again about a month later, when some smelly, drunk hippie chick was upset with my choice of smelly hippie music (how can you like the Grateful Dead, but not the Doors?)

Tomorrow night, I will be manning the decks for the New Years Eve party at this very bar. It's a 70's theme, so I've gathered some of the Me-decade's greatest disco, funk and pop hits - I can only imagine how many un-ironic people it's going to piss off...