When I was 18 I was kicked out of this joint that was my local, but was in the inner city so was one of many "locals". Anyway, the bouncers that night were pricks (I was known by most of the bar staff and they didn't have a problem with me, but I was drunk and so they were justified in asking me to leave.
I hadn't caused them much trouble outside other than I was being a smart ass by standing on the path outside the venue. They kept telling me to clear off and I kept telling them I was chilling out and sobering up and they had no right to tell me to piss off from public property. So I wasn't in their good books.
Anyway, this drunk dude falls out of the pubs door, which caused me to laugh. He comes up to me obviously blind drunk and starts yelling in my face something along the lines of, "whaddya think is so funny?" surrounded by all his mates, at least five, possibly ten.
Well, the fall was hilarious and this is what I told him. He kicked me in the balls. Or more specifically, kicked the arch of my jeans, a practical benefit of having oversized clothes hung low on my hips, as was my style at the time, is that groin attacks were pretty much useless unless you dakked me first.
I turned serious and asked what kind of a man kicked another man in the balls for no reason. He did it again.
I said, "if you want to fight, lets fight, but I train and will hurt you and you seem to be a ***** who does crappy dog shots."
By this time his mates have started to realise this might not be good for anyone involved, as there were plenty of witnesses so five on one wouldn't help their case and if I won then again, it wouldn't be good, so they began trying to calm the situation.
I thought this was a ploy to catch me off guard and when I felt a hand on my shoulder I spun around and delivered one of the best shots of my life. Unfortunately it was one of the pubs bouncers and it knocked him back several meters. I felt a mixture of pride and fear when I realised I had just knocked a behemoth of a man (at least 6'5 and fucking huge, dude must live at the gym) for a six.
Realising I was in for a world of hurt, I heiled a cab as it went past and got straight in. As I closed the door, this bouncer reached in and started dragging me out through the window. This guy was fucking strong and I was guaranteed to be dealt a beating when he managed to get me out when the cabbie turns his security camera toward the bouncers face and goes, "I have you on film, you had better let him go."
I could've kissed him!
Don't drink anymore. The above is one of many reasons why.