The Case Of Mistaken Identity

A week ago friday, we go to listen to some blues at a place called "Sanddollar Lounge". Decent place, sort of a locals hangout/biker bar with pool tables, dance floor with music from mostly local acts with the occasional semi-famous blues acts.
The clientele is there to have a good time and the couple of times we have been there,, there have been no rucouses or incidents, unlike this past friday night...

We decide to go to an Irish pub inside one of the larger casinos here in town and have dinner, then stick around and listen to some music afterward.
It's a relatively small place - like it can hold maybe 50 comfortably, 100 being crowded.
So we have a good dinner, and the music started up. The night lingers on, alcohol was consumed by us and obviously, the rest of the patrons. After all, it's an Irish pub.
The place gets quite packed, to where it is shoulder to shoulder standing room only, save for the very limited booths and tables, which altogether seat maybe 50 people.
So Mrs. Curmudgeon and I take a potty break and come back to find our chairs occupied. (Thanks the rest of you at our table for not bothering to save our seats.)
We politely ask the two new female occupants to return our seats to us, as we didn't leave, we just took a break. One of them said "What? You want to trade places with me?" Mrs. C says "No, you're in our chairs, we would like you to leave." With a huff, 'Blondie' says "Fine then. Here you go!" The other occupant - a rather huge and ugly woman - 'Sasquatch' - simply returns a blank, alcohol induced, glazed over stare. Now I'm not one to be mean to women, especially ones I don't know, so I figure I'll let Mrs. C talk to her.
Mrs. C then repeats her request for Sasquatch to relinquish the comandeered chair. Sasquatch says something like "Huhnnn?" Mrs. C then says "MOOOVE!!!"

So with an evil snort from her huge, ugly face, she decides to move to the same table Blondie now occupies, directly behind us about three feet away. But when she stands up she drops her purse upside-down to the floor, spilling contents all over. She picks up most items, save for some sort of makeup thing (Hint: Don't waste any more money on makeup) and a set of keys.
Now since I am a gentleman, I will open a door for a lady, carry a load for her, or even pick something up a lady has dropped. But since this was no lady, I left the items laying on the floor figuring the janitor would find them and put them in the lost and found so that when Sasquatch regained her composure and wits, she could come back and claim them.
So with that, Mrs. C and I are settling back into our chairs to continue on enjoying the show.

We're listening to the music and having a good time again, when someone starts to throw ice from their drink at us. Just a couple pieces at a time, being a pest. I figure Sasquatch is back there being all passive-agressive and shit, so I lean over to Mrs. C and tell her "Jesus Christ. Now the dumb bitch is throwing ice at us." as I was turning on my stool to turn and 'kindly' ask her to not throw ice. Before I could blink, Mrs. C had turned and grabbed a handful of of the first/closest blouse she saw, which happened to be Blondie's, and was expressing her displeasure at having ice thrown. Blondie let Mrs. C know it wasn't her and that she didn't even know Sasquatch - who had left the scene with a quickness.

So a couple minutes later a rather largish guy who is employed by the establishment to keep riff-raff out, came to have a chat with us. He mentioned that someone told him Mrs. C had grabbed someone. We set his mind at ease, and were finally able to relax and enjoy the rest of the show.

So this little pub which holds about fifty people comfortably soon had close to 150 occupants, and there was no room to even breathe, let alone walk. We decided we had had enough and it was time to go.

Moral of the story: Even though Irish blood runs thick through my veins and I don't own a bike, I'll take a biker bar over an Irish pub any day.