Turf Club has gone downhill. Very downhill, and it's all the result of poor staffing.
Upon a recent visit to Turf Club, I approached the bar and was immediately threatened by a tribal-tattooed exmilitary guy with a shaved head. He told me I could not stand within ten feet of him. I thought he must be joking, and shrugged it off. The only open spot at the bar was immediately next to him. I approached the bar and was immediately threatened again. This guy reeked of whiskey and had obviously been served too much. I could not find another location to politely approach the bar without intruding into someone's personal bubble, and continued to receive threats of physical violence and death by this drunk.
Finally, a female bartender called me down to the other end of the bar and said "Look, I'm sorry about that, just order down here." When I asked why he hadn't been talked to or asked to leave yet, she replied with "He's being allowed to stay." I ordered my drink and could not comprehend the situation that had unfolded.
I went back to the table where my friends were sitting and proceeded to enjoy my time. When my drink was empty, however, I noticed that the only open space at the entire bar was yet again this guy's ten-foot rule. Noticing that he had about 8 more drinks sitting in front of him at the bar (it might have been more but I'm trying not to exaggerate anything) and was currently in the process of trying to hit on everything missing a penis, I figured he just may have forgotten about his ridiculous stance that he had previously taken. A friend came with me and we approached the bar with a "pretend we're not there and don't make eye contact" rule.
When we get to the bar, I turn around to ask my friend what he wanted so I could order it for him, and when I turn back around I find a very angry drunken sailor (who has literally made the worst life decisions possible when it comes to tattoo selection... a full sleeve of tribal tattoo is not as cool as he thinks it is) close enough to my face that I could kiss him. In fact, he is now standing on my toes. With a raised eyebrow, I ask him to get off of my feet. He barks back "I have killed better men than you."
Sigh. I take this moment to make him aware that "So have drunken drivers, terrorists and incompetent doctors, and I'm not certain that's a comparison you'd want to make."
Meat (let's call him "Meat", shall we?) smells horrible. I feel like my nose is trapped inside a bottle of whiskey mixed with sweat. He's way too drunk and obviously has no intention of slowing down. He spilled a drink just barking at me. So anyway, Meat tells me he's going to kill me. I deny it. He reassures me. I sigh and reassure him that he will not. I explain that I just want to get a drink and he's wasting his energy as I'll give him his supersized personal bubble back in just a moment.
Apparently this isn't good enough, as he steps forward to press his chest against mine. What a romantic. I swoon. I catch a bartenders eye, finally, and attempt to order a drink. Meat discovers the joys of yelling over someone's voice in order to drown them out. People around us at this point have given us their full attention and are commenting amongst themselves. Apparently I'm not the only one that can't figure out why Meat hasn't been removed from the bar yet.
Finally, a skinny male bartender comes along and places himself between us and tells us to go back to our booth and they will come help us there. I ask if Meat is finally being kicked out and he says "No, we're going to let him stay."
Really?!
I ask why and this lanky fellow explains that he has been tipping extraordinarily well.
"So, what you're saying is he is buying his ability to bully and harass people in your establishment." The skinny dude says nothing. I return to my seat. Two minutes later, the door guy comes by our table. I have a feeling this is the same exact door guy that other reviews are complaining about, as it sounds like the same son-of-a-bitch.
"Was that guy bothering you? Can you tell me what he did?"
We are more than happy to volunteer everything. Door guy is more than happy to belittle us for it and harass us about "being scared". Specifically, he turned to my friend and said "You sound like you were scared. You look scared. Are you scared?"
The tone was undeniable. I immediately demanded that door guy apologize to my friend. He shrugged it off. I demanded it once more to no answer. This is when I finally got mad. I asked the door guy if he is even aware of what his job is. He claimed yes, though all of us knew better. I told him that he should keep himself in check, as someone is going to come along and take his job right away from him. He told us to leave and never return.
All of a sudden, we (regulars) are not allowed back at Turf Club. Meat is still allowed. Then again, Meat gets really drunk and just tips the bartenders really heavily.
At least the assholes didn't charge me for my drinks. read more