"You're so patient," several people told me as a customer threw a beer bottle against the wall. I smiled wanly as I scooted them out the door, and the train of people that followed offered to beat up the offending customers.
2:30am: a couple on the couch by the fireplace, four LA boys playing pool, four industry regulars at the other end of the bar, Pav waxing philosophic with two grad students. The odds are always in my favor.
The LA boys, they caused a ruckus, but they united an entire bar against a common enemy: douchebags. Also, they left me a $100 tip on a $100 tab.
It's not patience. It's exhaustion. And greed.