Originally Posted by PatDixonNYC
Here is what happened the night Keith has been talking about on his and Chemda’s podcast.
I showed up at The Creek and the Cave, kind of late. I go there about 4-5 times a week to play the piano. The Creek is like a second home to me, and since I started hosting a regular weekly show in the city with a band, I practice a lot at The Creek. I obviously don’t have a piano, and the only piano I have any kind of regular access to, especially late at night, is the one there in the lounge.
A lot of times when I get there, there’s an open mic going on, and I have to wait for it to be over before I can move into the lounge and start playing. So I’ll hang at the bar. The bartenders all know me, and they know exactly why I’m there. Once the room is open, they graciously cut the music in that room for me, and I generally move right in and start playing. Sometimes I get to play for hours, and after hours. The Creek has been really good to me. Hardly anyone else plays the piano there, and I know for a fact the reason the owner has it regularly tuned is because I play it.
So I don’t own the room or anything, it’s public. But The Creek isn’t just a place where comics go to get drunk. It’s not just a bar. It’s kind of a clubhouse, and a regular hang. Everybody knows each other. When people see me in there playing, they pass with a friendly wave, they come over and say “hi,” we visit, whatever. And it’s always cool. I'm around drinking and drunkenness a lot, it's not a problem for me. If it ever is, I leave. I've worked in clubs for 18 years and I've been sober for 14 of them. I've never had a problem.
When I'm playing and people come into the room and listen or talk or just hang like I'm not even there, that's the best. I never have a problem. I’m not weird about it; it’s a public space. Almost everyone is very courteous, and if they’re not, they’re the fringe people you don’t see often. Those types might start talking into a mic or yelling requests, it happens, but not that often.
While I was waiting at the bar, Keith walks over and says hello. We had a very chummy conversation about 20 minutes maybe. I can tell he’s drunk, but what’s new.
I told Keith a little about my break up and it was a tough summer. He tells me about the show that night. Keith made a big show of choking and slowing down on all the masculine pronouns while talking about it. “ ‘HE’ did such a good job. ‘HIS’ performance was amazing,” etc.
I responded by saying something complimentary about Chemda’s other half, easily plugging in the masculine pronouns (it’s not that hard really, you just say “he” instead of “she”). Keith said, “Wow, how’d you learn to do that so fast?” and I just blinked at him and shrugged.
Then, I see the mic is over, I tell Keith nice talking to you, I’m gonna move along and see you later. I ask the bartender to cut the speaker in the lounge, and I move into the lounge, close the door and start playing.
Maybe 5-8 minutes later, Keith comes in loud with Danny and two guys I didn’t recognize. If you know Keith, he has this stock joke where he’s talking loud to the whole room as if he’s unaware that you’re there, and when he sees you he acts surprised that you’re there and gives a big loud “OH!!! HEY!!!!!”
So he does that. And, truthfully, I’d already talked to drunk Keith enough that night, and didn’t really care to get into phase two.
So he comes in loud, and I’m immediately irritated. It's late, and I’ve been waiting half an hour or so to get into the room, plus I’ve been looking forward to playing literally all day. It’s just something I love to do.
Anyone who is an artist might understand this. It’s important to me. And I want to emphasize, it would be clear to literally everyone else I know, and to most total strangers that I want to be left alone. I don’t own the bar, but this is a separate room, with glass walls. It’s quiet. It’s not a raucous area at that point, until Keith comes in with his pals and starts doing his drunk Keith thing.
I’ve thought it through, and there’s not one other person I know who would feel self-important enough to burst into a quiet room like that and start calling the tune. But Keith is just like that.
Keith sits down in the seat closest to the piano, one of the guys I didn’t recognize sits next to him and Danny is on the end.
From the time Keith comes in, he’s louder than the piano. He is, as he generally is, the loudest thing happening in the room and immediately the center of attention and of course he’s directing all his attention at me, trying to get me to change what I’m doing, being funny for his friends and just generally being a nuisance, but granted it's funny to his cohorts.
The first thing I said to him was “get the fuck out.” I don’t know where it came from, it was just a gut response to having him and his three friends burst into the otherwise quiet room I'd been waiting to use, like I always do. I think I could just immediately see where this was going.
Keith, far from hurt or bothered by that, lets out a sarcastic “WHAT?? I can’t come and hang out?? Play me a song.”
I repeated, “Get the fuck out.” I was smiling friendly, but I was trying to send a signal that it wasn’t a good time.
Keith can see his presence is hitting a nerve, and he gets a kick out of it, so of course he’s not going anywhere. I stop playing for a second, and he leads his friends in a sarcastic round of applause. I look at my phone, Keith is doing a commentary on me: “He’s gonna play or he’s gonna text?!” His friends are laughing at most of the stuff he’s saying, so he’s showing off.
It’s tense for me, because I really just want to be alone and play the piano, and it’s 4-to-1, they think this is all hilarious that they’ve come in and just kind of taken over.
There’s a brief conversation about the soda I was drinking. Keith was curious about what I was drinking. I showed him the label. He was like “What’s the flavor?” I say “Tamarind.” He says, “Yeah, but what’s the flavor,” I say, “I don’t know.” The guy next to him looked it up on his phone and first says it’s an orange and then says it’s lime. No one gives a shit.
I have my own standard joke where I say I can play anything and ask for a request. Then, no matter what the request, I play “The Entertainer” which is very common and recognizable and obviously NOT whatever the person requested. It’s not a great joke or anything, but it’s usually good for a laugh. I’m trying to be friendly even though I don’t particularly want these guys around, and I resent the interruption.
Keith takes me up on the request and says “Fly Me to the Moon,” and I play “The Entertainer.” No one finds it funny. I’m not surprised.
Keith yells out some more ideas. He’s drunk, loud Keith, I’ve seen it a ton of times. He yells, “Rolling Stones.” I start playing the chords for “Sympathy for the Devil.” He says he doesn’t recognize it (maybe my piano playing sucks, who knows). He starts naming Rolling Stones songs it might be.
At this point, the guy next to him smiles and stage whispers to Keith, “Go play the drums.” Keith gets a broad grin on his face, and gets up to play the drums.
Now, if you know Keith at all, and have seen him in action - particularly when he’s drunk AND he’s got someone to “playfully” harass AND some guys to show off for - you can predict how comically lousy this drumming is going to be. It will be completely interruptive, to say the least. That’s the joke, you see, that he came in and just ruined everything.
That’s when I see there’s going to be no stopping Keith from owning this room, and there’s no place for me in this equation. It's not just about being around a guy who's drunk, it's about being chased out of your space.
I don't own it, I know. It's a bar, sure. But that piano, and that hour or so of a quiet room meant a hell of a lot more to me than playing the damn drums or hearing "Fly Me to the Moon" meant to Keith.
At this point, I admit, I had enough. Keith, when he’s drunk, just has no respect. And with his 3 friends chuckling at everything he’s doing and egging him on, he won’t be denied. I obviously wasn’t going to get any peace, and my reason for being there was blown.
So when his friend grins and says, “Go play the drums,” and Keith excitedly gets up to run over to the drum kit, I stand up and pick up my jacket. I said, “That’s it.”
Keith makes that huge act out he does, the feigned innocence. “WHAT?!”
He says, “WHAT?! I just want to PLAY with you!”
I said, “I don’t want to play with you. I gotta go.”
He says “WHAT?!! WHY!!??”
I said, “You guys are drunks. You guys are dicks. Keith, you’re the biggest dick in the room.”
Keith said something I didn’t catch while I was walking through the door, and I stuck my head back in, looked directly at Keith and said, “Fuck you.”
And then I left.
People have drunk at that bar every night I’ve ever been at The Creek, and I’ve never yelled at anyone. I don’t have a problem getting away from drunk people, and I’m not “losing it.” I didn’t “flip out” and I’m not mentally unstable.
I words I quoted above are exact. It wasn't a stream of cursing I've reduced or edited. I said those exact 18 words. That's what all this is about.
You can question whether or not I overreacted. Maybe you think it's stupid or lame or whatever that I enjoy a musical instrument and want to unwind playing the piano. To Keith and his friends, this was hoo-hah party situation, and he just refused to respect my right not to take part in that. Whether you agree or not, my response wasn't pointless. I'm not crazy. I had a reason to be frustrated and angry, because I'd just been pushed out of a space I really enjoy just for the amusement of Keith and his friends.
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