No one got hurt. It was meaninglessly minor. She grabbed my throat, spit on the heavy set dude with the big shirt and insulted that Christian Bale look alike. We split and spilt beers with her outside. She borrowed your lighter; won you over with her crooked smile and crow’s feet. You said the beer tasted like coconut and cigarettes.
Then she fled.
Said she had a midnight tee time. We had a nowhere to be time.