The Cheap Bottle Of Champagne

Props to you if you can steal my drink without me noticing. My mind must’ve been elsewhere to not give a damn about the product of my hard labor. But if I catch you stealing my drink, and you double down, then we have a problem.

There is a bar in Rio called Ovelha Negra (Black Sheep) that doesn’t sell beer, wine, or spirits—just champagne. It was embarrassing for my Danish roommate when we went the first time and he asked for Skol, a cheap Brazilian beer you can get for $1.50 on the street. He realized the type of establishment he was at and quickly adjusted, adopting more of a nouveu rich accent that would have the King of Denmark proud.

The bar has only one room in the shape of a long rectangle. There are little tables on one side and then a big table in the middle where most of the action happens. Starting at 6pm the place packs with the professional happy hour crowd. Almost everyone speaks English and $1,000 jailbroken iPhones make constant appearances.

It can be challenging to pickup here because everyone is in large groups, but really it’s not because those guys with the girls are usually coworkers. Girls are looking to flirt, and Danish and I have done well enough that we’ve become regulars. The young bartender with the moppy haircut greets us with a thumbs up whenever we come in but I keep forgetting his name. I think it’s Thiago.

It was so packed one night that we ordered two bottles to ride out until closing. A lot of people go to a place like this and get the second cheapest bottle of champagne, or at least something that’s not the absolute cheapest, but we always get the cheapest (R$ 37). We don’t know the difference between a champagne and sparkling cider and we’re not going to pretend like we do. Is it making us burp? Are we feeling tipsy? Garçon this is great champagne!

My roommate likes to start his approaches with a cigarette angle. If we’re outside he asks for a light and if we’re inside he asks to bum a cigarette. He did this on one girl and she walked out with him to find smokes from a street vendor, leaving me with the bucket of two open champagne bottles. By now we had finished one and was about to get started on the other. As usual the bartender put a salt solution in our bucket, ensuring the second would be near freezing temperature when we were ready for it.

The bucket was on the communal table and I stood in front of it behind a high bar chair. To my right was a girl that looked cute from the back—I was working on getting facial confirmation—and to her right was an obviously drunk girl in a white dress. Sitting next to her was a guy petting her back, her boyfriend maybe, or at least trying to be for the night. Across the table were three more of their friends.

I’m standing there with my champagne glass, trying to act cool, when I see the drunk girl in the white dress reach over and grab the neck of our full bottle. Good thing I was watching it, I thought.

“No no no excuse me that’s our bottle.” I said it very loud, almost shouting, because I know how drunk people can be hard of hearing when it comes to things that hint at possibly limiting their alcohol intake. My face had not a hint of humor or generosity or kindness or anything to suggest I wasn’t serious. I was a father scolding his little girl.

The bottle was now out of the bucket, dripping with icy water as it very slowly traveled past the girl next to me and directly in front of white dress. It approached her glass. There was no time to think about specific actions. No time to devise a battle plan. The autopilot light in the cockpit burns bright orange and your belief system take over.

“Hey hey no, that’s mine and I’m sorry but you can’t have any.”

From the side of her face I could see a quick frown, but she kept going. Her right hand began tilting the bottle towards her glass. She looked at me, squinted her eyes, and then made the “just a little bit” sign with her left hand. She didn’t care what I said and was going to take whatever she wanted.

Slow motion. I’m moving. The weight of my body shifts to my left foot and then I take a big step with my right. I’m next to her friend now, touching the side of her body. My hand shoots like a rocket from my hip. It’s flying through the air across the table. I’m leaning. The back of my right shoulder hits the chin of the girl next to me. She scrunches her face and flinches backwards. White dress is beginning to pour, an entitled, upper-class smirk on her face. I make contact with the neck of the bottle. My hand muscles tighten. Death grip. My knuckles are white. I tilt it upwards. I’ve stopped breathing. Now I’m snatching and pulling. Pulling away. It’s raining champagne like New Years on my arm, on the drunk girl, on the girl who got sidearmed, on the guy who wants to get laid. Cheap champagne on the dark wood table, on professional work clothes. I’m pulling still, and bring it safely back to my side. I step back. Less than a second.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING YOU DON’T JUST STEAL SOMEONE’S FUCKING BOTTLE LIKE THAT WITHOUT ASKING WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE I DON’T BELIEVE THIS SHIT!”

I’m flailing my left arm in the air like an excited monkey. My right hand is still squeezing on tight to the cheap bottle of champagne. My arm and hand is wet and cold. Then silence.

White dress is beginning to cry. Her five friends are staring at me with their mouths gaped open. Half of the bar is looking at me. I’m the bad guy, the arrogant, angry gringo who doesn’t know the capitals of European countries and comes to Brazil only to bang prostitutes and do cheap drugs.

Fuck you all I don’t care what you think.

All her friends gave me the “calm down” sign, apologizing. I pursed my lips and nodded my head up and down. I took a deep breath then put the champagne bottle back in the ice bucket.

I looked at her glass. Only a few drops made it in.

76 Comments
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The Rookie
The Rookie
10 years ago

Clockin the girl in the chin would’ve been enough to make my night.

Did you demand the few drops back??

Tampa
Tampa
10 years ago

Nice move. Fuck that scank fucking whore. Just because you have a twat and some perky tits, doesn’t give you the right to bodog my fucking champagne. What a skank ass hooker. Do I paw your fucking sushi you slut? Do I sanke a sip of your bottled water when you aren’t looking? Get your grubbing hands off my fucking drink. I’m not banging you, therefore you don’t get any. Go find another sucker. Who raised you? Jeb Stuart?

Nice move. Remember: “A man can’t ride your back unless it’s bent.”

Josh
Josh
10 years ago

God damn right.

Dude
Dude
10 years ago

Good for you. When I walk the streets of DC, I never move out of the way for women by themselves. If it’s a mom with stroller or kids, sure. Same if it is a guy with his girl. But biatches who feel entitled to guys buying them things, moving out the way, giving up chairs . . . fuck no.

I’ve done a test and noticed how none of these chicks ever moves out of the way. Guys will. But a woman never does, so I end up usually bumping into them. Hey, they should be more conscious of where they are walking and get the fuck out of the way and not think the guy has to do it every time.

I’ve knocked one so that she skidded against the bricks in Gtown and almost fell on her face while many others have look back shocked or say something. I always say something back if they do, and am not afraid to say “Go fuck yourself your stupid bitch” if they talk smack.

Lest anyone think I do this intentionally . . . I don’t. I walk straight and if I’m walking down M and a girl comes out of a shop and gets in my line of advance and is walking toward me, I don’t move. I have the right away. Then we bump and maybe she thinks to be more aware next time and less entitled. This lesson on the importance of situational awareness and not being a cunt may save her life some day.

thedcam
10 years ago

I’m waiting for the follow-up to this story that should end in a crime scene and a partially burned and tattered white dress.

thedcam’s last blog post: The Fakest Street Ever.

Culcept
10 years ago

Great story and well told Roosh! I guess girls really think they can get away with stuff like that if they are ‘pretty’ enough. Its possible because of that move, many men will no longer suffer at the hands of that bitch.

If you’ve never made a girl cry, you don’t got game yet.

Culcept’s last blog post: Sunday Cannon Fodder (Part 1).

The G Manifesto
10 years ago

I am sure you are the last person that cares, but R$ 37 my guess is you were drinking Prosecco or Cava, not Champagne.

“I’ve stopped breathing.”

Always remember to breathe. You have more power that way.

– MPM

The G Manifesto’s last blog post: Cracking The West Coast Hipster Girl Code.

Justin
Justin
10 years ago

I think roosh is working on a moviescript!

Aenigma
Aenigma
10 years ago

A woman’s default action, when she’s in the wrong, is to attempt to paint herself as the victim to garner sympathy and support from the surrounding group. You’re the victim of standard woman Operating procedures.

azuzuru
azuzuru
10 years ago

You over-reacted. Too emotional.

A better response might have been “hey, that’s uncool. now you’ll have to come home with me” said with a smirk while you snake your hand around her waist for cheap feel.

Matt Savage
10 years ago

Bravo! Sometimes a man has to put his foot down and stand up for his principles.

There is nothing that gets on my nerves more than a drink stealer. Kind of reminds of the time I was in college and some self entitled scholarship linebacker decided to swipe my pitcher of beer while I wasn’t looking, and despite his being five times bigger then me, didn’t stop me from scolding his poor behavior.

Matt Savage’s last blog post: The Art of Vajazzling.

Tyler
10 years ago

Azuzuru, are you kidding?

Tyler’s last blog post: Push Yourself.

Carl Sagan
Carl Sagan
10 years ago

lol, good story.

Jay Gatsby
Jay Gatsby
10 years ago

Hate to break it to you, but you overreacted (as evidenced by the reactions of the drunk girl’s friends and half the bar). Accompanied by a dirty look (and perhaps a finger wagging “no, no”), you should have just taken the bottle and put it back where it belonged.

RR
RR
10 years ago

I would not have done that, don’t risk a fight in a foreign land.

aha
aha
10 years ago

funny story. you should have taken the bottle from her, then sprayed her with some of the champagne (bubbly is cheap enough to do this). “you want some of this!?? have some more!!” spray then pour the last of it in your glass. execute smoothly. scan the room for any onlookers, and raise a toast in their direction. live and learn. better to give than to receive.

Cali Cyco
Cali Cyco
10 years ago

There are bitches like these all across the globe that try to pull a stunt like this to get free liquor. There just hoping that the guy is a chump and won’t do shit. Good move Roosh who gives a fuck how others perceived the incident.

Giovonny
Giovonny
10 years ago

maybe Roosh should have been a little more playful with his response. Who knows?

But this is what happens when you have strong inner game. You don’t feel you need to take shit from anyone.

Sometimes being a dick turns them on.

Willy Wonka
10 years ago

Good job, Roosh. That cunt got what she deserved.

Although, it probably would have been best if you grabbed the bottle before she started pouring, then none of it would have spilled….. but, then it wouldn’t have been nearly as entertaining of a story.

Willy Wonka’s last blog post: Is There a Place for Crushing in Game?.

Cali Cyco
Cali Cyco
10 years ago

@RR How could you not stand up to someone who is blatantly stealing something from you? If someone tries play captain save a hoe and picks a fight he is in the wrong and it probably won’t get physical.

Anonymous
Anonymous
10 years ago

roosh, you wrote a blog about how you were so broke you would steal people’s drinks at the bar…

what’s different between what you did and what she did? the only difference i can see is that you didn’t get caught in the act.

CZ
CZ
10 years ago

Not an over-reaction, but rather a decent tit for tat escalation. “All her friends gave me the “calm down” sign, apologizing.” Interesting to me, and a good part of the story, I thought, was the problem of not breathing, of being tense, of time slowing down. It’s not easy to be assertive; to be physical, to move and do in what could be miscontrued as an aggressive act. Guys like ‘Dude’ seem to have tasted blood and become bullies. It’s decent people who stress out the most –some to the point of freezing-up, when faced with situations that have only limited solutions. “Your ass ain’t talking your way out of this shit,” comes to mind. Call it a bug or a feature, but Fight Club made this point too: we’re so civilized we have a big block when it comes to reacting.

Anonymous
Anonymous
10 years ago

22 Anonymous,

Clearly you missed the point of the story. The difference is that Roosh had to steal drinks because he was broke, while this woman felt that she was entitled to take what she wanted. There is a huge difference between stealing out of necessity (think Jean Valjean from Les Miserables) and stealing out of conceit.

Aenigma
Aenigma
10 years ago

“Clearly you missed the point of the story. The difference is that Roosh had to steal drinks because he was broke, while this woman felt that she was entitled to take what she wanted. There is a huge difference between stealing out of necessity (think Jean Valjean from Les Miserables) and stealing out of conceit.”

You’re kidding right? You don’t “need” alcohol- Roosh is just as much in the bad for actually stealing as she is; he felt “entitled” to drink and took what he wanted.

The difference is that she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar and blatently disrected Roosh by fucking stealing right in front of him and by telling him, in the form of her actions, I’m doing it anyway, go fuck yourself if you don’t like it.

Its the difference between a faceless thief slinking off into the night with your goods and a guy grabbing a wallet out of your hands, spending the money in front of you and then looking into your face and saying “yea- what you gonna do about it punk?”

Quasi
Quasi
10 years ago

I think the morale of the story is, “dont take shit from anyone” and who care how people react and feel, the onlookers didnt even see what happened, they just makeup they own story and think whatever suits them. I like the part about rather waisting it than letting her take it with specifically told not to to so.. who cares if it cheap or not.. that besides the point it just fucking rude to take whatever you want in clear view.. probably take a long time before she tries shit like that again..