(2002, Belgium) One night, I partied all night at a discotheque with
friends. Afterwards, we went to a "bar of the king" that was open day and
night. Such bars are known for housing thugs and pirates.
We, two men and two women, were sitting at a table drinking vodka and beer
when a big, mean-looking man approached the table and started talking shit.
He was so intoxicated that the collection of syllables he pronounced could
hardly be classified as a language. The girls were annoyed by his
presence, and -- typically -- tried to get rid of him by calling him names.
In response, the man seized an empty beer glass (in Belgium, a beer glass
is as thick as a normal jar) and bit into it, breaking off a piece. This
behavior is common in men who have unresolved frustration and need to show
their courage, so we weren't impressed. But then the man started chewing
the glass, and quickly bit off another chunk, chewing and biting until only
the very bottom of the glass remained, which he put back on the table.
We goggled at the man as he chewed the pieces, and we heard the glass
cracking between his teeth. Some blood came out of his mouth. He then
tried to swallow the glass, choked, and spat blood-soaked pieces onto the
table. Then he started gargling blood and fell to his knees.
We were too paralyzed by the event to move, but the bartender ran up to
help the man. He tried to remove the remaining glass from the man's mouth,
but the man bit the bartender's finger. I called an ambulance from my cell
phone. I don't know if the man survived. And I really don't know why he
did it. But remember this: if you have an iron stomach, make sure you
throat is iron, too.
"I think that he had one jar too many."
"I think the 'collection of syllables unidentifiable as a language' were
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