A gentleman is a well-known pillar in his own community, and his renowned status of model citizen can usually be upheld with the occasional jacket draped over the puddle for a gentlelady, or the periodic rescuing of cats from trees with a well placed BB shot, or simply comforting the town’s wives when their husbands are at the office. However, once he’s left the comfort of his own bailiwick and entered onto foreign turfs, the gentleman’s actions must go above and beyond to truly prove himself as a civic hero to his new friends.

One of my friends was getting married and I was in the wedding.  The wedding was in Wichita Kansas which is not pretty much the asshole of the US , it IS the asshole of the US.  We start our evening drinking in probably the only hotel in Wichita not condemned which is near what they call “oldtown”.  We start our night out at a bar appropriately called the Pourhouse.  After throwing enough but not yet enough booze down, a friend and i decide it is time to lay prey to some cougars, being as some where eye raping us from across the bar.  staring back at them in my only way i know how (which ive affectionately been called Creep Dave by many girlfriends) they sense a game is a foot.  introductions to the older but perfect specimens plastically enhanced to goddess heights (ie. staring at nothing other than their breast which had one button holding on for its life) were as follows:

me: Ted Rithgin: an orthopedic surgeon from kansas city here for a wedding
Friend: Bruce Steel: Venture capitalist from Tennesse here also for the wedding.

The cougars = both nurses.  I of course say what I do before they chime in and start asking every question in the book about medicine.  after several minutes of fumbling around in circles with my nonsensical medical jargon they decide they have had enough of us being as they determined i was prob the worst surgeon in the world and my friend was nonstop laughing.  bidding them goodbye i get them one more drink and close my tab, so here comes my card and bam! card name isnt Ted Rithgin its my real name and then they promptly left without even their drinks.  epic fail on that!!  moving on to another bar we walk by some of what would be called “thugs” of columbia.  stereotypically dressed and not older than 19 they start heckling us with all sorts of terminology that did nothing but confuse us and make us laugh.  nevertheless, lead by me we retaliate the only way we know how yell at them to pull up there pants and get jobs and abruptly run into the bar.  being as we were obviously upper class for wichita the man getting married that weekend convinces the doorman we will be spending so much money here charging us a cover would be an insult and result in lost wealth to the bar…..red carpet to the balcony.  perch on the balcony looking over the sprawling metropolis that is downtown wichita kansas; we were kings.  that is when we spotted our ruffian friends below us and start back up with the heckling but this time much more harsh and outlandish being as we were in a dominate position.

this continued for sometime until i spied out of the corner of my eye a man who had had way to much libations for the night and was trying with constant fail to put the key into the drivers door.  at that instant the most logical thing came into my head, that being this man is way to drunk and shouldnt be driving so what should i do but make a citizens arrest!  after one second of convincing in my head it is the best thing to do. i yell it out to my friends and run down stairs out the door and into the parking lot to the drunkin man who at this time had actually managed to get the door open.  go to the door open it take the keys out and say “you are to drunk to drive, im making a citizens arrest!” all the while being 356 sheets to the wind myself.  a bewildered look came upon his face and simply asked if i could open his chew.  keys in hand i take the chew and open it for him to have.  at that moment he steps out of his lifted suburban and i see what im dealing with which was not apparent from the balcony.  6foot5inches of nothing but pure muscle prob 275 lbs brickshit house staring me down.  but not staring me down to kill me which i thought but for the precious cope in my hand. slobbering he happily takes that can back and puts half in his huge mouth.  i tell him he cant be driving he cant even get the door open and its safer to get a cab……but as i finished the sentence he tenses and i turn to see a police officer walking up to us to ask what is going on.  the officer asks him to walk to the back of the truck and asks me a few question.  i constantly repeat that i was making a citizens arrest in a drunkin slur that this man should not be driving.  i handed the officer the keys and chew and he walked to the back of the truck to talk to the man.  at this moment another officer comes walking up, he is maybe 5foot5inches a little guy at best.  with the sight of this man the drunk tenses and readies for attack.  one of the officers says “i wouldnt do that” but to late the drunk lunges.  straight out of a kung foo movie the little guy sweeps him, pins him, jumps off him and tases him in the back.  all the while the other cop is talking to me about the little guy being a 3 degree blackbelt and people always underestimate him all the while leaning against the truck likes its no big deal.

im shitting my pants at this point 4 feet from a massive man being tased and a cop joking about it to me.  just as i think it has calmed down the drunk is just laying on the ground 4 cop cars come flying up on the scene and the drunk jumps up with new sense of purpose and lunges at the officers again.  well the taser wasnt stopping him mcuh this time we was on his feet still walking and screaming (think incredible hulk being tased and not being affected thats what i was seeing a few feet from me.  he finally goes down with help from 5 police and numerous handcuffs.  at this point i dont believe im even in this situation it seems like a dream.  as my adrenalin comes down i start to get drunk again on the spot….time for witness statement! drunkinly ramble threw the events constantly congratulating myself to the police for making a citizen arrest on such a bad character.  after plenty of thank yous from the police for being brave and doing the right thing (not joking), they ask if there is anything else at all that they can do for me tonight. at that moment i scan the parking lot and who do i see but the kids we were harassing from the balcony.  so what do i do? i tell the police that that bunch of i quote “hoodlums” have been following us all night and giving us a hard time.  the officer gets his radio and simply points and says “get them over there, they are messing with these folks”. next second the group of 10-15 low class fellows are surrounded and being cuffed, as my friends who are still on the balcony are laughing with the owner out loud.  the officer then turns to me and asks “were are you staying tonight those thugs are not happy about what just happened to them”  me-”well right down the street officer” officer-”ok no problem they will take you with them” he points to 4 cop cars positioned on the road for us to walk in between as escorts back to the hotel.  I thanked him for the help and walked with full police escort back to the hotel room.

once back to the room we all are in shock at what all happened that night and are looking out the window and all the sudden what do we here but a semi-automatic weapon go off somewhere near the hotel.  well hearing this what is a real man to do? stay in the room?? hell no! investigate Sherlock Holmes style!!  getting on to the streets it is pure mayhem and madness people running everywhere and police cars flying here and there.  walking around we are just looking to find information on what happened or where is happened.  as we walk around more we all the sudden notice what looks like a shell casing on the ground and then look up and all over the ground is blood, shell, and there is a man in a ball further down the street.  we cant believe we have just walked on to the scene of a drive by shooting.  then a cop comes up to us and tells us to leave or we are going to get into trouble, but up come walking one of the cops who was involved in my earlier altercation. he merely says that its ok i was the guy from earlier who made a citizens arrest, to which the other guys says ok no prob. they turn around and start telling others to stay away like it was ok for us to be there but not others like we were not to touched.  turns out it was an asian street gang fighting over turf and blasted some dudes.  FYI in wichita asian street gangs are crazy.  all in all it was the craziest night yes night of my life.  as for the wedding it was ok we new it wouldnt last.  this is all true every word of it i even got called to testify in court for the hearing as a witness but i had to decline, mainly i didnt want to go to that shit hole wichita again.  later one of my friends was in wichita out at the bars and i dont know how but the drunk noticed him and bought him a drink for me, i guess i saved him from a felony and he got off with just a slap on the wrist.

RELATE POST: A Gentleman Travels

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16 Responses to A Gentleman is a Model Citizen

  1. I couldn’t read this for the horrible grammar.

  2. That was increasingly painful to read.

  3. Grammar, schmammar. There will be time for parsing sentences when you’re dead, my friends. Tales of wonder like this surpass any deficits of language, as they are told in the common tongue of the gentleman, a lingua franca of adventure.

  4. But wouldn’t you agree, Commander, that in order to regale fellow gentlemen of erudition with great tales, one should take it upon himself to employ basic grammatical skills?

  5. flat land gentleman

    As a Wichitan, I take umbrage to the claim and demand satisfaction by this poorly spoken sod.

  6. Commander, I could not agree more. This brave gentleman earned his citizenship that night, and what is United States citizenship without atrocious grammar and inane rambling.

    Fifty juleps to you, Citizen On Patrol.

  7. While I do appreciate this gentleman’s tale, I think it goes against the spirit of this website and muddies its aim. The Foggy Monocle’s main purpose is to provide a voyeuristic glimpse into the life of the modern gentleman; it is not an outlet for the writings of would-be Tucker Maxes. And even though you may ask, “Well, how would this be different had he submitted this story in AIM instant message format,” I would reply that the difference is that an instant message retains the purity and humility of unpremeditated writing, written in the heat of the moment (and many times the morning after). An instant message isn’t clouded by unnecessary words looked up in a thesaurus. The person writing it isn’t concerned with paragraph structure and using the perfect metaphors and similes to impress the readers. The instant message is more akin to how the person speaks in real life, which makes the story more believable and more enjoyable.

  8. I cracked a monocle trying to get through this debacle. I hope he’s a significantly more thorough doctor than writer.

  9. What pedestrian bunk! I hope this is satire because this alleged gentleman could not get through a sentence without making a mockery of the English language. A gentleman knows the difference between where and were, to and too, there and they’re. A gentleman punctuates his prose. A gentleman does not obsess about being “upper class” to feebly disguise his own proletariat status.

    You, sir, are no gentleman.

  10. Arthur Fonzarelli


  11. This story would have been more appropriate in the sister site “The Foggy Mind Your Own Fucking Business”.

  12. holy shit it’s the fonze!

  13. Andre, you’ve hit the nail on the head. Even if this had great grammar, what you’ve said is still quite valid. Bring on the IMs! Bring the passion my fellow gents!

  14. If anybody was able to decipher this gibberish, could they please post a concise summary of the story? I fainted attempting to read this nonsense.

  15. this was great

  16. New Title:
    In Which Snitches Bitchily Receive No Stitches in Wichita.

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