I love douchebags. They're always so much fun. For example:
1) I'm standing in like behind this douchebag at the corner bodega. He's got all the hallmarks of douchey-ness. Spikey mohawk? Check. Barbed wire bicep tat? Check. Too-tight t-shirt to show off his pectoral superiority? Double-check. He's in line to buy gel for his spike-tastic do, but the hair products are kept behind the counter. Bless her, the woman behind the counter is being patient with him, as he keeps asking her to take stuff down off the shelf, then put it back. "I'm sorry," he says, "I forgot my glasses." (Bonus douche points: He pays is $2.72 bill with a $100).
2) These two douche-tards from Ireland walk into the restaurant to eat. I always thought douche-ness was limited to the good 'ole U.S. of A. Now the restaurant is completely empty, except for this table of two women, so, of course, they demand to sit down right next to them. Then, they buy the girls a bottle wine. The women are polite, and gladly down that bottle of wine. But when it's time to go, they say "thanks" and "see ya!" Which pisses off douche #2. I guess they figured New York girls are easy (and not the man-eaters that they really are), and douche #1 had talked douche #2 to spend some of their precious coin on the women. Now that the deal was definitely not sealed, douche #2 had buyer's remorse, and blamed his buddy. They almost came to blows right here at the bar.
I wasn't going to serve them because a) they were drunk and b) they were belligerent. But it was fun watching them push and shove each other. I was hoping they'd come to blows, because I wanted to show them Rikers as part of their glorious vacation package.