I had never heard of the Notting Hill Carnival, as I am sure most of you have not either. It has quite a proud, yet tumultous, history. If you have any interest check it out here. It is a celebration of the large Jamaican and Trinidad population of people in the area of Notting Hill. The area in which I live and work, and from my experience the best area of London. It is where some of the greatest music and art have come from in London. It is also an area mired in racial tension.

My pub, The Pelican, is in the heart of the action, and everyone told me to expect the craziest party Ive ever seen. Coming from New Orleans and Mardi Gras I dismissed them as silly Brits. I was the silly one. It was hands down the wildest 2-day party I have ever seen. I worked about 30 hours in 2 days staying awake by feeding off adrelane, booze, and drugs. All I could think is that I wish I had my true mates with me.

I bounced my first guy. He called one of my staff, Nadius, a "fuckin cunt." So I threw him against the door. He was about 5'5" and 120 lbs, but hey, I showed him. He then told me how he will come back and stab me. I'm waiting. I'd love a stab wound. Feeding off my testoerone, I tried to move a much larger, much blacker man from behind the bar. When he turned around he appeared to be on crack. Not that I know what that looks like, but crack is crack, and this mother was cracked out. He looked at me and then tried to head butt me. I moved back in time to just take it to the chin, and then he threw me down a couple stairs. As I collected myself I saw him charging at me while fishing for something in his pocket. I was scared. I heroically hid in the women's bathroom. The real bouncer we hired (Dre) got rid of him.

I realized I hadn't reported much from London, and I thought this was worth recounting. Cheers.