How ordering an “angel shot” might help you escape a bad date

Illustration for article titled How ordering an “angel shot” might help you escape a bad date
Photo: Lawrence Vidot (EyeEm/Getty Images)

We missed this tactic when we compiled our list of the best ways to get out of a less-than-ideal date, but fortunately The Independent has the lowdown on “the secret code word that tells bar staff you want to escape a bad date.” That code word is actually two words: “angel shot.” According to not only The Independent but also and Good Housekeeping, that bar order indicates to your server that you need help getting out of a bad situation.


The Independent points to The Iberian Rooster nightclub in St. Petersburg, Florida, which posts the “angel shot” definition in the women’s bathroom, along with different levels of intensity: neat, and the bartender will take you to your vehicle; with ice, and they’ll call you a Lyft; with lime, they’ll call the police.

The “angel shot” is also reportedly a known signal at bars as far-flung as Arizona, South Africa, and the U.K. While we would love to see this practice go widespread, Snopes points out that you may be in a bar that is not familiar with the “angel shot,” and so may be better off asking for some help in a more direct manner. But some more posters like the Iberian Rooster’s would certainly be welcome in today’s Tinder-reliant dating climate: Heads up, bar and nightclub owners.

Gwen Ihnat is the Editorial Coordinator for The A.V. Club.


I guess this is nice, but I feel like every woman has to learn to look a creep in the face and say “you’re creeping me out and I’m leaving.”

I still remember the day I learned it. Tried to sneak away with an “I’m just gonna use the restroom” and when I went to book right for the front door, it turned out he had followed me and he stopped me to inform me that the bathrooms were to my left. After a minute gathering myself in the bathroom, I went out looked him in the face and told him I was leaving. Guy didn’t really like this, followed me out of the bar asking me where I was going & trying to get me to stay. Finally I told him “look, you were basically trying to f*ck me through my jeans in there, refused to give me any personal space even after I made several blatantly obvious attempts to claim it, and then pressed a chub against me. I’m out, leave me alone.” at which point he went on a rant as I was walking away that began with “that was my wallet!” and ended with that pitiful, last resort yell of “well, you’re not that hot anyway!” and, as shitty as the whole experience was, telling douches to douche off became a whole lot easier ever after.