One night at Mad River in Federal Hill, an occasional City Paper contributor hanging out with friends from work got hot and took off his button-up shirt, exposing his V-neck T-shirt to the entire upstairs section of the bar/club. Before long, he was approached by a neckless and short bouncer who told him, "You gotta go." Unsure of the reason, the underdressed patron approached his friends at the bar, who he was counting on for a ride. Suddenly, the slightly drunk and confused kid in the V-neck had at least four bouncers flying at him from multiple directions. For a moment he teetered, with his legs and torso shoved in four different directions by bald torpedoes. Then he came crashing down in the middle of the dance floor underneath a pile of angry bouncers. It was time to go anyway, the lights were even coming on, so the kid threw himself out of the backdoor as one of the bouncers explained to his ride at the bar: "Uh, he violated the dress code." Maybe there's a reason all the dudes in Federal Hill dress the same.