So, recently, we had a bad experience at a club. It was one of perhaps one million bad experiences we’ve had at clubs, and it got us thinking about the universality of such events. We were waiting to get into Suzie Wong for a party for which we were on the list. We even knew the people throwing it. But for some reason, the doorman wouldn’t let us in. Cell phones didn’t work inside the club, so we couldn’t reach our friends. We patiently explained the situation to the doorman, who responded with disdain and rudeness. (We’re apparently not the only people to have trouble at this club.) We decided to sit and wait politely, which is humiliating but almost always works eventually. But as time went by, and we kept getting the “We’re at capacity” excuse, even though the doorman was letting other (much more trashy, might we add) guests in ahead of us, we started getting mad. This guy may be an idiot, we thought, but surely he recognizes the face we are making. You know, the “I’m going to be patient, but you have NO idea who you are messing with” face?
Then, without warning, our rage ballooned over appropriate levels, and we did the unthinkable. With the cold fires of hatred boiling underneath our mirthless chuckle, we played that ultimate tragic card. We stalked off, but not before asking, “What is your name?” How humiliating! We were reduced to the old “May I speak to your supervisor?” move! Since then, we’ve recovered, but the feeling of powerlessness, the need for swift and vicious revenge, has stuck with us. And it made us realize, this happens to everyone. Every single person who goes to clubs in the city has a moment where they want to kill a doorman. So make us feel better! In the comments, we want to know about all of your terrible doorman stories. Did Armin from Bungalow ever make you cry? Did Kylie from Cain ever push you to assault? Tell us! Name names!
And, by the way, the name of our terrible doorman was Michaelangelo.
Ah, that felt good.