With the year fast coming to a close, the jazz club becomes a choice location for a number of home-for-the-holidays gatherings and celebrations, including a jazz singer’s long-time-a-comin’ college graduation party. The crowd was hummin’ with Christmas spirit. Even my old nemesis, the Truman-Capote-look-alike from the 11/27-28/10 night showed up hoping for entry. A couple of weeks after that eventful night, he had shown up sober and I let him in. That night he had become incessantly intimidating to the club owner with his ceaseless prattle and was shown the door. Tonight, he was again filled with more THC than TLC. One might ask, if the doorman, being filled with the spirit of the holidays, would let bygones be bygones and warmly welcome the loathsome one? Would I? Hell no. I was explaining the benefits of him going elsewhere when things escalated a bit. He was wagging his finger in my face making a pointless point, when the drummer who was standing nearby during a band break jumped in and said, “You DO NOT shake your finger in the face of The Doorman.” How true I thought, as the “discussion” shifted to the two of them and my remembering that the drummer has a short fuse. Before I knew it, the drummer was grabbing his shirt collar and escorting him out. When the door shut behind the two of them I immediately went outside and grabbed the drummer saying, “DON’T – your hands are worth more holding sticks than broken from rearranging this sorry ass’ face.” It worked and we re-entered the club in time for the second set where we were all treated to an especially vigorous drum solo in the first song. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Kwanzaa!!
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