The Doorman’s Diary: 1.8-9.11

Almost from the moment I arrived at my post, the trickle of customers began. The first was a chocolate-skin beauty who tried her best to connive her way in without paying the cover. “I thought if you arrive before the music, you get in free? I came here for the singer, when does she start?” Her coy obstinate ploy was becoming irritating, so I told her to come in and have a drink and when the music starts she’ll have to pay. She sidled up to the bar, pulled out a tea packet and asked for hot water. The bartender adroitly suggested that she try across the street where they serve food then come back when the music starts. She bought it and left. The bartender growled, “she’s got money—I saw a healthy wad when she was fishing for her tea bag—make sure she pays the cover.” She returned after her tea and I gladly did. The entitlement of beauty stopped at the door. The club was filling nicely when a guy pushing an empty wheelchair clunked his way in. He was using the chair like a walker, although it appeared he could be in it. I asked for the cover and he said, ”I’m a musician.” To which I said, “Great! Then you understand how the door makes live music possible!”  He started fumbling with his chair as though leaving, so I invited him in. When he parked his wheelchair off to the side and walked unaided to the bar, I thought “what a brilliant scam.” A little later, the guest vocalist walks up to me with the miraculously recovered biped with his off-kilter grin and says, “He doesn’t need to pay, he’s on my guest list.”  I guess I was so impressed with the audacity and thoroughness of the wheelchair scam that I didn’t have the fire to tell her she doesn’t have a guest list.  He accomplished his goal of avoiding the five bucks at the door.  In hindsight, I missed a matchmaking opportunity… the tea-drinking beauty and the wheelchair scammer beast.