The Doorman’s Diary: 5.14-15.11

Natural dualities occur in life—dark and light, female and male, low and high, cold and hot—and in the case of the jazz club, the yin and yang are dead and busy. Yesterday was dead; tonight is jammed. As I grow older and develop more experience as The Doorman, I realize how unpredictable human nature is. In literary talk, it was “a blistery night.” There was rip-the-door-off your Jeep Wrangler wind and acupuncture needle raindrops. One had to wonder why anyone would venture out on such a fierce night. But they came, which was wonderful to see. As The Doorman, I observe humanity… and I’m concluding that all humans are insecure or crudely stated, efed up. Insecurities are astutely apparent in some mid- to late-thirties types. At that age, youthful beauty begins to wan and people try harder. We had a slew of them tonight. There were two thirty-something birthday parties—one for twin women and another for a man who apparently had lost several buttons on his shirt, since much of his hairy chest was exposed. Both party groups of seven or eight appeared hell-bent to convince themselves that they can still be party animals. They talked and laughed loudly and struck poses for their point-and-shoots to document the out-of-control great time they were having. Independent of the par-tea people were a pair of 30-ish women in the club, who I began to think of as the 16-wheeler mudflap ladies (you know the silhouette). They helped me understand why women’s under garments are referred to as foundation wear. There appeared to be plenty of synching, tucking, pinning, and uplifting to create their curvaceous profiles