The Doorman’s Diary: 7.30-31.11

On my way in I stopped at the good coffee shop. Got a large coffee and a rice-crispy chunk and brought them to the club. Upon seeing me enter, the bartender said, “Nice!” He reached up and plucked a couple of glass coffee mugs from the rack. We were set to cluck like a couple of old birds for a half hour before the jazz night starts in earnest. After a good spell, a trio walked in—a jazz-loving dad visiting from Indianapolis, his son who works in town, and the son’s girlfriend. Daddio was excited to have found a jazz club. The tables and a healthy section of the bar were full before the quintet launched into its first song. It was shaping up to be a good night. The trumpet and sax players sounded especially good tonight. They tore through Cannonball Adderley, Sonny Stitt, Dexter Gordon, and Horace Silver songs. They were into a funked-up version of Miles’ All Blues when I tagged the cheapskate guy and his wife for the cover. He had danced, swerved, and tried to duck the cover, using the age-old, my-dog-ate-my-homework-style excuse: “We just want to have one drink…” I invited him in and said have a drink, listen to a couple of songs, and leave if the music doesn’t suit you. It was 45 minutes later and they were into their second drink when he reluctantly forked over two Lincolns. The night had cooled down outside when I went out to fold up the sidewalk. An older couple that had really been enjoying the music stepped outside and asked if they could sit down at the remaining table while waiting for their taxi. I said, Absolutely! – Did you enjoy yourselves? “We’re on our first date.” You’re joking right? “Nope, this is our first date,” the lady said.” Excellent, I said. Hope it’s one to be remembered I said with a wink.