When I arrived, the jazz trio was already set up. The trio—jazz guitar, electric bass, and drums—was a different sound from what we usually hear. I know this is awful to say—and I likely will regret it at a later time—but it had a plain-vanilla, Muzak feel at times. Both the guitarist and bass player had wonderful and dynamic fingering and the drummer kept the beat moving forward, but…….. Our crowd for the night appeared to enjoy the trio, so I’m hoping my critique is way off. I had two problematic customers who I’ve encountered before that I, The Doorman, handled quite well. The first was a middle-aged couple who tried to walk through me. He said, “We don’t pay the cover; we’ll spend more than enough at the bar to cover it.” I remember them from a previous time and I had let them in, but later when I had checked with the bartender he said “They had one drink and pretty much drained their water glasses several times after that, and didn’t tip.” So this time, I insisted they pay. They paid with his condition that I never agreed to: “If we don’t like the music, you’ll refund one of the covers.” They went to a table and I watched the waitress’ face as they tried their “let’s make a deal scam” with her. Later I learned that they asked what drinks are for free tonight—insisting that they always receive a free drink because they paid the cover. The second problematic customer was the wheelchair scammer. The guy pushes a wheelchair around like it’s a walker and appears to be fully capable of walking unaided. I stopped him outside before could bang his wheelchair through the door and said firmly, five dollar cover. He fumbled in his pockets and pulled out receipts, spent tissues, scraps of paper, and one crumpled Washington. “All I’ve got is a dollar, talk to the bartender, he’ll let me in.” Alright, I said, and closed the door in his face. Went inside, waited 40 seconds, then opened it and said the bartender agrees with me that you need to pay the cover, plus he won’t let you stay unless you buy a drink…. sorry, man.