The Doorman’s Diary: 11.12-13.11

She has a smile that could stop a freight train, which is why, when I heard the train chugging and rattling on the raised track across the street, I made sure to stick my head out the door to see how she was doing on her smoke break. Just checking, I said... want to make sure you weren’t kidnapped. “How sweeeet,” she gushed, turning “sweet” into a multisyllabic and reeling me into her vortex of charm. I quickly regained The Doorman composure and barked: Don’t stay out there long. She and her equally pulchritudinous friend are not overtly attractive, but if you violate the wild baboon rule of encounters you’re in trouble. Never look wild baboons (or these kind of women) straight in the eyes or engage them directly. Baboons become vicious; while these cuties lure you into major carve yours-and-hers-initials into tree trunks crushes. Fortunately, when I returned to my post, the jazz quintet was launching into a guan guanco Afro-Cuban rhythm version of Miles Davis “All Blues.” Thank goodness for jazz, thank goodness. Which is also the sentiment of the couple sitting at the bar within a long arm’s reach of the door. They had been sitting with broad smiles of their faces, bobbing and weaving with the music. I said, Enjoying the music...? “Thank goodness for live music, thank goodness for live jazz,” is what they said. I agreed and let my head-nodding follow the beat.