The Doorman's Diary 1.10.13

There is a blue hue to the night...as though a backlight was being smothered  by black cotton. It's comfortable, not menacing...a perfect night for jazz. I arrive for my duty at the door knowing I will enjoy the night more than I should. We have a jazz guitar quartet. The guitarist is ancient and could easily claim to have invented jazz. As far as he's concerned, he did...at least for the greater city where we live. He created the jazz program at the local music conservatory where most everyone in jazz with local roots has studied, taught, or tutored. He is a god. And like all old gods, he's cranky, impatient, and less perfect than he used to be. He still plays exquisitely but the the frenzy is gone. He's more relaxed, which matches my need for the night. It also matches the needs of a young couple, in town here for a government employee convention. They melted into their stools at the bar and had exhale aaaaaaahhh grins of satisfaction -- as did a foursome sitting next to them. I notice that two guys of the three guys and a young woman foursome has ordered Jameson neat. I mention to the Jameson sippers that they need to someday soon try the 18-year-old Jameson. I learn that they are both a couple years within university graduation--one is a CPA and the other a mechanical engineer. "You guys defy the stereotype of being quiet introverts," I say--realizing as I say it that I'm being rude. "Oh, not at all," they say. "In most instances, that's accurate." They are genuinely nice and likable guys, and emblematic of a generation that goes to a university for a profession, not to expand one's view of the world, and gets a high-paying job after graduation. The expectations are realized. The well-ordered plan is followed. I break from them and watch the old guitarist finger his way through a lovely solo and smile in appreciation knowing that my enjoyment--as well as everyone else's in the club--is his pay.