The Doorman’s Diary: 8.10.12

The old timer super-accomplished jazz guitarist played with a taught trumpet player, stand-up bass (YES, the way jazz bass should be), and a drummer. It felt right and clearly sounded the way jazz should sound. A small group came to the club. They are headed up by a hyper-enthused gentleman who is a long-time jazz drummer and includes a friend and her adult son who are visiting from Greece. I was glad to see an irregular regular show up with his seeing-eye dog. I made sure to phrase my greeting better than the last time, when I said something like “You haven’t seen us in awhile” – ugh! The couple accompanying him are regulars and the man in the couple is a hand percussionist. Suddenly a pair of bongos appears in his hands and he joins the group for a couple of numbers and adds some Latin spice to the music. Very impressive contribution, since the quartet clearly has heavyweights that leaves no holes in their music. It was neat to see how seamlessly they made room for very note being expertly pounded on the skins. The absorption was complete. Later in the night a couple arrives that I immediately fall in love with. I know that doesn’t sound professional for The Doorman to admit, but it was clear that they are both genuinely good, friendly, and from the astute perspective of The Doorman it was clear they belong to each other. When he was at the Men’s Room, I learn that she’s 28, they’re on their 5^th or 6^th date, she loves jazz and blues but he doesn’t, he’s a kind and gentle man, he’s more of a dog person where she is neutral on the dog vs. cat question, and she has a 9-year-old daughter. I looked into her cute face and said, “If you at all wonder whether there’s a future with this guy, let me bestow the wisdom of The Door on you… your daughter can see through any façade, game-playing, or walls better than Superman’s X-ray vision, so if she likes him and thinks that he’s genuinely good, my advice is to set the hook and reel him in.” She nodded her head vigorously and said, “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking, you’re right!” I returned to my post and crossed my fingers in the hopes that I am privileged to be witnessing the beginnings of a beautiful relationship.

The Doorman’s Diary: 5.26.12

As The Doorman at the jazz club, I’m expected to exercise discretion.  I am the stoic, but welcoming face at the door. Since the club attracts all kinds, I pride myself in being accepting and nonjudgmental. I’d never make fun of anyone. That’s why I was mortified by my faux pas. It came out inadvertently. Here’s what happened: Every few months we have a jazz-loving blind man who comes to the club. He’s usually accompanied by his trickster service dog who I swear pulls antics because he knows his master can’t see. The malicious mutt will jam his snout into my crotch while I’m engaged in a serious, civil conversation with the owner or splay his laird-ass body on the floor blocking passage for the wait staff in our intimate-sized club. I like the vision-impaired gentleman. I don’t trust his dog. So when he shows tonight, I was happy to see him and glad he left the dog behind. Enthusiastically, I blurt out “Long time no see!” Geeze, I could have phrased it better. Ugh! What could be worse? I suppose I could get someone at the door with a prominent facial mole fumbling with their money and apologizing that they’re paying the cover with five crumpled-up singles and repeating that they’re sorry and me saying something stupid like, “It’s all good… don’t make a mountain out of a mole hill.” And then learning they had gone out for Mexican, and asking “So, did you have chicken mole… I’ve heard their mole sauce is real good.”