Saturday, September 22, 2012

The Doorman’ s Diary: 9.21.12

Epitome of a jazz-cool night. Trio is exceptionally crisp. The drummer shows virtuoso competence beyond compare. He clickety-clacks the rim and under taps the cymbal all in a manner of maintaining the rhythm. The stand-up bass and electric piano aren’t laggards either. Later they are joined by a cool cat singer and then the kid on alto – both have wandered in to the club and are pleasant diversions, although unnecessary. The trio is that good and each song is passionately fresh. There are three jazz appreciators of note tonight. An early 20’s couple approaches me at the door but like frightened sparrows they flit away after I ask for the cover. “Hold on,” I command. “I’ll let you in free, but you must pinky swear that  you’ll come back, if you have a good time.” They come in and clearly enjoy themselves, ballroom dancing to a couple of songs. When they leave they effuse as to how much they enjoy the music, like the feel of the club, and how they owe it all to me. “We’ve never had a door man pinky swear with us and make us feel so welcome.” I fight the temptation to burst their joy-joy bubble with a snide remark and surprise myself by saying something gracious like, “Glade to hear it… you two made my night.” The second guest of interest is a transgender individual. Broad shoulders and hands of a union steamfitter, this woman-man is clearly a knowledgeable jazz appreciator. S/he is earnestly happy to have found the club and is pleasant and likeable. She’s a relatively recent transplant from Brooklyn, so I connect her with a regular to the club, a jazz-loving truck driver who is also from Brooklyn. They were talking about streets they lived on and all the saints and sinners places they used to frequent. In the end, s/he’s giving him her business card and he’s saying “I’ll definitely call you and I’ll take you out for dinner.” I love the jazz club. Differences and oddities make no difference and people are liked for who they are. The last jazz fans of note had snuck in while I’m taking photos of guests for the club’s Facebook page. It is too late to collect a cover, so I don’t bother. As I’m leaving for the night, I ask if I can photograph them for the FB page. They’re a pleasant and friendly black couple, so I felt comfortable complimenting the young woman, “You look amazing,” I say. “Your blonde hair is remarkable and really flatters you.” And it does.

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