There is only one man in this world whose approval I seek: It is the club bouncer’s. The silent douche of the door until somebody crosses him (literally), the bouncer is superior in size to the promoter but was even less cool in high school. He was hired for an entry-level job and has stood at the door ever since.
I am no stranger to some of the toughest doors, both domestically and abroad. I have been welcomed and rejected to more clubs than an overachieving child of pushy immigrant parents. And I have to say, even when I do get past the burly guy and inside the club (which is more often than not, natch), I shudder the confrontation every time — especially in New York City.
Despite fully knowing that these surly men will eventually disappear along with the rest of night, doormen have this other-worldly power to make even the hottest and most confident of girls feel vulnerable or unwanted. The doorman is like the world’s worst boyfriend who demands you look up-to-par, manipulates his attention and always has the upper hand. And, like any bellicose MTV “Jersey Shore” character, he has no problem humiliating you in public or ruining your night.
Rocktographer(Live Music Photographer), Motorsports & Beach Sports Photographer, based in Las Vegas & the Beach Cities in California; Website Developer, Food & Drink Photographer, Enthusiast and Critic with No-Sugar-Coating Reviews, Sports Handicapper, etc.
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