10 things the Door Guy hates about you
|Photo by Erik Hess|
The Door Guy
is a veteran of countless clubs around town. People say they've seen it
all, but he's seen more. Write to him for everything from live advice
to life advice.
Dear Door Guy: I was one of those people in the front row at the Triple Rock last spring who got to endure the awkward experience of watching Danny Brown get head during his set. It was really gross, and we deserved better. I'm no angel, but I want to be good. So, I'm wondering, what else can we do to avoid pissing off the door guy?
Seriously? We're still talking about the Great Danny Brown Wardrobe Malfunction? Didn't we cover this twice already? At this point this "incident" has been mined for internet hits like six times. We as a nation must heal. If this column helps that process, great.
I took a quick poll at our secret Door Guy clubhouse and collectively, everyone agrees that here are the absolute worst possible things to deal with. For the love of God, don't do any of these things:
Your Public Sex
Seriously. It happens. And, ew. It's worst in big clubs with lots of nooks and crannies. Nobody wants to glance over to a private, discreet dark corner during their favorite band playing and see people banging. But I've seen people's definition of "private" and "discreet" get pretty loose by the end of an evening, and suddenly, that naughty turn-on you might experience finding a hidden spot to get dirty just turns into people averting their eyes and pretending that you aren't getting fingerbanged outside the bathrooms while people are waiting in line to take a piss. For real. Ew.
But more important than the total ew factor is that when people go to bars and night clubs, they drink. And sometimes they drink until they make bad decisions, and sometimes they drink until they aren't capable of making decisions. Which means that when you and your special friend for the next five minutes get caught awkwardly trying to maintain an erection while not knocking over a bar stool, any door guy or bouncer in town isn't going to know if what's happening is two people having consensual (but totally gross) sex or rape. Yuck. Don't do it. If you see it, tattle.
Your Impossible Expectations
On the topic of tattling, since you were (STILL!) griping about Danny Brown's penis, we are not omnipotent, we cannot be everywhere at once. There's no such thing as instant response time, and sometimes things that shouldn't happen still happen. Whatever happened that night that permanently fixed the image of Danny Brown getting a beej in your eyes, it is absolutely not a negative reflection on the venue or its staff. Random oral is exactly that--random. It was over in about five seconds. That's before anyone could react, and certainly before a staff person would have been alerted to it. Yet in the aftermath, some folks got all Reverend Moore in Footloose about it, blaming "the venue" for not preventing all that damn sin and dancing and if only Kevin Bacon would go back to the big city with his skinny ties and flashy moves. If you were one of these people, try running through a crowded room of people watching a show without knocking someone over. See how long it takes.
|Photo by Erik Hess|
|What's right with this picture? No one is using their face as a wallet. Thank you.|
Your Icky Mouth
Speaking of gross things in your face: It doesn't matter if it's the hottest day of summer or the deadest day of winter, I don't care if your hands are full of your fixie's saddle bags or you're just trying to peel off seven layers of gloves, please, for the love of God, don't put your ID, your ticket, or your money in your mouth. Your mouth is not a convenient caddy when your hands are otherwise occupied. It is a disgusting germ factory full of filth. When you put something in it that is going to be in my hand five seconds later, I want to go wash myself with steel wool.