My occasionally snarky thoughts on everything from motherhood, politics, life and current events. Cocktails are sometimes mandatory. Bottoms up!

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

A New to Me Blogger.....

.....pretty cool IMO

So as I surfed around this afternoon (aka avoiding housework) I came across a 'new to me' blog that deserves a Heh. Indeed. *and* Read the whole thing... You should go check out the really different and really well written Clublife. A sample:

Dear Neophyte Bouncer,
It is not good to choke people. You can get in big trouble. Do not attempt to choke people on the job unless you have a minimum of three years training in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, or some other martial art that utilizes submission holds, so you know when to stop before your victim gets seriously hurt.

What's it all about? Saving face? Not backing down? Don't wanna be nobody's bitch? Is it really that hard for you to take an order? To follow a directive? To not break the law? I suppose I could have talked you out of it myself easily enough, had Vito not involved himself. Shit, that's what they're paying me for, right? And what set you off was the fact that the second person involved in the problem wasn't a bouncer. He was a customer. An equal, or so you thought. We both know that's not how it is, though, don't we? You're not equals here. There are people in this life that simply aren't to be fucked with, and you fucked with one of them, and you knew it. You preyed upon everyone's good nature. Mine, because you knew I'd do my fucking job and make sure nothing happened to you. And Vito's, because you knew you weren't gonna get whacked in the middle of the VIP room.

This is New York City. The major leagues. You never, ever know whom you're fucking with here. Ever. That's why people get murdered. Because they wake up in the morning and think they're wearing a suit of armor, and they've got nothing to back up that feeling -- nothing -- but they roll with it anyway and find out, the only way they can, that they were wrong. They cross the street without looking, trusting me to stop the car. You only get killed once, and if you've never been killed, maybe it's not as real to you as it should be. People kill here. Every day. Doesn't make it right, but you see the same kind of shit, over and over again, and you know damned well why.
"I can't accept this ID. It's expired."
"But it's my ID!"
"Oh, in that case, come right in!"

Are you fucking stupid? I didn't mean that. Sarcasm and facetiousness are evidently lost in translation at the front door of nightclubs. No, an expired driver's license isn't going to get you admitted. I couldn't give a flying fuck if it's "really you," or if your "wallet was stolen yesterday." Rules are rules, and we've all got to abide by them. Even you, dear Guido. Honestly, do you think I really care whether you get in or not? If it were up to me, you could all just come right the fuck in, burn the place to the ground, strangle all the bartenders and steal their cash, and then go home. You think I have an emotional investment in the place? Please.

Written by a self described bouncer at two of New York's most popular nightclubs his insight and stories are unique and like nothing I have read around the blogosphere. Check him out -- but plan to stay for a while! :-)