(An Old One) The Athens Door Guy attempts to be nice...
...and it didn't work. Here's what happened:
"So what's your address?" I asked the drunk kid, strongly suspecting he was underaged while closely inspecting his ID. It was a real drivers license, it just wasn't him. He was much shorter than 6'1. Plus, he looked about 12 years old.
"Uhhhh...I changed it recently." he stammered, looking a little nervous.
"Ok, well what's the one on the ID that I'm holding right now? Your old address."
"Dude, are you serious?" he asked, annoyed and looking directly at me now. The alcohol was taking over now.
"Sure...it's a simple question. Can you not answer it?" I asked back with a smile.
He gave an audible sigh and shrugged. "Look man, I know bartender X. She's one of my best friends! I just need to go in and close my tab," he whined.
"Okay, well first of all, bartender X isn't working the door right now, is she? Secondly, you don't know me, and I'm the one who's checking IDs. And lastly, you don't know your address, so I can't let you in tonight."
"That's fucking ridiculous!" he exploded, throwing his hands up in the air. "I was at
This is what happens. Some random kid or girl comes to a late night party with us, or some Sunday night party with the employees of a bar on their off night, and all of the sudden they think they're in. The tables turn and it's on me to know them, for some reason. I'm then under some obligation to know everyone I've been within ten feet of at some drunken party I hardly remember.
They suddenly think that the rules don't apply to them anymore, simply because they had a beer with a few of the staff on some random night 2 months ago, and when questioned, they can mouth off to any employee they don't know who questions their actions. This simply isn't the case, and if often ends with some harsh consequences. And 9 times out of 10, the employee they do know won't do a damn thing to stop the hammer when it drops.
"I know," I replied sighing, my smile fading away. "It's a real tragedy, isn't it? But unfortunately, I don't know you from the thousands of other kids I see every night, so I can't let you in. I'm sorry." I tried to be nice as I said this. I think it came out okay.
And so round and round we went. Him asking and me refusing. Him asking again and me refusing, yet again. At one point, he informed me he was going in. I gently stopped him and we continued our back and forth game game. It got old quickly, but I kept my patience with him. My numerous requests that he remove himself from the doorway onto the sidewalk were ignored time and time again. And that's when I stopped being nice. Because it just doesn't fucking work sometimes.
So we removed him directly onto the sidewalk. And that was that. To my suprise, bartender X let out an audible laugh after being told the story of her "friend" at nights end.
"He probably deserved it," she said, chuckling to herself.
Yes...yes, he did. And so did the other 25 people with whom I had identical conversations with that night. He, unfortunately, was the straw who broke the camels back.
So don't test your doorman at 1:55am next time. He's tired, annoyed, and now completely sober and probably looking for a reason to use your face as a punching bag after dealing with the never-ending stream of shit he sees night after night.
Just so you all know.