As of 3:00AM, 12/10/2009 I officially hung up my Doorman Clicker, and HOLY FUCKING HELL it wasn't a moment too soon. Friday and Saturday night's should have been a victory lap of sorts, as these were the final 2 nights of a venerable Chicago institution of the DJ/electronic music/hip-hop scene.
Friday was mostly fun, as all the bar's "family and friends" were in attendance (especially my direct manager, who was rocking screwdrivers and lines of coke like they were going out of style [oh, wait, they have?]) and the DJ's were laying down some seriously sick SHIIIIIIT.
That was fun.
Except for the fucking drunk bitch who dropped her wallet, whom I sought out to return to her only to have her accuse me of stealing it from her (huh?), but I digress...
Saturday night, last night...THE OFFICIAL LAST LAST NIGHT. I was feeling really good and beside my feelings of nostalgia for this place I came to actually really fucking enjoy working at.
Unfortunately that warm fuzzy feeling evaporated faster than a Jack n' Coke in my hand. Until 11PM the place was dead. Between 11 & Midnight I clicked 89 people. The bar only has a capacity of 99. So around 12:15AM I had to start a line outside the door.
Which isn't a big deal, but my manager was not in attendance, so I had to watch the floor for bullshit (drunk assholes/fights, etc) and corral a crowd that quickly mushroomed to over 50+ people.
Did I mention it was fucking freezing last night? I'm amazed I spent 2 hours outside in the cold whilst being berated by fucking assholes and didn't get pneumonia or in a fist fight. The latter nearly occurred more than once when people tried to sneak in literally behind my back.
I swear to Christ, if I ever lay my eyes on the promoter of this event I will stomp on his nuts with the heels of my boots. [Message to him - I care NOT about your "publicist", "manager", "ad-man" or their hanger-on's].
Memo to drunk pretty bitches that think they can coast on your looks: I LIKE COCK. Flip your hair all you want, it ain't gonna change a goddamn thing. UGH X 10.
Really, it's not surprising, but so annoying that some people feel like they are so much better/more entitled than others. There is special circle of hell reserved for these walking pieces of shit, and I'm not only referring to females; dudes with "special" sneakers think they rule the Earth They Walk Upon.
For good measure, I had to drag one drunk fucker out (I'm told he later he fell on his head and nearly cracked his skull open). I'm still amazed that asshole was only the 3rd drunk I had to pull in the last 11 months. And that I never got my ass kicked by dudes far larger than I. Perhaps it's a testament to my laid back back ways; I tend to "kill" assholes with kindness, whether they deserve it or not.
After I ushered everyone out, and locked the door for the last time [sniff] the remaining souls included the 2 Bartenders, a Bar Back and Myself, and we rooted around for an appropriate beverage. We settled on a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, and traded our favorite stories about working the shit out of that bar.
Despite all the shit I've put up with with this job, I don't regret it at ALL, as I've learned so very many "life lessons". Blog fodder aside, I've made many new friends (and perhaps some new enemies), but as a reluctant optimist, it's opened a new door (as one literally has closed) and I regret nothing.
Cheers to my next door, and to yours!