I should probably be asleep but I'm having a difficult time winding down. It doesn't really help that my next door neighbor has about five people smoking cigarettes out of her window with her right now. Nobody sleeps around here.
There was a big event going on here tonight. Art shows, live music, Bollywood dancing, etc. The mayor of Portland was even there. And the restaurant/bar downstairs finally opened. I worked a five hour shift as The Bouncer.
Yes, The Bouncer. The term "Door Security" works as well. Basically, it was my job to stand by the back doors and make sure nobody brought alcohol in or out of the room.
You are allowed to laugh. When I first found out I was going to be The Bouncer, I could barely keep a straight face. Hello, I'm a skinny white girl! Even when I wear all black and pile on too much eyeliner, you can bet there's not much that's intimidating about me.
I did wear all black and too much eyeliner though. I had to at least try to be intimidating.
At first, I felt fairly bad ass. I had a wall in the corner that I expertly leaned against. When someone walked too close to the door with a beer, I would casually tell them not to take it outside. Easy.
But then the crowd came. Everyone had alcohol that was either going out or coming in. As the one and only alcohol monitor, it was impossible to keep track of all of it.
And then I got stuck talking to the old drunk guy I got trapped in a room with in February. The Poet could not save me because he was busy having a spontaneous reunion with someone really awkward. Eventually, the drunk guy went away and was promptly replaced by Magic Butter Guy. He gave me an uncomfortably long hug and went on to talk about things that didn't really make sense.
When he left, I found myself conversing with Man With No Personality Who Purposefully Parts His Hair On The Side. It was about then that I noticed a certain boy walk in. This is the boy who loves French cinema and knows all the words to "Total Eclipse Of The Heart." I was having a hard time determining his sexual orientation and then just gave up on him. I hadn't seen him for about a month and apparently he acquired an attractive collection of facial hair...and a girlfriend. He walked in with a chick on his arm and the two of them came over to talk to me.
It was terrible. He was legitimately interested in knowing how I was. He even asked about Goat Man. I went through the routine where I refer to Goat Man as a real person and he genuinely laughed. His girlfriend was unamused. She was hungry. He wanted to dance. He was sad that I was stuck in a corner and could not join in on the dancing. He suggested that the three of us go do something after my shift. She waved the idea away and pulled him upstairs to get food. I watched them walk away hand in hand and tried not to have a totally disgruntled expression on my face.
The old drunk guy returned.
The novelty of being The Bouncer had officially worn off.
The night ended with my new boss handing me an old rag and telling me to clean tables. Touching a wet rag was the last thing I wanted to do in my bad ass bouncer attire, but it wasn't worth fussing over. Next thing I knew, I was cleaning and bussing tables with my new coworker, Tweaked Out Elvis Costello. He was as annoying (and drugged up) as ever:
"It's a pleasure to work with you, Lauren!"
"Hey Lauren, I am putting this rag on this table and I am cleaning this table!"
"Lauren, are you going to work here a lot? I work here all the time!"
"Look at my neck Lauren, I have a rash from wearing an apron!"
"See you tomorrow, Lauren!"
I was so grumpy at the end of my shift.
But I'm getting money and future sitcom material out of all of this, so it's okay. That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.
Now excuse me while I go pound my head against a wall...