After the Hellz/Vans party the other night, some M.I.S.S. ladies headed to the after-party at Greenhouse. I don’t normally “do” after-parties, because I’m old as fuck – or at least, I enjoy acting like an old lady and after-parties don’t usually factor into the equation for me too frequently. Especially since the best nights to go out in NYC are all nights that are NOT a Friday, a Saturday, or a Sunday. N-E-WAYZZ….
We arrive at Greenhouse and the line is not too long, so we figure we’ll get in soon. NEGATIVE. It’s embarrassing to admit, but we totally got Studio 54-ed at the door. Now, I don’t have low self-esteem; I’m kinda cute. but this door man made me feel particularly sonned, because there really wasn’t a line or crowd when we arrived, and he was still looking “past” me, rather than at me. I wasn’t even worthy enough for his damn line of sight!! I guess he was NOT liking my look/my face/my covered-up boobies/the fact I’m white/the fact that I’m not a DJ or something.. Granted, I am 5’2″ and had no heels on or heavy make-up on….but there was really no rhyme or reason to the selection of ladies he WAS choosing. It seemed like he let in the usual: the girls who looked like whores. But then, he also was letting in some really tall horse-faced bitches too. Oh, and a bunch of DUDES. I thought bouncers wanted bitches in the club??
I get the whole “power-trip” thing that doormen and bouncers are on, but really? It’s not that serious. I would never want to be in a position to just dismiss people because of their looks. Doorman, be nicer. You get to play gatekeeper for a little while, but guess what? No one thinks you’re cool. We think the club is cool, and that’s where we’re trying to go. If a party is fun or there are a lot of attractive people there, no one credits this factor to the door man. No one thinks “Wow, that doorman did really well with this hand-picked assortment of attractive people. I’m gonna come to this club on every night THIS particular bouncer is working; he knows how to make a party.” Um NO.
It would have been fine if the doorman made me wait a tic and let some hot people in before me. I wouldn’t have taken offense to that. It was that he was letting large crowd of people cut in front of us, crowds that may have had “somebody important” included, but still consisted of like 5 dudes and only like 2 girls – and most of the girls who were part of these large groups were already so drunk they were swaying.. Rather than letting the more “glamorous” or privledged people in front of us – he was letting regulah people from the back of the line come to the front and just cut us – and that was when it started getting insulting. I tried to ride on the coattails of some of the Vans crew, but right as I was about cross the threshold through the golden rope, some ho in the group proclaimed “she’s not with us” . Awww bitch! I hope you get chlamydia for calling me out like that.
This type of Tom Foolery continued for about 15 minutes; the feeling I felt was equivalent to the burning one feels in her cheeks when someone is teasing her in front of a large group of people. Like Kandy from the RHWOA right before she is “about to blow up on that ass.” But then I recounted the whole story to my cab driver and he told me I was “fine as hell” and “if he was the door man he woulda let me in in a second”, and I felt better as a result of his cheap attempt to hit on me. Plus, once in the cab, I wasn’t standing out in the cold anymore….but I’m sure the door man was! Nannny nanny boo-boo.
This bird sums it up nicely:
oh, and p.s. – There are some exceptions to the “door men are idiots” rule. The bouncer at Santos is a nice guy, and if you flirt with him a little, he plays along.
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