Unfortunately, there is another sinister aspect to this bar and it is the one thing that is completely inescapable... the Doorman. He has been there as long as I've been going to this bar (12 years) and I'm almost positive he was actually The Doorman before the fucking bar was even in existence. Also? HE DOESN'T FUCKING AGE, people. He looks exactly the same as he did 12 years ago. I'll leave you to your own conclusions.
The Doorman sits on a stool at the top of the stairs and if you want to see a band play, you have to pay tribute to The Doorman, usually 8 bucks. Sounds easy, right? It's not.
Because The Doorman is, in general, a total dick**.
The Doorman is more disgruntled about taking twenty-dollar bills than Wilford Brimley is about having "diabeetus"...
For years we've all suffered his acerbic commentary (he's questioned my mental capacity more than once and asked if there was something incestous going on between me and my brother), the glowering disapproval when you don't hand him exact change (all bills MUST be facing the same way) or present your wrist in the correct way (the right one, on the inside) to receive the Holy Communion of the Bar -- usually a big rubber stamp that I swear they soak in indelible ink because it takes days to wear off, forcing you to walk around looking like an unshowered dirtbag.
People are scared shitless of The Doorman, but I usually find his antics to be somewhat amusing, even if he loves to call me a freeloader when I'm on the guest list. I stopped that about a year ago when he accused me of not supporting the band and I told him I do the bassist's laundry and let him stick his penis in me and that's all the support the fucking band is going to get. His scowl merely deepened and he pressed a little harder than necessary when he gave me stamp and allowed me passage into the bowels of the bar.
Jenny Jerkface - 1, The Doorman - 0.
It's rumored he doesn't ever smile and eats small children and kittens as snacks. Or maybe I just made that up.
Because I'm an old hand at The Doorman Routine, I didn't think anything of it as I approached him last Saturday. In fact, I was feeling a little gleeful because I didn't have exact change and I knew this was going to piss him off so, with drink in hand and a huge grin on my face, I walked up and handed him my twenty.
He looked at it like it was covered with herpes. Then he looked at me and said, "when are you due?"
**blink blink blinkety-fucking-blink**
Seconds, maybe even minutes passed as I stared at him. Then I glanced at my cocktail. Then my gaze dropped down to my stomach. Then I looked back at him. I had what I like to call a "High Fidelity***" moment and debated tackling him, throwing my drink in his face or beating him mercilessly with his own goddamned rickety stool. Possibly all of the above. At the same time.
As I continued to stare at him, his permanent scowl shifted and he looked a little... confused.
That all changed when I replied loudly, "I'm not pregnant. I'm just fucking fat."
Even in the dim lighting I could see his face grow red. His mouth opened and shut a few times before he stuttered out a slightly chagrined, "sorry." I thanked him for reminding me that I was a chubster, wiped the sarcasm that was dripping out of my mouth and let him stamp my wrist, my indignant rage lessening slightly as floundered to remove his foot from his mouth, looking a little frightened. In all the time I'd been going to the bar I have heard The Doorman say terrible things to people but I had never, EVER heard The Doorman say anything nice or apologize. To ANYONE.
As I stomped down the stairs, I grinned because there is nothing better than embarrassing the fuck out of someone who is rude.
Jenny Jerkface - 1, The Doorman - well... 2, I guess.
Of course I couldn't let this go. Every time I walked by him I clutched my back, pushed my stomach out and tried to do the best "pregnant" walk I could as I shuffled up to the bar for another cocktail. He refused to look at me.
There are certain things you NEVER say to a woman. Among those are "I'm sorry about the accident that deformed your face... no accident, you say?" or "are you a product of inbreeding?" but the biggest is asking a woman if she is pregnant. Yes, pregnant ladies are beautiful in their mommy glow and everything but it's just not worth getting it wrong in case she isn't preggers. As Suzspetals put it so eloquently via Twitter, "you never ask a woman if she's pregnant unless you see the baby's head crowning."
Has something like this ever happened to you?
Also, I'm burning the dress I wore that night. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, empire waist dress.
** - Rumor also has it that The Doorman is actually a really nice guy outside of the bar. I don't buy it.
*** - For those of you who have never seen the movie High Fidelity (with John Cusack and Jack Black) there is a scene in which his ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend confronts him at the music shop and this is exactly what I'm talking about.