Thing 220 Be a Bouncer

First of all, I know I'm shockingly late getting this blog done, but I've been crazy busy. It's a full time job having a full time job you know. Also, I'm incredibly lazy and there are times when the sight of this laptop makes me nauseous. I spend way too much time online.

So anyway...

I don't know what height I am. When people ask I touch the top of my head and tell them that's how tall I am. Which is cryptic and unhelpful, but sometimes I just like being contrary. It should suffice to say that I'm not that tall. I'm a tad below average height I guess. It doesn't help that I slouch. Years of my parents giving out couldn't prevent this from becoming a reality. I slouch a little every now and then.

I'm not skinny either. I wouldn't say I'm morbidly obese or anything, just a little bulky here and there. I've big shoulders and a large chest, which would be admirable qualities if not for the beer belly...

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't have the physical attributes you'd normally associate with bouncers. Namely; tallness and muscleness (yes, I am aware that I just made up an adjective, we can discuss that some other time). There is no way anyone would take me seriously as a bouncer...

Wrong.

Frighteningly enough, just wearing the all black get-up, with the heavy black coat and the leather gloves was enough. Put on the serious face and stand there with conviction. I even raised one eyebrow a couple of times, like a tough-guy skeptical look. I totally pulled it off. Respect my authority... People actually pulled out their IDs when they saw me in the doorway. Power.... it's so deliciously addictive...
I realise this photo will do little for their street cred, but those are the two real bouncers at AuBars in Limerick. They babysat me while I pretended. They're both thoroughly nice chaps. We basically stood there being bouncers for the guts of five hours of a Friday evening and shot the breeze.

Top Dog walked passed with some of the lads, en route to a session of drink. He made a most interesting observation: Both of the other bouncers at the door at the time are large men. Big and burly. Clearly I'm not. So for the average punter on the street, they're wondering what kind of psycho nut case boxer/ninja I must be in order to be a bouncer and not need to be big and burly. After hearing this, I practiced my psycho look. Worked well.

It's funny how deferential to bouncers people are. Makes sense when you think about it. On a night out, the only thing between you and your fun is the bouncer. Play nice and the fun starts sooner. There were six guys in their early-thirties walking up the street bantering and joking loudly. Big guys. Loads of slagging and messing. As they walked passed us, the tone changes, and they all nod and quietly say good evening as they file in. Be nice to the bouncer. Cover up the fun in case they think we're drunk...

People are also quite chatty with the bouncer once they're inside. At several stages they'd wander over, mid-cigarette, and strike up a chat. Typically a one-sided chat. I can't really hack drinkers when I'm not drinking. Odd, I know.

It was an eye opening experience. At one stage the real bouncers had to refuse a regular who was too drunk. I'm sure the regular felt hard done by, and tried to argue his case. I'm sure this seemed like a reasonable decision to him at the time. It's only the next day that you realise that these are bad decisions. With massive patience the lads talked to him, but refuse to bend on the rules; too drunk is too drunk. He got more annoying. He kept arguing. The lads stayed cool. I felt like spinning him 'round in circles until he threw up. There are girls trying to chat the bouncers up quite a bit while they're trying to do their jobs. There's rows, and drunks. There's spilled drinks and fake IDs. There're nice punters and asshole punters. All of this while standing in the freezing cold.

Who'd be a bouncer? Not me anyway. I'm leaving it to the big people.