Door Guy Chronicles - 12/8/2012

If you work the door at a neighborhood bar, as opposed to a club or some trendy flavor-of-the-month bar with a gimmick, it's important to embrace your neighbors, learn the names of your regulars and build rapport with the other businesses on your block.  It is not at all important to have any sort of relationship with a wobbly-walking drunk dude from Chico in a dirty grey hoodie with a stretched out front pocket, trying to sell weed in front of the bar.  Seriously who asks the bouncer if he has a scale on him?

Thoughts:

• Lots of Euro's on the loose.  San Francisco is an international city so it's not much of a shocker to see passports and other oddly colored pieces of identification.  I saw some Italians, Germans, Irish and a Kenyan - all of the men in the respective groups, all very aware that their accents would be an asset when speaking to female patrons.  Kind of less charming when foreigners know their accents are cool sounding.
  
• A total of seven fire trucks or ambulances passed by.  Not sure if that's a lot, but I suppose it literally means at least that many people had a terrible night.
  
• Google had their holiday party up the street and a bunch of their employees came in.  All in all, pretty nice folks, it was just funny hearing guests of the Google employees mutter "I was just a plus one" as they walked in.  Haven't decided if it was a shame thing or simply trying to connect with "the little people."  Interesting either way.
  
• I'm just about the furthest you can possibly get from being a germaphobe, but seriously, I'm actually considering getting one of those hand sanitizer belt-loop things and just having that be part of who I am from now on.  So many handshakes and high fives and handling of empty pint glasses with mouth juice all over them; I feel like I need a bucket of Purell next to me like boxers have in their corner in between rounds.  Except, you know, not spit and blood.