Concertgoers live in a world they believe to be loud and free. But there is, unheard by most, an outer world, a barrier between in and out, just as loud but not as free as they thought — the world outside a venue, where the door guy simply wants you to pay the cover charge. Welcome to a few nights in the life of Tin Roof’s door dude, Rex Stickel.
Saturday
9:06 p.m.
Me: “Cover is $7.”
Guy: “I don’t have any cash. What am I supposed to do?”
Me: “We have an ATM inside, and I’ve got change for you when you’re ready.”
Guy: “So what, I go on there and what, buy cash?”
Me: “Well, it’s an ATM, you don’t really buy it.”
9:10 p.m.
Guy comes out with a $20.
Me: “Right on, man, I got your change.”
Guy: “This is for two. It’s for me and a female.”
Me: “It’s all right even if it wasn’t.”
9:23 p.m.
Older couple walks up.
Me: “Hey guys, the cover tonight is $7.”
Man: “Woah, woah, woah, a piece? Hang on there. Take a look at my lady here. I’d say two for one. She’s prettier than me.”
Me: “She’s not that pretty. It’s $7 a piece.”
10:58 p.m.
Me: “The cover is $7.”
Guy: “Still? Still?”
Me: “You know those rich touring bands, always traveling around trying to take everyone’s money, $7 at a time. It’s gross is what it is.”
Girl: “Here’s $15. Keep the change.”
Friday
7:15 p.m.
Guy pays the cover.
Me: “Thanks dude! The front door is right there!”
Guy, points to stage door. “What’s this way?”
Me: “Well, that’ll put you right on stage, so unless you’re looking to make your debut …”
Guy: “I’ll stick to the front door.”
8:18 p.m.
Me: “Hey man, cover is $7.”
Guy: “I haven’t been here in a while, I just wanted to see if the place is still dark and dirty.”
Me: “Well hell man, you’re in the right place. We’re even darker and dirtier than you remember!”
9:13 p.m.
Reassuring a grown woman that yes, all the donation money tonight does in fact, go to “the kitties.”
10:27 p.m.
DAMMIT: the shit parker that screwed up our parking lot turned out to be a super sweet lady and I couldn’t use any of the insults I spent all night coming up with.
Sunday
11:11 p.m.
Me: “Cool, now I just need to see your ID.”
Lady: “Really? You need to see my ID?”
Me: “So, you want me to agree with you about how old you look?”
Lady: “Here.”
Thursday
9:13 p.m.
Guy: “Hey I’m not actually going to the show, but I need to use the ATM.”
Me: “That’s fine man, go ahead.”
Guy: “… also I might pee while I’m in there too.”
Me: “Woah, woah, woah. Bring that pee back outside when you’re done.”
Guy: “That’s fine.”
10:57 p.m.
It’s strange, it’s like the more a guy smells like Axe Body Spray, the less he wants to pay the cover.
Friday
8:37 p.m.
Guy: “We’re just here for one and done, man.”
Me: “That’s cool, if you decide to stay I’ll be out here to take the cover.”
Guy: “Hey, do you know that guy bartender? He’s got real long dreadlocks, down to his ankles …”
Me: “Sure, you must mean Greg! He works at The Mill! You know him?”
Guy: “No, he’s cool though. Is he in here?”
Me: “No, he works at The Mill.”
9:32 p.m.
Me: “Cover is $7.”
Lady hands me $20. “I’ll do both of us.”
Me: “Hey, whatever you guys are into.”
Guy: “Hell, I’m into not paying any money.”
9:47 p.m.
Thinking of getting a stamp for the door and only using it when people ask for one. Make it say, “I’M A PEDO” or maybe “it’s Dickbutt” or something.
10:40 p.m.
Lady goes inside to use ATM. Pokes her head outside.
Lady: “Hey! Come here! Show me where my money is!”
Me: “Uh…”
Lady: “THIS MACHINE STOLE MY MONEY!”
I walk inside, look at her receipt.
Me: “It says here ‘UNAPPROVED’.”
Lady: “Oh. Well I’ll try a different card.”
Me: “Come bug me when you have the money.”
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