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.


11:10 p.m.

Me: “Yeah man, it’s $5.”

Guy: “What time they done?”

Me: “They have until midnight and it’s just after 11, so …”

Guy: “You gonna charge me full price for the last hour?”

Me: “Naw dude, that’ll be $1.50.”


9:11 p.m.

Tons of compliments, adoration, and requests to touch my hair, and I start to suspect you’re drunk. Immediate French braiding, attempts at man bunning, and straight up unbridled jealousy of my hair, and I start to suspect you’re on drugs.

10:04 p.m.

Me: “The cover is $7 a piece.”

Guy: “How about two for $13?”

Me: “Are you a dollar short? That’s fine man.”

Guy: “Thanks. Sorry for being a giant dick.”

Man: “Don’t worry man, you’re the littlest dick I’ve met all night.”


11:19 p.m.

Three older folks walk up, drinks in hand.

Guy: “Hey buddy, I was hoping these lovely ladies could slip in here with their wine glasses.”

Me: “No, absolutely not. You’re gonna have to leave all the drinks outside if you can’t finish them. In fact, you actually shouldn’t be walking around with them.”

Guy: “No problem! Ladies,” he motions them to set their wine glasses on the ground. “Thanks a lot buddy,” hands me a five dollar bill.

Me: “Uh … it’s $7 a piece.”


9:32 p.m.

Car pulls up behind band van, blocking their doors shut.

Me: “Hey man, you can’t block the van doors — you’ll have to move your car.”

Older guy: “Well, who drove the convertible?” He throws his thumb over to the convertible parked kinda wonky. “They’re taking up two spaces.”

“Sir,” I say, tired of arguing. “Nobody likes a tattletale.”


Dear Door Guy,

I noticed all those “NO PARKING” signs but I decided to park there anyway. I know you’re telling me to move my giant truck, but there are two other cars parked there, too! What should I do?

Sincerely, Illegally Parked.

Dear Illegally Parked,

You should move your vehicle immediately. Other cars being parked there don’t justify you also breaking the law. Now please, with a cherry on top, move the fucking car.

Dear Door Guy,

I’m only here to see my nephew perform with his band, so I’ll only be here for 45 minutes. Do I really have to pay the full $5?

Always, Fiscally Responsible Auntie

Dear Fiscally Responsible Auntie,

You absolutely do need to pay the entire $5. Your “nephew” is one of six members in the first of three shoegaze bands playing tonight. If everyone is lucky, they might be able to afford one taco a piece after the show.

Dear Door Guy,

We’re, like, more than willing to pay the cover or whatever, but, like, seriously, we have to show ID? Really? Whatever. Also we plan on ordering complicated shots split an odd number of ways and screaming our lungs out all night on the patio. Is that cool?

Sincerely, Bridal Party of 5

Dear Bridal Party of 5,

Oh please, please don’t scream all night. And also, don’t order those shots. Congratulations on getting married and paying the cover, though. By the way, your Uber is here.

Dear Door Guy,

So does one guy go up and do a song and pass it off to somebody else, and they go back and forth like that?

Yours truly, Not Sure How This Works

Dear Not Sure,


Dear Door Guy,

Now I know the show goes until 12, but I am going to leave at 10. Any chance I can get a discount?

With love, Let’s Make A Deal

Dear Let’s Make a Deal,

As tempting as your offer is (HA), I sadly must decline. Five out of five of the performers tonight are not from America, so just in the currency-exchange fees alone, your contribution barely covers the ink needed to stamp their visas.

Editor’s Note: If you’d like to see “Immediate French braiding, attempts at man bunning, and straight up unbridled jealousy of my hair, and I start to suspect you’re on drugs” on a T-shirt next to a photo of Rex, get in line.

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