Warming Up

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Friday 27th February 2004

My friend Phil and me were out in Notting Hill looking for somewhere fun to drink. I remembered having been to quite a good bar, which was underneath the cinema so we headed there.
There was a bouncer on the door, and as we sloshed towards him (we may have already had a couple of drinks) he eyed us suspiciously.
"Are you here for the party?" he asked. I was disappointed; clearly there was a private function in the bar tonight.
"We might be," slurred my friend suspiciously. The bouncer stepped aside and let us in.
He must qualify as the worst bouncer of all time. Not only had he given away that there was a party on in the bar, he had also merely asked us if we were there for it and then accepted our somewhat unconvincing reply that we were. I have never worked in the bouncing world, but my first statement on being approached by two inebriated idiots would be, "Sorry fellas, there's a private function on tonight." Then had the idiots been guests they would have replied, "Yes, we know. We're invited." At which point I would have asked for their names and then checked them against the list that I had on the clipboard I was holding. Possibly asking for ID if I had any further suspicions.
I just hope that this fella never gets promoted to airport security.
The party turned out to be rather staid and rubbish. The people there looked like they probably all worked together and weren't that interested in socialising with each other as well. So we had a drink at the bar and disappeared into the Notting Hill night looking for adventure and equally inefficient doormen.
We found none.