Befriending People in Low Places, Part 2 (Bouncers)

So you want to pick up chicks at “Ho’s and Hotties R Us”… your local watering hole, bar, pub, club, or whatever social environ that attracts the teeming bitches like maggots on rotting, festering, day old meat. You want to put that mortgage payment you spent on a seminar, workshop or bootcamp to good use and seduce a beautiful woman into sucking your virginal cock. What’s standing in your way but a meathead two shirt sizes too small, but with biceps twice as big as your head?


Bouncers are the thin steroid line that separates the masses of unwashed, overdeveloped, overdrugged Cornfeds, Guidos, and Pick Up Artists (you lot in other words) from the shining, sweating arches of the club entrance… and deep within, amidst the rhythmic thrumming of the bass are the bouncing, heaving bosoms of ADD prone, silicone enhanced, validation driven Guidettes, Sluts and Librarians.

They come in a variety of sizes, shapes and colors (the bouncers, not the girls), but there are usually two different temperaments: “This is just a job” and “ME HULK! ME SMASH!”

I do not bother befriending the latter group as they form the stereotypical, knuckle dragging, intellect deprived, testicle shrunken Mafioso clique who get off on nothing more than flexing their muscles and the power trip of kicking customers out. Thankfully, however, most fine drinking establishments do not gainfully employ said mouth breathers, though you may find a few at the less reputable institutions.

Instead, your friend the bouncer is the one that mans the line and does his job with a minimum of fuss. This is your future best friend.

When first met, make small talk with him, but don’t take up his time. Be polite, show him your ID card, and maybe make a joke or two. Granted, these guys could crush your head between their two mighty pectorals, but they’re still people and enjoy a good sense of humor, story, and- as men- the company of women.

Therefore, like promoters, don’t be afraid to use the social proof of women who are accompanying you (what, you don’t have women you say? Then why the fuck are you even a so called pick up artist, mack daddy and pimp?!) and introduce them to the bouncer. Sure they’ll probably flirt with the girl, but if there’s one thing I’ve noticed, girls are always making friends with people in position of power at any club: the promoter, the bartender, the bouncer… hell, they’ll even give the barback a blowjob if it meant a lifetime of no cover.

So if you haven’t introduced one of your girls (whether she was a friend or someone you just met that night and banged on the stairwell or in the unisex bathroom or behind the bar), odds are she’d be introduced to him to him at some point no matter what. You might as well take advantage of her fascination with men in power and make it work for you.

Commiserate with him and say things like, “Man, they don’t pay you enough to deal with this shit.” Show him that even though you’re a pimp that you can empathize with the commoners.

Even a small gesture like “Hey man, want a bottle of water while you stand out here?” can have a meaningful impact. Maybe he wants one. Maybe he doesn’t. But even an offer like that separates you from the unwashed Neanderthals. A $5 bottle of water can go a lot further than a $20 bribe later on in the night.

Showing up regularly, knowing his name (and fellow bouncer’s names and owner’s name), shaking his hand, shooting the shit and maybe regaling a tale or two of a piece of tail that you bagged can get you a knowing chuckle and a slap on the back.

When the wheels of the club are grinding slowly and you need a little grease to make them run smoothly, a quickly slipped $20 (or whatever is the going price, who knows with inflation nowadays) can make it happen. Fold the bill in half and then in half again with the numerical designation of said bill clearly showing (Make it easy on the bouncer; you don’t want him to take out his reading glasses to see what kind of gratuity he’s receiving while throngs of thongs wait impatiently behind you).

Place the bill between your ring and middle finger so that when you clap him on the back (the OTHER hand, you idiot, the one WITHOUT the Benjamin), smile and say, “I know we can work something out” he can clearly see what’s up, grasp your hand in a manly display of friendship, and whereupon he can proceed to put right what once went wrong (Scott Bakula, you are a god amongst men).

If time is limited, it’s your first time at the club, and you need to get in (or some forgetful friend has left his 21 and up ID at him- tsk tsk tsk, but such things happen), I will usually walk up and light a cigarette. Very nonchalantly. “Who me, officer? I’m not doing anything wrong. No criminal activities here, no sir, I’m a perfectly respectable, upstanding citizen, yes sir.”

As you puff- sending radiation down your lungs and undoubtedly dooming you to a cancerous lymphoma ridden life- innocently look into the club and ask with great naiveté, “How are the bitches in there?”

To which every male bouncer will either reply, “The ho’s are packed in there tighter than a nun’s asshole!” or- even better for the virginal keyboard jockey- “It’s pretty lame.”

Shoot the shit, make innocent small talk, and then looking the bouncer in the eye, with that knowing look- that world weary visage like you’re carrying a great burden, but still being a good friend to your absent minded comrade (imagine Frodo and Sam from Lord of the Rings… no, not that knowing gay look between Elijah Wood and Sean Astin… the OTHER look) - and say, “Hey, my buddy was such an idiot, he forgot his ID. I’m sure we can work something out…”

Repeat as necessary and of course always collect the necessary recompense from your erstwhile friend who put you in such an uncomfortable predicament.

This can work if you need to get into the club while the line is spread out around the corner like a python regurgitating a small albino pygmy replete with bulging, twitching and gasping (the people, not the python).

But, like forest fires, the best way to combat such necessities is prevention. Or in this case, befriending him before such emergencies happen. Get to know the chap before the shit hits the fan and you need to get some under aged- pardon me, ID deprived- personage in or when the line gets too long. Take 10 minutes out of your night every time you visit your favorite watering hole and chat him up. That beautiful relationship can go a long way (to the head of line even) when needed.

It’s like watering a plant. Pay attention to your plant Give him a little bit of water. Talk to him. Sing to him even. Show him some of the beautiful flowers surrounding you. And like a growing, healthy daffodil, he too shall bloom when you need him.

Now, when the shit really hits the fan… Mayhap some uncouth scoundrel wants to engage an unseemly bout of fisticuffs or maybe you dumped a pitcher of beer on the head of a ho (I’m sure she deserved it), but certainly at some point in your career you’ll be faced with getting kicked out of the club. Don’t worry, this indignity happens to us all (well, actually just you).

Again, the best thing would be to have known the bouncer first. If you’re regular and he knows you’re a fine gentleman regularly pulling the bitches, he’s more than likely to take your side.

If this is your first encounter with him- at the start of Fists of Fury 13-, you don’t have a lot of options. Show him you’re non-threatening. Put away any incriminating evidence like knives, broken bottles and empty beer pitchers as those items tend to point directly to your culpability. Smile, shake his hands, tell him your name, ask his name, and explain clearly what’s going on and that’s its all a misunderstanding, “I didn’t start any trouble and I didn’t want any.”

If you get escorted out, you get escorted out. There’s only so much you can do if you’re a neglectful plant owner and don’t regularly water your plants. Don’t get into a fight (unless you’re wearing your best asbestos pants) with the bouncer and don’t try going back in from a different entrance, bouncers have something called radios that tell them not to let some yahoo back in (hopefully it was a Cornfed that they’re radioing about and not someone as respectable as you).

I hope this has helped. Remember, if you water your plant, he’ll treat you right.

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