It seems to happen a lot, especially to me. I go out on a weekend in Houston looking to have some fun and a good time. A friend of mine will send me a text or give me a call to let me know that there is a great party going on at a particular club and I should get right over there. Of course, I head over, making sure look my best when I get there, and there is a huge line of people waiting to get in. Only thing is, no one is getting let in except for the people who pull up in fancy cars or limos. It’s just another case of a nightclub party that I know I can’t get into. |
You can usually tell right away as soon as you get some place whether you are going to be able to get in the part or not. There are some normal, telltale signs you can watch for to gauge your chances. First, if the doorman or doormen look like they are the sizes of mountains, it means that they are taking close watch over who gets in. This puts the chances of an average guy like me pretty far down on the list right away.
If the club looks like they have something special going on, odds are if you are a guy, you aren’t getting in unless you drive up like you own the place. Show up in a limo with a couple of models on your arms and maybe you stand a good chance. Drive up in your Hyundai with your buddies and you will get looked at like you do not even exist.
We’ve all seen it happen time and time again. There’s a big line to get in to this exclusive party and then three or four ladies walk up in their short dresses, bat their eyelashes and the doorman lifts the velvet rope for them to get in. That’s another sign that it’s a party you won’t be going to. It’s obviously something set aside for the beautiful people and, I hate to be harsh, but you’re not one of them. You can take solace in the fact that I am not one either, which is why you’ll see me standing outside the velvet rope begging for a chance to get in.
You can try every trick you may know to get access and maybe you will get lucky and something will work. I’ve tried everything – bribing the doorman, trying to sneak in through a back entrance, posing as a delivery man – you name it. Each time I have been thrown out, kicked out and laughed at.
This brings me back to where we started. For someone like me, a weekend in Houston has to be a little more realistic and somewhere in the middle. I won’t be with the beautiful people, but I won’t be playing Dungeons and Dragons in a basement somewhere either. Save me a seat at the clubs I can get into and we can commiserate together.
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