Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Fuck YO! couch...

I hate door people. They tend to have an abnormally inflated sense of self and take their job too fuckin' seriously. I don't know, maybe these are the outcasts we teased in high school come full circle that are now reveling in the phrase "the meek shall inherit the earth." Or rather "the meek shall inherit the guest list." At any rate, I experienced one of those dreaded revenge of the nerds moments last week at Puma's SoHo store. A buddy of mine was nice enough to hook me and my homegirl up with entry to Puma's soiree celebrating the release of their YO! MTV Raps themed line of kicks and gear.

Needless to say everybody worth their weight in retro gold showed up. There were the 21-and-under crowd dressed in their best late 80's gear, circa "Do The Right Thing," trying their best to emulate their Uncle Tyrone. There were plenty of graffed-out dual cassette deck boom boxes (D, Mickey-fickey, D!), flat tops, and dookie gold rope chains. And though the dope party was inside (complete with DJ Evil Dee on the mix, Black Moon on the mic, cocktails and barbers giving free line ups and fades), I was stuck outside with all the odd balls and side show contestants in the three ring circus on the sidewalk outside.

Interestingly enough, those scenarios are usually more entertaining than the event you're trying to get into. There's always about 10 people at any given moment on their cell phones with distress in their voice saying, "Yo, I'm outside...can you come get me!" Or the people who try to inconspicuously tag onto the end of an entourage with hopes the door people will just assume they're with that party and let them pass. But the funniest folks are those who beef with door people. For all those unaware, this is a no-no. NEVER pick a battle of wits or try to pull rank with a door person unless you really have pull. Trust me, these folks at the door have memories like elephants and will carry a grudge across a mountain top if necessary.

Anyway, me and my homegirl were thwarted by this little bite-sized door guy with policeman's shades and fitted black track jacket. For some reason, he did not like my homegirl. Although she was polite in trying to get his attention several times, he chose to ignore her. Finally, I was able to get my buddy's attention by waving my hands as he walked up to the door from the inside. He motioned for me to get the door guy's attention for him. After my buddy put up a peace sign to the door guy, indicating "two people," he gave me a signal that all should be good from there. But the rat fink of a door guy simply turned to me and said, "You got 7 people in front of you." So after an hour of waiting and watching 15 people go in ahead of us who just walked up, we bounced. Fuck yo' couch.

That was the longest I've waited in line for ANY event. And please believe me, unless Michael Jackson announces he's going on tour with Prince, it will be the LAST time I wait that long. Kudos to all those who were able to get in and partake of the festivities.

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