I cannot get into any desirable nightclub in the city. I can’t just go to a new city, this is Portland, it’s got an epic night-scene. People like me need to dance the pain away, and we can only do this in Portland. That was until every club bounced me out.
“How did this happen to me??”
Well, I’ll take you back to New Year’s Eve 2008. Everybody was making a big deal out of this year because the 2008-shaped glasses looked cooler than last year’s.
I wasn’t the only one in it for a good time. A few people on the plane, though they were wearing stained sweaters, looked like they might be ready to party too. I asked one guy where he was going out.
“Ha, I’m just going home. Had a meeting in Seattle today” he said. His University of Oregon sweater looked like it had been through a few rowdy nights.
“Where are you going out tonight?” I asked the woman next to me. Her hair was blonde, which is a sign that she parties.
“I’m going to take my dog on a walk, and then watch the Dick Van Dyke show or something.”
I just had the feeling it was about to go down.
“Tonight. Tonight. Tonight.”
When I stepped off the plane, I was greeted by an old friend, Terrence Mcgillicutty. DJ T-Rex, as we called him in the nightclubs. He had a show tonight, but was kind enough to pick me up.
When we pulled into downtown, that potent smell of Portland night clubs was wafting down every alley. The electricity was unmistakeable.
“My show is not until 2am; lets hit up some other desirable night clubs first!” said T-Rex.
“Sounds dandy!” I said. We walked to a club called Cigaro, and went upstairs to the manager’s office.
“We’re here to party.” I told the manager, who smelled like whiskey and women’s perfume.
“That’s wonderful! Have a good time.” said the manager, and he opened up the velvet ropes to the VIP section.
“Thanks for the hookup, man.” I said.
“No problem, gents.” The manager said, and closed the velvet ropes.
“Lets go get drinks at the bar!” I shouted over the Sade/J-Lo remix that was being spun by the one-and-only DJ PorkBao. But as I made my way out, I tripped over the closed velvet rope that was telling everyone we are VIPs. I fell straight on my face. When I got up, T-Rex was looking at me in horror.
“You better go home bro.” T-Rex said.
“No, I’m fine. My dentures fall out all the time… But where’d they go?” I said to T-Rex. My teeth must’ve scurried across the dance floor. I looked around for a while, but couldn’t find them. “Well, I guess I’ll have to order a drink without them.”
“I’m going to head out to the smoking area outside. I’ll wait for you there.” he said.
I ordered a drink without my teeth, and the bartender gave me a cocktail glass with a straw. I felt so hot and uncomfortable with everyone looking at me. So I went to the bathroom, where I saw a guy in a suit using a urinal.
“Do you ever get stage fright at the urinals?” the man blurted out when I walked in. I said nothing. “Like, you get afraid to speak to the guy at the urinal next to you, and you try to say something, but almost nothing comes out?”
“You seem to be talking just fine.” I told him.
“Yea, but sometimes all I can say is a simple, ‘Whatsup?'” he said.
After this awkwardness, I met T-Rex outside and puffed a Marlboro Black 100 with him. It felt weird on my gums. T-Rex said he needed a drink badly, he was nervous for his show tonight.
“No Teeth, No Entry.” said a big man to my side.
“I was just in.” I said.
“Yea, but you had teeth when I let you in.”
“I lost my teeth in there.” I said.
He pointed to a sign on the door: “No Teeth, No Entry."
“I’m going to go to another club then.” I said.
“That’s fine.” the doorman said.
T-Rex and I went to another club called Stereo. Same sign was there. Dammit. We went to a club called The Loft. Same damn sign. We tried Club Cat, The House of Blues, Jamaica Street, … they all had the same sign.
“I’m going to fight bouncers tonight," I said. “What’s the worst they can do, knock my teeth out?”
“Sorry dude, I need to go to my show now.” T-Rex walked away.
I was super pissed. I fought a lot of bouncers that night. After fighting them, I tried everything else: I dressed up in a suit and tie, I dressed up as a woman, I even dressed up like a gangsta. And it still never worked.
Thanks to Portland’s incredible nightclub scene, the bouncers were all union workers. In their headquarters, they hung a picture of my face. It read, “This man fought us all on New Year’s Eve 2008, and he didn’t have any teeth. Never let him in. Bounce him out, hard.”
👨👨👨👨👨👨👨👨👨🤖 (10% AI writing.)
Thanks for reading!
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