so at the bar in which I work, there’s an unofficial rule that all of our door staff must have names that start with D or rhyme with ‘doorman’, which has led to me befriending a trio of six foot four men with beards called Doorman Logan, Doorman Drew, and Doorman Dan.
now, let me tell you now that Doorman Dan is the absolute love of my life. I don’t care that he’s a decade older than me and has a fiance. you know when someone is so extraordinary or impossible to define that they’re simply referred to as ‘a character’? that’s Doorman Dan. now, before I get into his personality, let’s describe his appearance. imagine the most stereotypical Scandinavian person ever: tall, white-blond, strong-jawed. now, add a heavy South Walian accent and an orange jumper.
that’s Doorman Dan.
since meeting him last year, I’ve discovered:
he once had a dream that he had a tattoo that said ‘shit happens’ on his left arsecheek, so when he woke up he decided he had to fulfil the prophecy and got it tattooed on his arse by a bloke called Junkie Jeff at 9AM
he forgot to call his girlfriend for three months while he was in the army, and was completely unaware they had broken up until he wished her a happy Christmas and she responded with ‘what the fuck Dan’
accidentally married his army buddy in Vegas for thirty-six hours
he saw someone beating up a guy for being gay, and instead of jumping in and fighting back he decided to get absolutely bollock-naked and stand in front of the homophobe until he got freaked out and ran off
he has a millionare buddy who rings him up once a month for ‘mystery adventures’, one of which has resulted in Doorman Dan no longer being allowed inside any John Lewis shops
he is convinced the love of his life is not his fiancee, but a man named Ned. upon being asked who Ned is, he shrugged and responded with: “I’ll know when I meet him.”
he runs an Instagram account dedicated to his pet rabbits and refuses to let people into the bar unless they follow him
his fiancee booked a wedding venue before he even proposed. “I don’t even know if I’m invited, truth be told.”
when he caught a couple having sex in our loos, he didn’t want to intrude so he just gently knocked on the door and asked if they’d like a snack
he has created his own non-alcoholic cocktail called Doorman’s Sunrise because he feels left out being the only person on the dance floor without a drink when he’s patrolling the bar
I could honestly write a ten-season sitcom about him
What the fuck is a South Walian accent?
If you mean Welsh I swear to god
Oh whoa, this post has been resuscitated after *checks sundial strapped to wrist* eight years! And yes, I do mean south Welsh! Specifically Cardiffian in Doorman Dan’s case.
Do you have any Doorman Dan updates?
Alas, no; I’ve long since stopped working at the bar and we pretty much fell out of touch during lockdown. Such is life! I like to think he finally found Ned, though.
