In the queue for a bar in a town I barely know, and this one looks like a mean bastard. Pinched face, pockmarked scalp, checking everyone’s IDs. He’s the type to say something about the cane, look suspiciously at it, make some quip (which I’ll laugh at, glad nothing worse has happened). I get to the front, hold out my passport. He looks at it, then at the cane, then at me. Lines on his face, the top of his head gleaming. He leans in close, confidential. ‘Let me know if you need any help in there mate,’ he says and holds open the door.
/ Two Bouncers
/ Two Bouncers
/ Two Bouncers
In the queue for a bar in a town I barely know, and this one looks like a mean bastard. Pinched face, pockmarked scalp, checking everyone’s IDs. He’s the type to say something about the cane, look suspiciously at it, make some quip (which I’ll laugh at, glad nothing worse has happened). I get to the front, hold out my passport. He looks at it, then at the cane, then at me. Lines on his face, the top of his head gleaming. He leans in close, confidential. ‘Let me know if you need any help in there mate,’ he says and holds open the door.