Door Policy

It's Friday night. [[Go out.|Outfits]] [[Go to bed.]]

It's Friday night. [[Actually go to bed.]] [[Get FOMO on Instagram and decide to go out anyway (against your better judgment).|Outfits]]

Night night.

The dim light in the closet swings in the stale air-conditioned breeze. The shadow of tonight’s outfit casts a silhouette across the floor. [[It’s Issey Miyake.|Train]] [[It’s the only clean thing you have left.|Train]] [[Whatever happened to J. Crew?|Train]] [[It’s that outfit you got from an FIT student on Depop.|Train]] [[It’s Mom’s favorite crop top.|Train]] [[It’s the fit you copped at Buffalo Exchange last week.|Train]]

The train approaches. [[Get on.]] [[Don’t get on.]]

You made it. Stand clear of the closing doors. [[Yay.|Doors]]

What now? [[no sleep, bus, club, nother club, nother club, nother club, plane, next place, no sleep…]]

[[Just kidding. Get off TikTok and on the train.]]

[[Okay.|Get on.]]

The trash can on the street corner is already overflowing with grease-stained paper plates, empty boxes of Marlboro Reds, and crushed cans of Monster. There are four doors. [[Bar]] [[Club]] [[Gala]] [[Party]]

A chain-smoking, middle-aged man sits outside the door. A neon sign behind his left shoulder reads “Clandestina,” and the sound of loud conversation drowns out music coming from somewhere else on the street. He greets familiar faces as they walk past him. A majority of the people here clearly know each other. How is it that everyone here always seems to know each other... The line moves forward and the bouncer puts his hand out, gesturing for your ID. [[You curse yourself under your breath for not having it ready. You hate to look like a #nerd in front of the bouncer. You nervously fumble around in your bag until you find it and pull it out.|Cash only]] [["Oh...ID? Right..." you stammer. It hits you that in your rush to get ready you might have left it in your other bag. "Uhh umm I don't think I have it on me...could I uhh..show you a photo?"|Sorry]] [[You already have it out and promptly hand it to him. You are the epitome of calm, cool, and collected.|Cash only]]

A line of leather-clad bodies hugs the brick wall of Good ol' Days. Reverberations from the loud bass within gently rattles the glass windows. Two people in black are checking IDs and tickets at the front. They only let a few people in at a time. One wears sunglasses. Gay. [[Strut your stuff to the back of the line and wait.|Bouncer]] [[Too intimidating g2g.|Doors]]

A well-behaved and orderly line remains confined within snaking stanchions. Friendly hellos are exchanged between the minimalist, monochrome-clad attendees—wait, is that your former studio professor? There are people wearing badges checking names on iPads near the door. [[Get in line.]] [[SOS nevermind.|Doors]]

A third-storey window illuminated with red light is filled with people’s silhouettes. The hum of music and chatter spills out onto the street below. The door to enter is hard to locate under the streetlight-cast shadow of the above fire escape. You see a stoop with a group of what, in that moment, appears to be the coolest group of people you have ever seen sitting and smoking cigarettes. You double check the DIY poster that was circulated on your phone to make sure this is the right address. It is. [[Deep breath. Approach the stoop.]] [[Hard 180 degree pivot.|Doors]]

The line of immaculately (?) dressed people step forward toward a banner that reads: “Building Alliance Neoclassical Soirée.” It was advertised a few weeks ago in one of those hip architecture magazines. Fuck. Where is your ticket? [[It’s in the pocket of your //other// Issey Miyake pants.|Ticket please]] [[Never got one. They were $100—i.e. the cost of a dozen eggs these days.|Ticket please]] [[It’s in your email inbox somewhere, but your phone is dead :/|Ticket please]]

“Ticket, please?” says a woman dressed in black sitting at a table. [["I don't have it on me, can I give you my name?"|Give your name.]] [["I'm meeting a friend here. I'm their plus one. I think they are already inside."]] [["I don't have one. Would it be possible to buy a ticket?"]]

You get in line to claim a free cocktail named after an architect. As you wait in line someone you went to school with walks by and makes eye contact. [[Pretend you didn't see them.|Order drink]] [[Say hi.]]

It’s hard to tell what the crowd is going to be like tonight. Everyone looks cold in their leather outwear and black puffer jackets, which will surely be shed to reveal less modest layers of colored synthetic fabric once they cross the door to enter. Hushed conversations are exchanged between friends with the exception of a group several people ahead laughing loudly—clearly first-timers. Everyone moves forward. A voice says: “Been here before?” [[*Sweating "Yeah, a little while ago."|Rules]] [[*Lying "Oh, yeah. All the time." |Rules]] [["No, this is my first time."|Rejected]]

*Gestures with head to go in.* [[Phew. Enter the club.|Enter the club.]]

“Tickets please—that will be $25.” [[Reach for your phone for some quick tap-to-pay. It’s dead, of course. “Uh, here,” you say with an outstretched hand full of 1s and 5s retrieved from the bottom of your (insert regional contemporary art museum name here) tote bag.|Inside]] [[“$25? In this economy? Maybe my friends went somewhere else.”|Doors]]

One by one, tickets are scanned and the line steps forward. Small groups step into a too-small room ahead, and the door closes behind them. Each time it opens the base from the music within reverberates through your chest. [[Hand them your ticket.]]

You know the house rules? [[You don't but you're too nervous to do anything other than nod.|DJs]] [[Stare blankly into the void.|Rejected]] [["Yeah, I think so..."|DJs]]

"Step aside." [[Wtf is this, Berlin???|Doors]]

"What DJs are you here to see tonight?" [[*Laughs nervously "I like...uh...all of them...???"|Rejected]] [["Eli Escobar, Eartheater, and I saw DJ Gigola is here from Berlin tonight. I loved her set on HÖR."|Gestures]] [["Juliana Huxtable can step on my face."|Gestures]] [["Diplo?"|Rejected]]

A familiar monologue begins. The speaker explains that the club's Safer Space policies include zero tolerance for violence, racism, transphobia, sexism or other discriminatory language or actions; no photos allowed; no staring; consent is necessary before touching other guests or staff. [[“Ugh, no photos here either?”]] [[“And what if someone breaks the rules?”]] [[“Safe…r space?”]]

The speaker explains that not everyone may consent to their image being circulated outside of the party and that this policy tries to ensure the safety of all attendees. [[Nod in agreement—your phone is dead anyway.|You're in (club)]] [[Nod in agreement—but wish you had documented your outfit before you left your apartment.|You're in (club)]]

The speaker explains that monitors dressed in special uniforms are inside and that any conduct that breaks the policy or behavior that makes someone uncomfortable should be reported. [[Nod in agreement.|You're in (club)]]

The speaker explains that “Safer Space Policies” use harm reduction strategies to protect and care for the club’s visitors while acknowledging that no one policy can account for what everyone needs to feel safe. [[Nod in agreement.|You're in (club)]]

You're in. [[Yay.|Yay (club)]]

The door opens to a large room filled with so much fog that it's hard to tell where it ends. Maybe it goes on forever. It’s crowded. The air is cool but you can still sense the heat of the bodies on the dance floor. [[Wait, is that Gigola on the decks? To the dance floor!|Hours pass]] [[Social anxiety pangs. To the bar!|Bar (club)]]

What feels like hours pass. Sweat drips. Colors blend. Bass moves your body. You ask “What time is it?” to your dance partner. Oh…it's only been 20 minutes. [[Time for a drink.|Bar (club)]] [[You are the dancing kweeeeeeeen.]]

“What’ll it be?” [[Desperate thirst leads to a quick decision. “I’ll have what they’re having.”|Flirt]] [["Just water, please."]]

“Anything else?” [["No, thanks. I'm good." You drink your water (we love hydration) and head to the dance floor.|Hours pass]] [["I'll have what their having."|Flirt]]

“It's on me” says a flirtatious and familiar voice. Your stomach drops. It’s that person you hoped to never run into (romantic tension, awkward past, some bad blood, yatta yatta yatta). Neither of you realize the identity of the other until your eyes are locked. Both regret the encounter. [[Nervously laugh and back your way up to the door. Well, we tried.|Doors]] [["Make it a double. Ha. Ha." You're gonna need it.|Black out]]

Oops. You got too drunk and blacked out. Luckily you ran into some friends who helped you get home. Time to do it all over again next weekend. [[Yay friendship <3|It's Friday night.]]

Feet tired yet? Maybe it's time for a drink. [[Disco divas get thirsty too!|Bar (club)]]

As you approach the stoop you recogize someone you know. "Hey, what's up! How's the party?" "Pretty fun!" they say. "It's just too hot up there will all those people. We're taking a break." [["I'm gonna go check it out, see you in a bit." (You are so brave.)|Going up]] [[Join them on the stoop.|Porch]]

You've been sitting on this stoop for far too long. It's time to go inside. [[You're not my mom!|Doors]] [[Ugh. Fine.|Going up]]

Even though you don't really smoke you grab a cigratte from them anyway to further justify why you are lingering outside. You see another friend approaching about to climb their way through the overly-crowded stoop. [[Ride their self-confident coattails into the party.|Going up]] [[Live out the remainder of your days on this stoop.]]

You make your way up the creaky staircase. The stairs are steep and you wonder if they are up to code. Maybe you're just out of shape. You know you've arrived at the right door because you can hear shouting and music coming from within. You knock but no one answers. [["Hmm it's probably too loud in there." You try knocking again, but louder this time.|Knock again]]

Nothing. [[Call the host.]] [[Text a friend that is already there. (Phone calls are scary)]]

No answer. [[Welp, clearly the universe doesn't want me at this party. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ |Doors]] [[All those people on the stoop just saw me come up I can't leave now. *Bangs with desparation|Door opens]]

"Ahh you made it! Come in! Can I get you something to drink?" [["Yessss pleaseeeeee."|Next]]

No response. They are probably having too much fun at this awesome party to be checking their phone. All of a sudden, as if your prayers have been answered, the door suddenly opens as someone walks out on their way out for a smoke break. [[Success.|Door opens]]

You scan the room and assess the situation. You decide to do lap pretending you are looking for someone, but really you are just curious to see who is here. Your friend is talking to their crush. [[Born to be a third wheel.|Continues]] [[Stand in the corner and pretend to be texting. Try desparetly to give off aloof and mysterious vibes.|Continues]] [[Confidentally stand and sip your drink alone. God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.|Continues]] [[Introduce yourself to the group next to you.|Continues]]

The party continues on but your social battery is wanning. If you have to endure one more conversation of small talk you might die. [[Commit to the bit and get wasted.|Black out 2]] [[French exit.|Doors]]

You are back home, in your bed, blacked out. [[I love my bed.|It's Friday night.]]

As you sip your drink and look around the room to see who else you might recognize. Wait...is that...YOUR THESIS ADVISOR??!?! [[SCATTER!|Doors]] [[They already saw you and are walking over. It's too late to run now.|Get triggered]] [[What's the big deal? You guys are BFFs.|Get triggered]]

"Hey, how's it going! What have you been up to since graduation?" [[Do what needs to be done and have the painful conversation.|Convo]] [[Talking about your career in social settings is fun!|Convo]] [["I think that might be my friend over there. I've been looking for them all night. One second." And you were never to be seen again.|Doors]]

"Hey, how are you? It's nice to see you. How have you been since graduation? Have you continued developing your thesis? Where are you working? What are you going to do with your life? What are your greatest hopes, dreams, and fears?" [[As the star of your graduating class you answer all the questions implecably. It is a master class in networking. Architecture students for generations will speak of this night and what you have accomplished.|Next 2]] [[You enter a trance-like state. Your soul escapes your body and watches the interaction from above as if it's the perspective view in Rhino. You contemplate the void.|Trauma]]

"Oh, not much. Just been working in the city." The bartender interrupts you to take your order. They hand you your drink and you use it as an opportunity to escape the conversation. [[Phew.|Scan the room]]

You avert your gaze back toward the drink menu and move forward to place your order. The person you recognized walks past you without stopping. [[Three cheers for mutual avoidance.|Scan the room]]

"Physical IDs only." [["Come on! I'm almost 30! Can’t you tell by the bags under my eyes and the distinct lack of a youthful spark that I’ve been through architecture graduate school?!?"]]

You manage to squeeze your way in between people. It starts to feel like the bartender is doing everything in their power to not make eye contact. [["Excuse me!"|Still nothing]] [[Stare at them until it's too awkward for them not to look.|Still nothing]]

"I can't let you in without an ID." Meanwhile, a group of clearly underage girls with fake IDs is ushered inside. [[ Now what?|Doors]]

You've tried every which way of getting the bartender's attention short of physical vioence and still nothing. Meanwhile people continue to push and shove you as they make their way through the bar. The densely packed bodies are making it unbearably hot and you are starting to get increasingly frustrated. [[Whatever, screw this place.|Doors]] [[You've come too far and waited too long at this point not to get a drink! You! Will! PREVAIL!!!| Assert yourself!]]

"EXCUSE ME!" you yell. A regular at the bar sitting next to you notices your struggle and offers to order your drink for you. [[Hallelujah.|Get your drink]]

The bartender hands you your drink. "Opened or closed?" [["Keep it open."]] [["I'll close, thanks."]]

You see a group get up from their table but as you approach they say, "We are just going out for a smoke. We're coming back." You decide to just lean against the bar. Noticing your solitude, a creep approaches. "Here alone?" [[Bye.|Doors]]

Oops. You had one too many drinks and blacked out. [[Better luck next time!|It's Friday night.]]

Welcome back to reality. How about heading back to the open bar for another free drink? [[I should have never left.|Black out 3]]

You've check off everyone on your networking list for the evening. Now that business is taken care of it's time to let loose with another free drink. [["Can I get the...Corbusier?"|Black out 3]]

You enter the bar that is far too packed for its size. You immediately give up the hope of finding somewhere to sit and instead try to find a small opening on the bar where you can at least order a drink. Wait, does that sign say "cash only"? [[I'm a seasoned New Yorker. I always have cash on me.|In the bar]] [[Well, that was fun while it lasted.|Doors]]

Ahh the open bar...a minxy temptress who has tested the strength of gala-goers from the dawn of time...like many others who have come before you, you have fallen victim to her cunning ways...your defeat has landed you back home, in your bed, blacked out... [[If you don't get black out at a gala, is it even an open bar?|It's Friday night.]]

"I'm having a hard time finding your ticket. Could you spell your name again for me?" [[S p e l l n a m e s l o w l y.]]

"Great, found it. Here is your wristband. Enjoy the night." The wave of panic that came over you starts to subside as the branded wristband envelops you in its welcoming embrace. You step inside and survery the room. You decide your best bet is to first get a drink. [[Head to the open bar.|Alcohol]]

"Unfortunately, I don't see your name here. Did you receive a confirmation email?" [["No I don't think so. Let me try texting my friend."]]

You step off to the side and start frantically texting. You got out of bed for this, you better get in. You wait a few minutes. Nothing. You wait a few more minutes. Nothing. You text again. Nothing. [[Screw this. I should have never left my bed.|Doors]] [[Call them.]]

"Hey, are you here? I'm at the door but they can't find my name. Can you forward me the confirmation?" The blessed email arrives in your inbox and you get back in line and present it to the woman at the door. She thanks you and gives you a wrist band. [[Time for a well-earned free drink.|Alcohol]]

"I'm sorry, but we are all sold out." [["Oh, well, okay then. Thank you."|Doors]]