The end of the world was coming and I found myself inside Dante’s Inferno, wondering what the hell I was doing here. If the Mayan’s were right, 
and this was humanities last night on earth before we disappeared forever, then surely, I asked myself, I could have found something better to do than stand inside the main hallway of a nightclub that was themed around the nine circles of hell, while two guys close to twice my age that I didn’t know looked me up and down like they couldn’t understand what I was doing here on this freezing night.
“So you’re the help for the night,” one of the men said, a big, tough looking guy who looked to be in his sixties. He spoke in a gruff Liverpool accent and he was wearing a black suit and dickey-bow that quite frankly, looked like it belonged in a museum. Somehow, the guy pulled it off, if only because his steely-eyed stare suggested he would rip your head off if you dared to comment on his ancient attire. He began to laugh as he looked over at the guy who was standing by the front entrance to the club, busy letting people through the door.
“Doesn’t look like much, does he Terry?” the other man said. He was bald, in his fifties. I found myself wondering what was wrong with his ears as I stared over at him. They looked like a child had fashioned them out of Plasticine, so misshapen were they.
“Not really, Geoff,” said Terry before suddenly making a lunge at me, his huge hand flying towards my head. Instinctively I threw my arms up to cover my head and Terry burst out laughing, as did Geoff over at the door.
“Someone’s a bit on edge there, Terry,” Geoff said laughing.
“Just a bit, Geoff!”
“You’s are funny,” I said shaking my head, feeling like an idiot.
“Ah, we’re only messing,” said Terry, slapping me on the shoulder, managing to off-balance me. I never want this man to hit me for real, I thought.
“I’m Neal,” I said. “I’m supposed to start tonight.”
“Good to meet you, Neal,” said Terry, suddenly appearing warmer than before. “I’m Terry, this is Geoff. I’m head doorman in this hell hole,” he said. “Geoff over there pretends he’s head doorman as well, but we both know he’s just my bitch, isn’t that right, Geoff?”
“Fuck you, O’Neill,” said Geoff as he got ready to greet a load of people heading towards the club entrance. “Look out. These guys are all over the fucking place. End of the world, Terry. Fucking guys can’t put enough away. Remind me to whack that turd of a manager before we leave, getting us in here tonight of all nights. The greedy cunt should’ve closed the place and lay up with that bimbo girlfriend of his. But no, he decides there’s money to be made tonight.”
“Fuck it, Geoff,” said Terry, walking over towards him to see what kind of crowd was coming. “You’d only be home writing another book that no one wants to read.” Terry laughed.
“Yeah, fuck you O’Neill. Haven’t you a bit part in a movie somewhere. I heard Schwarzenegger is making a new Conan film. Maybe you could be his fluffer.”
“They only use fluffers in porno movies, Geoff,” Terry said as he put his arms out to stop some drunk from falling through the door. “Hold on there, son.”
“I know, but he just likes you sucking his cock anyway,” Geoff said, before turning his attention to two guys who were stood in front of him, severely inebriated. “Don’t think so, lads. Not tonight.”
“Ah, come on, Thompson, you cunt. Let us in.”
“No lads, look at the fucking state on you’s. I know the end of the world is nigh, but fuck me…”
“What?” one of the drunks said.
“What’s he on?” the other said. “Fuck it, we don’t care…just let us fucking in. There’s a couple of girls inside waiting on us.”
“Who’s that then, your mum’s?” said Geoff and Terry burst out laughing.
“Yeah, you’re a funny cunt, Thompson,” one of the drunks said, no humour in his face or voice whatsoever. He had turned nasty inside. I could see it.
“Take a joke,” Terry said to them. “And come back in an hour when you’re more sober.”
“You think we’re fucking thick or something,” one of the drunks said. “We’ll never get in!”
“You said it, lad,” said Terry.
A moment of silence descended. No one said anything. Here we go, I thought.
One of the drunks took a swing at Geoff. It wasn’t a good swing. Geoff leaned back and countered with a right cross to the guy’s jaw that sent the guy to the ground, dropping him faster than a lead balloon. The guy lay unconscious on the wet tarmac.
The other drunk looked at Terry, considering whether to have a go. “I don’t think so, lad. That would be a big mistake on your part.”
The outraged drunk stood his ground. You could see him building himself up to have a go at Terry. I felt sorry for him. I’d only met Terry a few moments ago but I instinctively knew what was coming next. The drunk took a step closer and then he was on the ground unconscious with his mate. Or at least that’s how it seemed. In reality, Terry, this man in his sixties, had roundhouse kicked the guy in the jaw. It happened so fast I barely seen it. I stood there astounded.
Terry turned around to face me. “Are you just going to stand there all night or you going to go to work?”
“Eh, yeah, sorry,” I said, still in shock over that amazing knock-out of Terry’s. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Go inside and ask Dennis where he wants you.”
“Okay,” I said and I turned and began to walk out of the main hallway, towards the inside of the club and the ear-bashing music.
“Oh, and Neal?”
I looked back.
“Welcome to hell,” Terry said with a smile.
I turned and walked into the club.
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This was certainly an interesting story: obviously the world didn’t end (must be some sort of miscalculation, lol) so hopefully your last evening will be somewhat more comfortable. I suppose working doors for years on end gives you a certain prowess and confidence that’s not easy to get otherwise, that being said I don’t consider knocking out two drunks the height of skill (sloppy attacks, no defence, no balance, no reflexes whatsoever) but obviously these guys can fight and I’m sure you learned alot from them. Knockouts by high kick certainly are impressive, especially outside the ring, but I would never attempt them because a) I don’t specifically train to kick high and b) it’s just too dangerous for obvious reasons. To me fighting is not about looking cool but about getting the job done asap, the sooner the better and the less chance of getting seriously hurt yourself. Still it would be folly to mess with an old dog like that head-doorman, even if you’re trained which those drunks clearly weren’t. Real-life experience is invaluable and it’s something you just can’t recreate in the dojo no matter how hard you train. Luckily I’m always aware of my alcohol-intake when going out (if I feel I’m too drunk to properly converse with people or I feel slow or unbalanced I know it’s time to go home) and I’m polite so the chances of ever having to scrap with doormen are close to 0.
The theme of that evening was well chosen: lately I tend to avoid bars and disco’s and the like since they totally lost their appeal and I just don’t feel at ease with loud music and lots of strangers, plus it’s just insane how much money you lose even in a single night which could be so much better spent (travelling, buying books…). Much better to just stay at home, go to a classical concert or visit a friend: I found I have much more fun that way and it’s certainly a lot cheaper too but to each his own of course. If bars and the like weren’t popular you would be out of a job, so lets hope people will never learn.
I’d certainly appreciate more of these type of stories.
Nice stuff Neal..Geoff would be glad:-)
The two doormen in that story were based upon two real guys, Terry O’Neill and Geoff Thompson. Terry was famous for knocking people out with his feet when he worked doors. You can read about his legendary antics in Dennis Martin’s book, Working With Warriors. And obviously Geoff Thompson was famous for flooring people with his right cross. I didn’t put much thought into that story (can’t you tell
). I wanted to write and that was what came out. I thought it would be cool at the time to put real people into it. God know’s why lol! If I write further installments, names will be changed!
I don’t work doors anymore. I have no interest in that job anymore. It’s one of those things that when you are out you have no interest in going back and you wonder why you did it for so long. I’ve gotten the experiences that I needed from it. Time to move on.
The only time I frequented pubs and clubs was when I worked in them. I stop going to such places when I quit partying (my hedonistic period). They hold no draw for me. I don’t drink anymore either, except on special occasions, which are rare (thankfully…I hate hangovers!). I relax in other ways now. I watch some of the good TV shows on my laptop (Dexter, Walking Dead etc.) most nights. Then I generally write into the small hours. I don’t even own a TV anymore. I git rid of it finally. Don’t miss it or any of the crap that was on it either.
Like I said in my article, I live within a different context now. Other things are important to me. Different pursuits, different goals. Bouncing or partying doesn’t figure into that anymore. Just my family, my training and my writing…developing my potential. Boring to some, but I enjoy my life now more than ever. I just want to walk this path I’m on and see where it takes me
Your context and habits sound a lot like mine, except I substitute the writing and family life for reading and studying. Eventhough I’m only 29 as I grow older I find I need more and more time to myself: to reflect, unwind and generally come to terms with the world and myself. Of course I do have friends and we meet up on a regular basis but it’s rare we go to bars and the like: instead we either stay at home or we go to concerts, exhibitions… I don’t need crowds to enjoy myself (on the contrary) and I’d rather spend time with thoughtful, interesting people who are capable of forming their own opinions and taste instead of going along with the general consensus. As to alcohol: I do drink semi-regularly but it’s mostly in small quantities (a glass of wine or whisky now and then is nice and healthy) unless there’s a special occassion. I really don’t need to get drunk anymore: a nice buzz is good enough and I really can’t stand hangovers anymore plus it’s just a huge waste of time the morning after since the day is basically lost in terms of productiveness.
PS: from the story I couldn’t deduce whether it was fiction or not.
I thought people would know it was fiction from the way it was written. I just used my experience to concoct a scene. And of course I used real well known figures from the martial arts world. And my own name lol! Like I said, I was just creating for the sake of it. I enjoy the process, regardless of the end result. That helps me keep at it. If I expected everything I wrote to be popular or applauded, I wouldn’t last very long! Writing is just something I do now, along with training. You try to achieve the best results of course, but results come second to the process. Probably the less you worry about the outcome, and the more you enjoy the process, the better the outcome will be. That’s usually the case, I find, with anything. It can be a difficult thing to keep your mind of desired outcomes, to want them a little too badly. That kind of neediness tends to push those outcomes farther away. It takes mental discipline to to not obsess over the outcome, to trust that you will arrive at your desired outcome when the time is right. That’s a discipline I’m still working on, but I find I’m getting better at it, and seeing more results because of that. Every day is a challenge, but I guess that’s what keeps things interesting. The trick is realizing that and coming to terms with the fact that there will always be struggle, doubt, uncertainty and fear, but the rewards for facing down those emotions are potentially great. You just do it despite everything else. Sounds simple, but it has taken me my whole life to get to where I am now and I feel like I am just of the starting blocks. I inch my way along the path I have chosen, day by day, powered by the faith I have in what I am doing. Lol…getting too pretentious now! To sum up: I just fucking do what I do and hope for the best! Can’t be any plainer than that!
It seemed like it could have happened since I know you bounced before and the situation seemed pretty realistic, plus not being from Britain or Ireland the names didn’t ring a bell. The story was well written: I can’t comment on the creative process since I’m hardly a writer myself (lately I have been keeping a journal of sorts though: mainly to keep me on track and to see how my life evolves as I get older) but I know most of the great writers didn’t get there by sheer inspiration or genius but through hard work and trial-and-error so it would seem you’re on the right path. Plus you’re having fun doing it, which of course is the best reason for doing something and (probably) will offer the greatest chance for succes.
Merry christmas!
lol…not sure if he would or not. In hindsight, using real names may not have been the smartest move on my part. In defence, I was suffering from sleep deprivation when I wrote the piece. If I decide to write further installments, I will change names to protect the innocent…and the guilty
Ehehe you were pretty sure that Earth would have been erased and you carried the risk..but now we have to live and take consequences:-)