Working for dance music magazine completely ruined me in some ways. For instance, I almost always refuse to pay cover. How can I justify spending money on paying at the door when I spent four formative years getting in for free? When I was working for Lotus, I honed the art of just walking away if the promoter had forgotten to put me on the guestlist, and this skill remains with me (to a fault?) to this day.

Friday night I went to go meet Andreas at a bar where he’d been drinking with his foosball friends. Between the time Dre had gotten there and the time I showed up, the place had started charging. I shrugged and told the doorman to take my wallet for collateral while I ran inside and told Dre I wouldn’t be coming in. I guess Mr. Doorman took this as a negotiation device (it wasn’t), and let me in for free. Thanks, dude. In return, I downed two shots of tequila and got the hiccups.

Last night I took my hoop down to Flammable at Rebar. I’d heard rumors that it was free before 11, so I showed up at 10. Not a single soul was there, but the doorman explained that it was only free before the DJ arrived (which would mean maybe 9 or so) and that I would have to pay to come in. To an empty bar. Part of my point of going so early was that the DJ would be warming up, but no one would be there…perfect hooping space. But Mr. Doorman wanted money from the first person to arrive, and so I turned around and went home. Then I was grumpy and probably should have just paid the $7, but seriously: $7?!