Confessions of a Doorman by Robin Barratt

Author:Robin Barratt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: doing the doors, doorman, mercenary, martial arts, violent, life, nightclub, bodyguard, france, russia, ukraine, paris, hollywood, actor, corrupt, officials, steroids, heark attack, controversial, confessions, heart warming, humour
ISBN: 9781908752536
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2012
Published: 2012-04-17T00:00:00+00:00

Bikers In Paris

Because Le Central was on the Champs Élysée it attracted an eclectic mixture of customers, from tiny Japanese tourists with rattling cameras and floppy hats, to bearded, tattooed bikers in leathers and chains. We had no dress code and no specific client profile; anyone that wanted to come in, could.

Originally from California, Jay spoke with a hoarse, grating American drawl that was instantly recognisable. He had long black hair tied back into a pony-tail, a thick moustache, a goatee beard and heavily tattooed arms. Weighty skull and cross-bone rings adorned almost every finger and his thick leather jacket seemed permanently attached to his torso. Jay was a real character and, despite his deceptive and unfriendly appearance, he was a really nice guy who I immediately got on well with. Most Friday and Saturday nights Jay would park his Harley Low Rider outside the entrance to the club and pop in for a few drinks. Sometimes he stayed all night and other times he would just pop in briefly on his way to some party. Most of our conversation was about bikes - specifically Harleys - and girls.

One Friday night, shortly after the club had opened, Jay parked his bike as usual outside the front door and popped up to my office which was directly above the front entrance. As he stomped up the stairs I knew it was him as I had heard the thump, thump, thump of the beautiful sounding 1340cc engine. Apparently Harley-Davidson once tried to patent the sound of its engines. My dream is to someday own a Harley as I have always adored the look, the feel and the exhilarating sound the bike makes.

‘Hey, wanna come out for a drink?’ Jay asked in his distinctive gravel drawl.

‘Where?’ I asked.

‘Got a friend over. Want you to meet him. Just for an hour or two,’ he replied.

The club had just opened and I knew it would be at least a couple of hours before it would get busy. We always opened at 10pm but nobody ever came in much before midnight. The busiest time was from between 2.30 and 5am, and we generally closed at around six in the morning. I would then take the metro home - just as everyone was going to work.

‘Why not?’ I said rising from behind my desk and grabbing the spare crash-helmet I kept on a shelf nearby.

As I left I handed the club’s keys to my assistant manager who was more than capable of running the club in my absence.

I must have looked very strange in my suit and tie behind a leather-clad long haired tattooed biker on his Harley. We drove on the pavement the few hundred yards to the top of the Champs Élysée, then joined the route around the Arc de Triomphe and back down the other side of the Champs. We crossed the busy Place de Concorde and parked directly outside the Hotel Crillion, one of the most exclusive and expensive hotels in Paris.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ I asked jumping off the back.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.