Take a look at the picture above and note the guy's outfit. The story below pretty much centers around it. Aside note: The girl in a beautiful green dress is me. Now on with the story.
On Saturday the much anticipated trip to
After a 1.5 hour drive, we arrived up at the Borgata around , thinking that we’d have some time to gamble and then leisurely stroll into the club and perhaps even snap a few pictures of DJ AM doing his thing on the turn tables.
Well, much to our dismay and horror, the line to the club stretched for what seemed like a mile from the entrance door down past the slot machines and poker tables, wrapped around a couple of corners and was, as a very good-looking casino employee informed me, “2 hours long.”
Instead of panicking and getting discouraged, my friends and I ordered a few drinks at a nearby bar, and proceeded to the end of the line. It was only after all and the clubs in AC never close. We still had a whole night ahead of us. Plus, the wait is always shorter when there is a good buzz going.
About an hour into our wait, we made some decent progress advancing in line and could actually see the entrance to mur.mur, when a woman who was in charge of the guest list/admission walked up to us.
“How many of you guys?” she asked as she stopped dangerously close next to me, with her silicone boobs invading my space. I had to take a step back.
“Four,” my friend Glam Girl replied, pointing to her boyfriend, me and another friend.
DJ AM’s Ho eyed Glam Girl’s boyfriend up and down suspiciously.
“Um, well, you ladies are fine but you do know that in order to get in, the gentleman needs to wear a collared shirt AND dress shoes, right?” she seemed clearly disgusted with Glam Girl’s man’s get up which consisted of a very cute (in my opinion) T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. As she said that, she waltzed away in her seven inch heels. Ugh, what a buzz kill.
“Okay, okay…” Glam Girl wanted to freak out but was doing her best to contain herself, “We’ll just go to a store and get a collared shirt.”
“But what about the dress shoes?” my friend, Ms.
“Shit,” Glam Girl was now in full-on panic mode,” I don’t even know if there are any stores around here that sell shoes.”
“You guys can go in without me…” Glam Girl’s boyfriend had a look of guilt and embarrassment on his face, “ I don’t want to keep you from going to the club.”
“Guys! Perfect solution! I’m going to go to Lost and Found and see if they have any shoes that anyone lost!”
The three of us looked at Ms.
But we let her go do some asking around anyway. What was the worst that could happen?
The boyfriend, meanwhile, kept apologizing profusely. I felt bad for the guy. It wasn’t his fault that DJ Douche decided to impose a Nazi-esque dress code on everyone. I, personally, in all the promo pictures I’ve seen of DJ AM, have never seem him wear a shirt with a collar. What a hypocrite he was for wanting everyone else to conform to an unnecessary dress code. Even worse, I thought the boyfriend’s outfit choice was very reminiscent of the type of clothes Adrian Grier can be seen wearing on HBO's Entourage. Slightly laid back, but by no means something you would just wear around your house.
After about twenty minutes, Ms.
“I can’t let you not go in because of me…” Glam Girl’s boyfriend started again, but I had to interject at that moment.
“Look.... let’s just all go to Mixx. It’s right around the corner. I’ve been there before: it's a great club and they don’t have a strict dress code. DJ AM is missing out on the four hottest people in all of
“…Are you sure? You’re not just saying this to make me feel better?” the boyfriend still didn’t seem too convinced.
“Yeah. DJ AM can suck it. I would never leave any of my friends out in the cold, so to speak, while I’m dancing at some club to some guy’s music. Let’s go.”
So there it was. When life gave us lemons, we made lemonade. The wait in line for Mixx was only 20 minutes. The club was still packed and the music was as dance-worthy as ever. And as for DJ AM? He needs to come back down to earth and realize that just because someone isn’t wearing a shirt with a collar that he can pop, doesn’t mean that that person should not be able to get into his parties.
Your loss, AM. You missed out on some kick-ass people this weekend.