"Wingman" is a word you don't hear much anymore. It was popular while I was in college, thanks to a few cutesy Coors Light commercials. I'm an excellent wingman. I'm funny, gregarious, and can make anyone feel comfortable around me in a short amount of time. Hand me a girl with a boyfriend and salty attitude while you're trying to take her friend home, and in five minutes she's doing shots and laughing at one of my doorman stories. I do, of course, have my limits. And so the story ensues:
A bellman buddy of mine from work, Brian, and I were both stuck working till midnight. He's an Irish guy from Jersey that speaks fluent Japanese. We have a large clientele from Japan, and the women all flock to him like he's Vincent fucking Chase. I've never understood the appeal in Japanese women. Nothing against them - they're really sweet and stuff - but they just never interested me, or paid me any mind.
Brian and I are working till midnight, and he comes to me in a tizzy:
Brian- "Dude, I have this Japanese girl that wants to hang out."
Brian- "I know! But there's a problem - she has two friends that won't leave her side."
Brian- "I need you to come to Japas with us and keep them busy."
Japas is a chain of Karaoke bars in Manhattan that we frequent after work. He's an excellent singer, and sings in Japanese. White guy with a perfect pitch in Japanese always tears the roof off the building.
Doorman- "Do they speak English?"
Brian- "Yeah, sure. Kind of. Not really. Maybe a little. I dunno. No."
Cut to an hour later, and I'm thumbing through the karaoke book, sitting in between these 2 girls who don't speak a word of English while Brian is crushing a song and wooing his girl.
Doorman- "Do you like Notorious B.I.G?"
They just stare at me. I guess not.
My go-to Karaoke song is "Juicy" by Biggie Smalls. It always crushes in bars, because I play the nerdy white guy card before the song starts, then seamlessly transition into a full-on, mothafuckin' gangsta. Then I make people uncomfortable when I drop the "if you don't know, now you know, nigga..." lyric.
It's my turn, and I kill, as usual. The girls don't know what exactly what's going on, other than everyone else in the bar thinks I'm awesome. Everyone is clapping and cheering like I'm their son being introduced as the host of Saturday Night Live. Maybe I'm onto something here. I mean, what a feat that would be, to hook up with a Japanese girl who doesn't speak a word of English. Or, better yet, a threesome? That's a first-ballot, bachelor Hall-of-Fame move.
I'm starting to warm up to this evening. The girls just watched me triumphantly win over a bar full of aggressive karaoke drunks with my lyrical flow. Maybe we should take this party to my place. These girls haven't seen New York City till they've seen my 52nd-story rooftop.
Doorman- "Brian, let's go to the roof."
His eyes light up. He addresses the girls:
Brian- "あなたが興味を持っています Doorman のアパートでマンハッタンの美しい景色を rooftop に来て希望の女性は、我々は疑問に思っていた?"
They agree. It's on.
The taxi ride is interesting, to say the least. I just keep feeding Brian things to tell them about me- how I'm an actor and only working as a doorman so I could live in Manhattan and audition. That I did a bunch of commercials and TV pilots (which is mostly true). I can't tell if they're impressed or not, because they've been doing nothing but politely nodding and smiling since the evening started.
Oh, maybe this would be a good time to mention that fraternizing with guests in the hotel is a fireable offense. I'm positive we broke that by simply meeting them at the bar. Now we're going to my apartment. There's this thing called "thinking" that I tend to disregard.
We get to my building, and the doorman sees me walking in with two Japanese girls, arm in arm. He gives me the head nod. I shrug my shoulders and wink. A Japanese girl threesome... no big deal. I can see "Shit, I'm doormaning in the wrong place" running through his head.
The roof closes at 11pm and it was well into the middle of the night. I have a trick way of getting in, and since I tip my building staff handsomely throughout the year, they turn a blind eye to me bringing people up there after-hours. See how far tipping gets you?
The bathroom, however, gets locked when the roof closes. We make a pit-stop at my apartment so everyone could tinkle before we head upstairs. I thought I'd liven up the party a little bit, so I empty out the beer fridge. Eleven Pabts Blue Ribbons.
That's a little light for a party of five. Maybe I should get my little stash of weed.
I go into my room, and dig through my junk drawer for my little baggie of ganja. Success. I take it out to the girls, who are all sitting in the living room waiting for me, and show it to them, with a smile.
Doorman- "Huh? Huh? Anyone?"
They look at me like I brought out a hypodermic needle and an uzi.
Brian- "Wrong crowd, dude. Japanese people don't do that."
Great, now they're scared. Terrific. And what the fuck? "Japanese people don't do that?" That can't be true! Though I didn't have time for follow up questions - I had a Japanese girl threesome to conquer.
As if showing them my big, bad DRUUUUGS were troublesome, the process to get to the roof was even worse. Since the elevators don't go up there after they close, we have to take it up to the penthouse, then through a bunch of hallways, into a shady, dimly-lit stairwell, and out the fire escape door. They're holding each other's hands for dear life. Brian had to console them:
I don't know what the fuck he's saying. I pop a beer.
Time to unveil the roof. And unveil, I did, like Willy Wonka opening the doors to the chocolate factory.
Judging by their fear on the way up, they were probably expecting a group of men waiting to rob and violate them, so their reaction to the roof being everything we advertised was fun to watch. Just a symphony of cute little "ooohhhhh's" and "aaahhhhhhh's" and "do doooo's". It was, for a brief moment, oddly fulfilling. Here these girls probably spent three hours and $30 a piece waiting to go to the top of the Empire State Building, only to be crammed up in the observation desk with 1,000 other tourists. Here I was, charitably providing them with a unique view of the greatest city in the world...
But I still want to have my Japanese girl threesome.
Brian eventually gets his girl off to one side of the roof, leaving me to do my work. Just me and the girls. With no Brian. No translator. The three of us just stand there, staring at each other.
What's the matter, Doorman? Did you think that they would just drop their panties at the first sight of this magnificent view? HAHAHA!!! You fucking asshole!!! You know what helps when you're trying to get a girl, never mind two, into bed? COMMUNICATION!!! Nice head, dick!!!
And it was just that. I looked at them, at a loss for ANY type of action. My logic was right - what the hell was I thinking? Oh, that's right. There's that little thing called "thinking" that I tend to disregard. Now Brian has vanished, and I'm standing here, like a dick, with these two girls don't speak a word of English. I see their eyes glazing over. They're not sure what to do, either. I offer them a beer. They decline. Great, now I'm drinking alone.
I decide to give them the nickel tour of the landmarks. I know a little history about the buildings, but WHAT FUCKING GOOD IS THAT GOING TO DO ME?!?! So I just point to things and say what they are and keep walking. Each of which, they echo back to me.
Doorman- "Brooklyn Bridge."
Girls- "Brook-leen Bri-dge"
Doorman- "Empire State Building."
Girls- "Em-pi-ru Stay Bir-ding"
Doorman- "Freedom Tower."
Girls- "Free-Dom Tow-oo."
Doorman- "Almost finished."
Girls- "Al-mo feen-ish."
I pop another beer. Then another. And another.
About an hour goes by. Brian is still on the other side of the roof deck, sucking face with his chick. My girls have sat down and began looking through their cameras at old photos. I'm drinking aggressively. I count seven empty cans.
Doorman- "Who wants to have a dance party?"
I might as well have some fun. They don't understand. I show them my iPhone and sway my hips around like a pregnant woman trying to hoola-hoop. They don't get it. This sucks.
I go into my Spotify and find the first pop song that comes up on my playlist - Empire State of Mind by Alicia Keys and Jay-Z.
Perfect! Fitting! Bravo, Doorman!!! Now, what?
They take the phone from me and listen closely through Jay-Z's first verse. Nothing. When it gets to the chorus, they sing along in the most hysterically off-key voices I've ever heard.
Girls- "Do do do NEW YAAAAAAARK.... do do do NEW YAAAAAAARK... do do do NEW YAAAAAAARK."
They repeat that through the whole song. I awkwardly start to dance, trying to get some sort of bodily interaction going. Neither of them notice, because they're not paying attention to me. I give it a couple more seconds, then slowly fade out and pretend that I'm stretching. I'm shamefully embarrassed because the doorman that I arrogantly winked at on the way in is likely watching this on the security cameras, and has called in the whole building staff to come watch.
Fuck this. I give up. I sit at a booth, and keep drinking.
Brian mercilessly comes back with his girl about twenty minutes later. They all sit down with me. Brian asks for a beer. I go into the bag, and there's none left. I just housed eleven beers in a matter of two hours. Oops.
Brian- "Jesus, dude."
I have a the two girls on either side of me, and everyone is yucking it up in Japanese.
Well, I'm glad you're all happy!!! But what about ME?!? This is MY HOUSE! What do I get out of this, huh?!?!
I take one, final triumphant gulp from my skunked Pabst, and make my move. I interrupt Brian while he's mid-sentence.
Doorman- "Brian. Brian. Brian. Brian."
Brain- "Yes! Yes! What's up, buddy?"
Doorman- "Which one of these chicks is gonna make out with me?"
He laughs. I don't. I'm serious. The smile fades from his face.
He laughs again.
He addresses the girls, while I take a more seductive pose. (Opening my eyes a little wider and trying to make my face look less Walter Matthau-esque.)
Brian- "女性はこれが面倒かもしれないが Doorman は情熱的にあなたにキスしたいと思います。我々は それ米国で make-out 呼ぶ。誰も興味がありますか？"
They look at Brian, then look at me, then cover their mouths an start giggling.
Girl- "Hehehehe.. no... no..."
I laugh. I drop my last empty beer into the bag.
Doorman- "Okay, everyone get the fuck out!"
Brian knows that he's at the end of his rope, so he politely tells them that I'm tired and ready for bed.
I take the elevator down with them and get off at my floor. They're all very grateful.
Girls- "Sank YOOOOOOOUUUUUU!!!!" (Bows profusely.)
Whatever. You're welcome. They went home the next day, and I carried their luggage to the shuttle bus. They each gave me one dollar.
We obviously didn't get in trouble for our shenanigans, and Brian still talks to his girl.
So while my attempt at a great feat went wide-left by about 50 yds., I WAS successful in being the best fucking wingman ever.