So, Saturday at 9 o’clock I stop by Jillian’s near Fenway, which according to their website is “a 70,000 square foot Food Entertainment Universe,” and I haven’t been there before but a couple of friends are in there shooting pool so I stop by for a couple of games. I get to the door and show the doorman my ID, and a funny thing happens: he looks down at my feet and asks in an apologetic tone, “Are those boots?” It seems sort of like a rhetorical question since they obviously are, but after a moment of confusion I reply that yes, they are indeed boots. He points to a sign describing the dress code for this particular Food Entertainment Universe, and says he’s sorry but he can’t let me in. The sign says no boots and, in fact, specifically mentions Timberlands, which mine happen to be. So, three things I find funny:
1. This is the middle of January in Boston. There is snow and slush and shit everywhere. (Yes, literal shit. Apparently some Bostonians harbor a belief that if one’s dog’s shit is separated from the ground by a layer of snow, it doesn’t need to be cleaned up because it will magically dissolve into the snow and melt away.) ANYWHO, we have had a major snow storm every week for the past month, I have to hire a sherpa to get from my front door out into the street, and YOU HAVE A “NO BOOTS” DRESS CODE?
2. Yes, these are Timberland brand hiking boots. They’ve been to the top of Mt. Washington, and not in a car. I have sprayed them with silicone sealant to make them extra waterproof, and they serve me quite well in this winterland wonderscape. I have, in fact, probably been wearing Timberlands since this dipshit doorman was in daycare and certainly since before Q-Tip was guest-rhyming about them on Beastie Boys albums (that’s ‘94, if you know me and are checking my math). Which brings me to
3. Do I look like I’m going to get inside Jillian’s Food and Entertainment Universe and start brawling? I’m not wearing these and a gang-colors doo rag; I’m wearing something like these and a dorky fleece hat WITH EARFLAPS. You’ve clearly been taking profiling tips from the TSA.
Not much else to say except I doubt I’ll be going back, or try to go back, to Jillian’s. Ever. I guess I’ll have to get my 70,000 square feet of food and entertainment in some other universe.
