Famed New York nightlife hotspot The Beatrice Inn easily has one of the toughest doors to get through in New York, and that's how they like to keep it. Getting in is kind of like the lottery: "many will enter, few will win." Except winning is entering! The previous definitive guide to the Beatrice managed to neglect one thing, however: how to get in, and what the door there is like. We polled two of our twentysomething West Village roaming staffers, who'll remain (kinda) anonymous, about what the door at Beatrice is like. Follow us as we help you penetrate Beatrice.

What's your Beatrice entrance-rejection record? He: About 10-5, so if the Beatrice playoffs started tomorrow, I'd probably be the wild card. She: Pretty good. I work it in the off-season (any week other than Fashion Week), so that usually helps my average during the season (Fashion Week). I'd say that I'm in the 90th percentile these days.

What's the longest you've ever waited to get in? He:You don't really wait since there isn't really a wait. It's quick and painless. Or painful. She: There's no waiting to get into Beatrice. If there's a line, you're not getting in. The people who formed the line are idiots, and they aren't getting in either. Beatrice respects their WV neighbors, duh.

Best strategy you've seen employed to get in? He: Being Kirsten Dunst. She: There is no strategy. Just be confident. The doormen can smell fear.

Worst strategy? He: Some drunk investment banker types arguing with the doormen that they belong, not understanding how it could be a "private party" when everyone else just waltzed right in. The cops were called, and it was an absolute thrill to watch. She: Walking behind a group arguing about the use of the word "private party" and waiting behind them. Or being a person in the group arguing about the private party. Especially if you are from New Jersey. And not the good kind of Jersey. You're just going to annoy (doormen) Todd and Angelo.

Funniest Beatrice rejection you've seen? He: See above. She: Ben Barna.

If you've ever been rejected, where do you go? He: Corner Bistro or back to Bed-Stuy, with fellow scum. She: It's just another excuse to eat at Corner Bistro. Or just stand on the corner smoking, acting as if you're just leaving in case any of your friends coming out of Beatrice and see you. The "yeah, it's so packed in there ..." really works for your ego.

Is it really worth whatever you've had to go through to get in? He: Let's see, I like, totally saw Emile Hirsch and Dylan McDermott there on the same night, so yes!!! She: Yes. Except when you get down there on a weird night, only to realize the place is full of bottle models and that tall sweaty kid who looks like a 13-year-old member of The Doors, who keeps spilling his vodka-soda on you.

Final notes? He: I was in the area last night with a few friends from out of town -- all guys -- and I wanted to give them the masochist thrill of being rejected from there. Todd, the doorman, asked, "Four guys?" I nodded. Then he scanned us from top to bottom, paused, and said "Sorry guys, can't do it." It felt fucking amazing. She: A big thanks to New York magazine, the Observer, and a barrage of low-grade blogs calling the Bea out on their smoking policies. Now we're forced to smoke on the sidewalks in the dead of winter as some budget bottle model riffles through our Chanel bags and wallets in the Pink Room. Thanks a lot.