What Happens in Memphis...Gets Re-told Here

Nothing groundbreaking took place over the past few days, but a quick chat with an old friend Monday night brought back one of my all-time most “WTF?” memories.

Almost two full years ago now, I went to Memphis for a full week on business. In truth, to say “on business” feels to me like utter bullshit since it was essentially a week-long conference in which I was really only required to pretend I was paying attention for about six hours a day before being turned loose. Most days after each conference session became their own “how much can we drink and yet still be able to find the hotel afterward” sessions, and between the beer and the barbecue I actually came back home and weighed six more pounds according the scale.

That said, there was one evening where something else happened entirely.
On Wednesday (third day of the actual conference), things ran a little long. A presenter was late, another group actually attending the conference somehow got lost after lunch (which was catered at the hotel; explain that one)…point is, we got out that day a full two hours later than usual. The group of guys I had and would continue to go out and party with asked my preferred plans for the night, to which I replied “I don’t know, but I’ll catch up with you later. I need a quick nap.”

Well, the quick nap turned into a four hour snoozer, where I woke up in my now dark hotel room feeling as if Elvis himself had placed a visit and beat the shit out of me. I tossed and turned for a little while, hoping I’d either fall asleep or die, but in the process I accidently rolled over the remote which turned on the TV, and because the asshole who previously watched it (quite possibly myself) had the volume up apparently for Helen Keller, I ended up scaring the living shit out of myself and sprung up out of bed with all the eloquence and grace of a retarded rhino.

Now awake, obviously, I grabbed my phone and headed down to the main lobby with every intention of calling one of my “conference boys” to meet up with them at whatever (hopefully close-by) drinking establishment they were currently at. However, upon arriving near the front desk and in full view of the all-glass main entrance, I noticed the ever-familiar lights of an ambulance. I darted outside, letting curiosity get the best out of me, and was surprised not at the sight of the ambulance truck itself, but of the two male EMTs laughing their asses off while leaning up against the side of the building.

“Is…everything…okay?” I uttered, still groggy and somewhat achy from the possible assault by the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll himself just hours ago.

The laughing continued, as I wasn’t sure they even acknowledged my presence for what seemed like another five minutes. Eventually the one closest to me shaped up a little, walked toward me, and placed his hand on my shoulder. “With this job, you see the CRAZIEST shit from business travelers, man.” Hand slowly removes itself from my shoulder, man slowly saunters toward fellow EMT, and uncontrollable laughter continues. Also, the slight headache I had after the nap begins to worsen.

I immediately went back to my room, took five Advil, roughly six shots of worth of vodka (the only alcohol I could find in the room, most likely my roommate’s) and buried my head in a pillow. I awoke 13 hours later in a cold sweat, reciting various lines from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and was an hour late for the next day’s conference activities. Yay me.