It's not my fault.
I'm in Orlando FL last week working a Trade Show and since I set-up quickly I had a night free. So, instead of curling up in the wonderful bed the Westin had provided, I decide to go out and have a drink and a cigar. Luckily for me, there is a little bar that caters to the specific kind of loser that I am. Scotch and a cigar, pretty easy stuff. Should have been in bed by 11. Well, the story I'm about to tell you is centered around this one simple phrase "It's not my fault". Read through and see if you agree.

I'm half way through the cigar when I order another drink. I start talking to the bartender and the guy next to me starts up a conversation. I'm in a good enough mood to start talking to the guy and he is pretty interesting. I'm getting to the end of the cigar and almost ready to leave when the "musical act" kicks in. These guys suck. I mean really suck. It's amazing people don't start crying they suck so bad. I'm determined to leave as soon as I finish the 'gar.

Just then, a group of 20 somethings come in and take over the bar. There were three couples and they started off by ordering something like three shots each. One of the guys gets the guitar from the screeching loon who has been terrorizing our ears and he starts singing with one of the girls. The guy is really pretty good - especially because he is making up the words to your favorite songs. Everything was about someone in the bar and it was hilarious.

OK, I say. I go and get another cigar and order another drink and settle in to watch the floor show. It's not my fault that things are finally looking pretty good and the fun is starting. Then the guy I was talking to says something like "you really like those things, don't you" and pointed to the gar. "Yes", "Well, then I'll be right back".

So, I’m enjoying my second cigar and something like my fourth scotch when a couple of things start happening.
1. I get buzzed – because of this the rest of the story is an approximation - hell the last part was too.
2. The girls that came in with funny guitar guy start dancing around making Charlies Angels poses and ordering more drinks.
3. The guy brings me a Macanudo (another gar)

This is definitely not my fault. If this confluence of events hadn’t happened, I would be safely in bed at 1:00. But, I couldn’t pass on the cigar (the guy actually left the bar to get it). The girls were drunk and dancing, and the guitar guy just started in on an Eddie Vedder impersonation.

I guess it’s important to know that in Orlando, the closing time is 2:00. If you are in a bar that doesn’t exactly feel like that is a law that needs to be followed… well, then what follows can’t really be your fault, now can it.

The guy next to me starts buying my drinks and is talking to me about what the rest of his life is going to be like. The bartender is pouring shot after shot and I’m getting drunkerer and drunkerer. Finally, the guitar guy and his crowd beat it and I realize It’s 3:00 and I need to be up at 5:30. I pay my tab ($37.80) and get out of there. I’m in my bed at 3:30 and seriously spun.

Two hours later I get up, dressed, and ready to go… yes, it’s a tough job but I did get to the golf course on time. Our round went pretty well and we were getting back to the hotel to clean up and get ready to go to the event.

I got downstairs first and saw that the hotel had a Sunday brunch and it looked really good (anything looked good at that point) and so I decided to eat there. My co-worker came down and we decided to sit at the bar and have the buffet. It turns out that it was a Champagne buffet, but I decide that iced tea is the drink of choice as I try to push a little of last night out of my system. It’s not my fault that the guy started serving really good champagne… there were three of us at the bar, Tony, Steve and Me, and we drank three bottles of champagne.

Just as we were finishing, a lady came up and started talking to Tony and soon we find out she is a musician and is going to have a show that night. I asked her who she is and she tells me “Chantal Somethingorother”. And I say “Cool, never heard of you – what kind of music?”. She says “how about I invite you all to the show and you can see for yourself”. I’m thinking “yeah, sure – right” but I give her my cell phone number anyway.

At the show, I get a call and sure enough – the passes are waiting at the door under my name. I look to Steve and say “No Shit”.

We go to the show and well, it wasn’t really my thing – kinda mellow rock that makes my skin crawl. I guess I wasn’t alone because soon Tony comes up to us and we exchange hello’s and the “I can’t believe she really is a rock star’s”. And then he says, “Hey, my good friend is the executive chef at Emril’s – wanna go to dinner?”

This part is really not my fault… We go to Emeril’s and get seated right away in the corner of the upstairs dining room. A couple of appetizers come with the regards from the chef and we are under way… several dishes later it’s dessert time and we are closing in on 1:00 in the AM.

On the way home, Steve calls his wife and I hear him start the conversation, “ Honey, it’s not my fault”…