A few years ago, I played a gig in the private party room at the local Ruth's Chris Steakhouse. Upon completion I was told the manager had my recompense.

He was at the restaurant's entrance and gave me the envelope. As always, I was about to schmooze with the manager, hopefully for more gigs there in the future.

Before I had that opportunity, two half-intoxicated trollops from the party came bounding out and loudly demanding to know what I had on underneath. I never tell anyone - it helps maintain the 'mystery', and certainly it is none of their business.

Nonetheless. these two weren't having any of that, they even threatened to prevent me from leaving until they found out. Now, understand these two weren't very much to look at, in fact they were almost as unattractive as a bucket of armpits.

I was already backing away, still hoping to salvage something with the manager, but they came at me from both sides. I slapped hands several times, dodged this way & that. I absolutely hate cold hand & long fingernails. I finally side-stepped them and made it out the doors along with most of my dignity.

That scene was bad enough, until the following day a friend called to ask if I'd performed at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse the night before - I figgered he knew someone in the private party.

Instead, his boss, a FedEx VP had been in the restaurant and witnessed the whole scene - and unknown to me, most the restaurant applauded after I split.

As you may guess, I've not been back to Ruth's Chris to perform.

Slainte yall,
steve