I was never a big believer in omens and the like, but I should have paid heed to the signs that were unfolding. At Paradise, we had chosen to combine the Phase 3 grand opening with our most popular weekend; our Halloween Extravaganza. To begin with, we were finalizing the details at the Thursday manager's meeting prior to the big event. We were interrupted by a call from the tiki bar. Rich, the food and beverage manager, picked it up on speakerphone and barked, “This better be important. We're in the middle of a meeting!" Crystal, our lovely new bartender, replied in a panicked voice, “Rich, come quick! My Busch is foaming and vibrating!” Without missing a beat, Rich came back with,“Don’t move! I’ll be right there”. Needless to say, the meeting fell apart into uproarious laughter. As it turned out, Crystal had just connected one of her kegs incorrectly, but in hindsight that was just the first sign.
Then, around 3 pm that same day, the obligatory afternoon thunderstorm blew in. Living in the lightning capitol of the world, most folks around these parts just took these storms for granted, but Kenny wasn’t like most folks. You see, Kenny was a little different; he was some sort of lightning magnet. Kenny had survived being directly struck by lightning on three separate occasions and had also been in seventeen buildings that were hit. Kenny kept very accurate records of these things, you know. Understandably, Kenny would get a little nervous in the afternoon, so I usually made it a point to stop by the front gate and check in on him. Just as I was approaching the gatehouse on my golf cart, the sky opened up and the brightest flash of white light I had ever seen pierced the roof of the gatehouse, followed by a cracking sound that could wake the dead. As the smoke cleared, all I could see was a large black rimmed hole in the highest point of the gatehouse roof. I quickly parked the golf cart and rushed inside, expecting the worst. What I found was Kenny crouched in the corner, mumbling something to himself over and over. I never figured out what Kenny was trying to tell me, but his building count went up to eighteen that day.
As soon as we got a makeshift patch on the roof, it was time to set up for the Ladies Night kickoff party featuring the Wickedest Witch Lingerie Contest. Halloween weekend parties at Paradise were always crazy, but with the opening of the new club, this year would be off the chain. I had asked all of our lovely contestants to line up on the stage and told them that I would call them down one at a time to parade around the judges, who were seated in the middle of the dance floor. My first contestant was a tall slender beauty, dressed all in black and wearing four inch stiletto heels. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to have ladies stepping down to the dance floor from a three foot high stage. Thank god the room was packed beyond legal capacity that evening because just as she lost her balance and started to plummet head first towards the dance floor, she was gently caught by the crowd of adoring onlookers below. Now I really don’t think she had rehearsed this little prat fall, but her theatrics definitely played a part in her being crowned the Wickedest Witch in Paradise.
To be continued… Same Dude Time, Same Dude Channel
Then, around 3 pm that same day, the obligatory afternoon thunderstorm blew in. Living in the lightning capitol of the world, most folks around these parts just took these storms for granted, but Kenny wasn’t like most folks. You see, Kenny was a little different; he was some sort of lightning magnet. Kenny had survived being directly struck by lightning on three separate occasions and had also been in seventeen buildings that were hit. Kenny kept very accurate records of these things, you know. Understandably, Kenny would get a little nervous in the afternoon, so I usually made it a point to stop by the front gate and check in on him. Just as I was approaching the gatehouse on my golf cart, the sky opened up and the brightest flash of white light I had ever seen pierced the roof of the gatehouse, followed by a cracking sound that could wake the dead. As the smoke cleared, all I could see was a large black rimmed hole in the highest point of the gatehouse roof. I quickly parked the golf cart and rushed inside, expecting the worst. What I found was Kenny crouched in the corner, mumbling something to himself over and over. I never figured out what Kenny was trying to tell me, but his building count went up to eighteen that day.
As soon as we got a makeshift patch on the roof, it was time to set up for the Ladies Night kickoff party featuring the Wickedest Witch Lingerie Contest. Halloween weekend parties at Paradise were always crazy, but with the opening of the new club, this year would be off the chain. I had asked all of our lovely contestants to line up on the stage and told them that I would call them down one at a time to parade around the judges, who were seated in the middle of the dance floor. My first contestant was a tall slender beauty, dressed all in black and wearing four inch stiletto heels. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to have ladies stepping down to the dance floor from a three foot high stage. Thank god the room was packed beyond legal capacity that evening because just as she lost her balance and started to plummet head first towards the dance floor, she was gently caught by the crowd of adoring onlookers below. Now I really don’t think she had rehearsed this little prat fall, but her theatrics definitely played a part in her being crowned the Wickedest Witch in Paradise.
To be continued… Same Dude Time, Same Dude Channel
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