If Potpourri for 500, prior to my arrival was a 5 course meal, my posts will be like an intermezzo. Knowing my fellow contributors, you need a well backed (even if it is delusional) argument if you're to open a dialogue. I've always enjoyed listening to the banter amongst our friends, piping in where I feel I can make a point.
Before the Versace Mansion in Miami became Casa Casuarina, I had an opportunity to attend an event there, sponsored by my former company. The invitation only soiree was so popular, we had to turn people away. Once "in" no one wanted to leave...it was fantastic! The most memorable part of the evening follows...
On a visit to the ladies room, I encountered a guest who appeared to be on the verge of passing out on the couch...I asked if she was OK and she mumbled yes. When you're on an airplane, they tell you to put your oxygen mask on first before assisting others, so I decided to use the loo prior to helping the her out. She was in no better state after, so I called security...she was removed and my friends and I (all "hosts") made sure we blocked her view from other guests to save her embarrassment.
Once our good deed was done, we partied like rock stars until the end of the evening. Leaving the Mansion, Ocean Drive was like a scene out of a movie...lights, music, tons of people and an ambulance...with more flashing lights.
The most beautiful man I have ever seen came out from behind the ambulance...the boys and girls alike in my group all stopped and stared (and fought to determine which "team" he played on). His shirt was unbuttoned nearly to the waist (Miami Beach uniform protocol?). The whole scene played out in slow-motion (insert whatever music is going through your head right now)...including the fact that the ambulance was there to pick up the "drunk chick". I thought it terribly unfair that I did not get to ride in the ambulance with the beautiful man. "I FOUND HER" I shouted...to no avail. Once there was nothing left to see, we wandered off to the Crow Bar for more fun. For the rest of the conference my boys from California (my favorite industry travel pals to this day) called me "Rescue 911".
We found out later that our "drunk chick" was a party crasher from a competitor (had she been a guest, I would have referred to her as a young lady) and we no longer had sympathy for her situation. At that point, hospitality was put to the side and we made fun of her and her lower tiered accommodations.