It's 10:35pm last night and the biggest fear of a banquet manager happened. The damm fire alarm goes off. Now I do as I'm taught...run like a maniac from meeting room to meeting room and escort all the guests outta the building.Well, of course I don't run but calmly go and check each room, we had 3 parties last night, and start to have the guests at least be prepared to leave while we find out what happened.
It turned out after the fact that there was a water leak from the floor above that landed on some wires. That in turn set off the fire alarm. Hopefully Engineering is having the right people check this out in the morning.
But before we could find out what happened, I safely escorted everyone out of 2 of our rooms to the main lobby. Thankfully they were small events with some bright people that understood what we were trying to go by asking them to leave.
Then as I enter the last room, I still see the DJ spinning his discs and some people dancing. WTF! Doesn't anybody hear the alarm? Are you all friggin' deaf? The man in charge of this anniversary bash, the 30th anniversary boy himself says "My kids paid a lot of money for this party and I'm not leaving". What a jerk.
"Sir, I'm sorry but for your safety, and that of your guests, I must ask that everyone leaves the room until we determine what has happened" I said. "Don't you hear me", came out of his piss-ass mouth next, "I'm not leaving". At this point I couldn't care less what happened to this bastard. If he was so uncaring about his friends and family that he wants them to stay inside a room with the fire alarm singing its song for almost 10 minutes now, so be it.
I knew the fire trucks would be here any minute. I'm just make sure that I bring the men down to this room first and they will kick his ass out.
Right on cue, my buddy Andy walks in the door as I meet him and his crew at the front door. Now remember, at this time we didn't know that it was only a problem from water on some wires that caused the alarm to go off. But we had already searched the property and saw no fire or smelled any smoke.
Andy's men checked the fire panel as Andy and I walked over to the anniversary boy. At this point I walked away and left Andy to drag the schmuck out of the room by his suit jacket. Jerk-face got a ripping like I've never seen Andy do.
I guess when you are threatened with being put in jail, you realize your party is really not that important.
They're gonna be pissed...
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1 comment:
I don't get around to the blogs so much anymore, its good to see you are still bitchin' like a mofo and doing well. Your story reminds me of what I posted last week on Facebook....
"So here comes Pam Paul Hesselrode at the Key's Lounge Buddy Show runnin' up to me, her eyes buggin' out like Roger Rabbit, cheeks bulging and clutching her throat. I figure that either she is jealous because I have brought a date and intends to strangle me, or else she might be choking. I quickly deduce that it must be the latter, as she has begun to turn a Smurfish blue.
"Pam, are you OK?"
She shakes her head no.
"Pam, are you choking?"
She shakes her head yes, vigorously.
'Pam, will you consent to me performing a Heimlich Maneuver, without the fear of Lawsuit or litigation should this all end badly?"
She rolled her eyes and shook her head yes.
So now I got behind her and grabbed her up good with my arms around her up under her breasts, bent her over a bit and I squeezed like all get out; I think the technical term is "Abdominal Thrusts", and I could tell that first thrust didn't do no good, so I said "Are you ready for another one Baby?" and she shook her head and I give another abdominal thrust and I could tell that didn't do any good either 'cause nice soft little Pam Paul was still hard as a bicycle tube under that blouse and I was just about to give her another good abdominal thrust when I look up to see Pam White Miller standing there (she was wearing the most gorgeous arctic cream colored fuzzy fluffy sparkly deep fluffy turtle necked top that accentuated her pixie face and magnificent fluffy bust line, and English-style ridin' pants tucked into some kinda knee boots like I never seen before, she's a real number, that Pam White Miller is) and she is looking at me all aghast like "What the hell are you doing to Pam Paul?" as though I am acting out a modern day "Rape of the Sabine Women" and I just grinned and said:
"Its not how it looks Pam, I promise"
and gave one last deep abominable thrust and *POOF* out came the Fajita Nacho Pam had swallered whole and Pam's body relaxed, began to deflate, her cute smile returned to her dimpled face, her color restored and she could breathe again.
She was back to lovely.
And that's how I came to save Pam Paul's life last night.
I was a chef for 25 years, but this was the first time i ever did a Heimlich.
Pam came to me a little later and said "Ooooh, Steve, I'm still shaking" and I winked at her and said "Me too Pam baby, I need a cigarette".
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