I WAS THERE WHEN IT HAPPENED ( AND SO I OUGHT TO KNOW )

We must have seemed like madmen, standing on the corner with a huge bottle of Jameson and a busted up accordion, waving a ragged ten dollar bill at passing cars in the steadily brightening flood of morning light. We looked like worn fools in need of an angel. Some kind of savior singing the blues. Hell, we really just needed a ride and a place to lay down. The hours beforehand were devastatingly funny and we were still reeling from the music, liquor, and the general hysteria of the evening's outrageously bizarre turn of events. And when I say bizarre, my friend, you really have no idea. There was a strangeness and hilarity to the whole night that would be impossible to quantify with words. And the ensuing hours would only get WEIRDER.
You know what's better than one room in an ancient and gorgeous hotel in a small Victorian mountain town with nine of your friends? THREE rooms on the fourth floor of that very same hotel for the price of one, courtesy of a credit card behind the old fashion locks and a little bit of intoxicated engenuity. The old door man made a fatal mistake when he mentioned that we were the only folks staying on that floor, and the jacuzzi suite and king size beds soon became ours for the taking. The Christ of the Ozarks watched every step we made. No one was harmed. Nothing was destroyed. And it sure beat the hell out of sleeping on the floor.