The Fred Meyer Incident

Last nite saw the last of the xmas parties at the hotel. They were never too big of a deal except for the one last week that was close to leaving the place in ashes. The only bad thing that happened was the fact that none of the groups decided to send a plate or two out front for the employees. Season of giving my Ashtabula. I do recall one christmas party several years ago that was one for the books. Or in this case, one for the blog.

It was a typical December day in Oregon, cold and rainy. Things hadn't been going too smoothly in my personal life so having finished with work and I was pissin' and moanin' to my friend Karen about the lousy little ..... when Marie Hall walked by. "Hey Marie, you headed downtown? Can you give me a ride?" So a few minutes later I find myself down at Stuffs drinking whatever my flavor of the day was. Howie joined in and after a while we were both overcome with the urge for a shot or two of Bourbon. So we ducked across the alley to the Grub Street Grill, ordered ourselves a beer, he got some Jack and I got some Jim. Well the funds started running short so we headed back to Stuffs and raided the cooler. "Hey Howie, I know where we can go for a few cheap drinks." So we walked over to the Red Lion where the Fred Meyer party was going on.

Now by this time I was already feeling a little more than alright. Walking thru the banquet room like the Penguin, swinging my umbrella around and poking the occasional bystander. I went up to one of the bars, ordered a couple of shots and when the bartender turned his back I reached over and grabbed a bottle. I went and sat at a table with Howie, my supervisor and coworkers and we passed the bottle around until an irate bartender came to lay claim to his bottle. So I went to the bar at the other end of the room. If it worked once why not twice. So after yet another bottle circling our table I felt it was time for a stroll. More shenanigans ensued and the powers that be decided it would be best that I leave. Had they just come out and told me I should go I might have, but instead they said that I could stay but my friend would have to go. Apparently they thought I would say "well if he's going so am I." Neither of us did, that is until Howie sensed something was about to happen.

At this point I must say two things. First I am not condoning my actions, and second, the story is a whole lot funnier as told by Howie, acted out in person.

For whatever reason I got into a shoving match with the second in command of our store. Then the number one boss came to break it up. You've heard of bad to worse? Here it comes. Now I'm not a very big guy. 5'6" and at that time 140. The boss, Mike, was built like a shorter version of Mike Ditka. Somehow I managed to get him in a headlock and proceeded to administer as many upper cuts as I could before others jumped in. By this time Howie is out in the parking lot when he sees the doors swing open and four guys, one holding me by each limb, toss me out into the parking lot. As Howie worded it "it was the funniest thing. you landed on your butt, stood up, looked at me, dusted your butt off, turned around, lowered your head and ran right back in." It was at this time that he split and the police showed up.

Well, the next morning I was given some toast and jam along with some orange juice and cut loose. Now heres the real kicker to the story. I called the boss to apologize and he asked me, are you ready for this, when I was going to come back to work. I graciously declined saying that I had some personal demons that I had to exorcise. I may still be wrestling with them, but at least I'm still in the battle. (yes I meant battle and not bottle). And here we have a photo of the actual scene of the crime