(No, that is not a picture of me, obviously, heheh.)
So, this is one of my favorite stories to relay about the magazine's Wendover Weekends we've done in the past.
The first year, we were at Montego Bay for most of our events. We did lube wrestling, a whipped cream bikini contest (which almost cost us replacing the carpet in the conference center) and a black-out dance party.
It was the latter that caused my heart to thump.
The black-out party was lit only by black lights. I was in my underwear in the back corner, furthest from the door, running music, as the DJ we had hired bailed on us. My setup was a laptop full of MP3s and a sound board on 2 folding tables creating a DJ booth. Most everyone was in their underwear, dancing to some new music I found out of Germany.
About an hour into the party, I had my ear in the headphones as I was trying to properly mix two songs, and my helper friend decided to snag my underwear to the ground. Not thinking, I just stepped out of them because I was focused on my music change. Someone then ran over to tell me that Montego Bay's security was heading my way to talk to me.
I realized I was standing buck naked as I looked up to see two security guards heading my way. My thoughts were "are there cameras in here? (of course there are) Can they see in this light?"
They got to the table, never looking down at my goods, looking me straight in the eye and said, "we have noticed that some of your party guests are leaving the room for the bathroom without a shirt and shoes. Nevada casino laws require shirts and shoes to be worn."
I said, "but you don't care if they aren't wearing pants?"
"Shirts and shoes are required," they said.
I laughed, told them I'd make an announcement, and they headed back out the door.
All the while, I was standing there as naked as the day I was born.
My friend who had pantsed me was laughing so hard he started choking.
I, on the other hand, knew I had a story I could tell my grandchildren.