At the Conference: Heather's Social Experiment

Much of the same on Wednesday. General session, in the morning. I visited the Expo again for some CEU opportunities (and any ink pens I might have missed). Went to a class or two.


One thing I learned is that at these conferences, the name of the game is finding out who's going to buy your dinner that night. Almost every vendor booth I stopped by, one rep was talking about which clients (i.e. the nurses) they had to take out that night.


Someone in our group had made arrangements with one rep to take our group out to dinner. The rep worked the KC area, so some were already familiar with him. So, after all the classes were over and done, and I managed to squeeze a nap in, our group hoofed it to a steakhouse nearby. Roughly twenty people in our party.


About a half dozen of us sat at one end of an extremely long table. Everyone started out with mixed drinks, and someone ordered someone else a shot. It snowballed from there. Then, I had an epiphany.


How many shots will it take to incapacitate a bunch of ICU nurses? Let's find out!!

Because I designated myself ringleader, I kept order rounds of shots. No sooner did my subjects down one shot, I had another round delivered. Various shots from the spicy to the fruity. All in all, I'd say I probably ordered ten rounds or so.

Did I mention that this is all at the expense of the drug rep who's buying the dinner? He didn't seem too concerned, after all, he ended up joining in the fray.

Before too long, I've got me a gaggle of drunk nurses, all staggering to the bathroom at some point or another, cursing me the entire way.

Wrapping things up, everyone decides it's a fine idea to head back to the convention center to catch the concert. Drug rep gets the final bill and blanches. We rocked it around $1200. I'm going to guess that's never seen one that high. No one seems too concerned, considering the amount of equipment that our hospital buys from his company probably goes into the millions.

So, everyone staggers back to the convention center. I'm gimping, but still stone sober. The other nurses curse my father's alcoholic genes as I am the only one who has the ability to walk in a straight line.

Oh joy!! KC and the Sunshine Band is the featured performer. I can't work up the enthusiasm that the older nurses exhibit. So, I sit in the chair, watching in abject horror. The lead singer has a big beer gut and the widest ass on a man I have ever seen. He's sweating profusely in his sequined shirt, and trying hard to be sexy. I vomit in my mouth a little. It isn't too long before someone tosses a pair of white granny panties on the stage. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

At one point, Lead Guy (KC?) says, "I'm going to take you back to 1980."

"I was five." I say dryly to the drug rep, who surprisingly, is still speaking to me.

"I was three" he replies.

After about twenty or so minutes, I decide to go back to the hotel. A couple of the younger girls follow suit, as we as my most toasted subject, who is 51...but doesn't look a day over 40.

Me: Next year, they are going to have Meatloaf.

Drunk Nurse: Really!?!

Me: No...not really. I just said that to be an asshole.

Drunk Nurse: I've noticed that you're REALLY good at that.

Me: Why, thank you!

Drunk Nurse: You should come work on my floor!

Back at the hotel, my roommate and others decide to venture out again. However, I am old and like sleep a whole lot, and decide to call it a night. I take a long, hot bath and go to bed. I already know that tomorrow is going to be a long day.

I have to conserve my strength if I am going to find that MARTA worker and beat her ass.