When I was in my early twenties, I was fortunate enough to have a job that kept me out of the office, traveling the country and meeting a lot of interesting people. (If by traveling the country, you mean to towns with populations of fewer than 26 people, and if by interesting, you mean terrifying...)
(Aside: Once, I called my dad from a trade show I was doing in Mississippi. He asked, "what's the time difference?" and I said, "two hours and about 40 years.")
One of the trips I took was to the Soldier of Fortune convention in Las Vegas. (You may remember Soldier of Fortune from their earlier work in "Oopsie -- we let a hit man advertise in our classifieds."). As you may imagine, the attendees at this convention fit a very specific demographic (see "terrifying" above).
On the first day of the convention, I had just finished setting up my booth with the ORGANIZATION THAT DOES NOT HATE FREEDOM materials, when I heard a weird noise at the end of the aisle. I couldn't see anything, but kept hearing an odd sort of hooting sound. As the noise got closer, I realized that the source was a massive human being -- he was about six feet of solid muscle. Also, he had a long ponytail, was albino, and had Tourette's Syndrome (I could not make this up on my best day, but thank you for thinking that I could).
As he made his way down the aisle closer to me, I silently willed him to keep walking and not stop at my booth. But of course he did. And of course he was a member. And of course he had a question about his membership that he needed to ask me. After a bit of a struggle, he managed to get the question out. I took a piece of paper, wrote a phone number on it and said, "You'll need to call this number and ask for Lance (our member specialist back at HQ) and he'll be able to help you." To which he replied, "Okay, thanks. I'll be sure to call llllAAAAAAAAnnnnncCCCEEEEEEE."
I could never refer to Lance as just "Lance" again after that. From that day forward, he was llllAAAAAAAAnnnnncCCCEEEEEEE. (I'm pretty sure that's also the day I began applying to graduate schools.)
These colors don't bleed,