Pretty good night at work.

When I was cooking in a bar on graveyard shift a few years back, David Hasselhoff came in. He proceeded to play blackjack, got piss drunk, passed out in his chicken wings, then wrote the number for his personal driver on a napkin and asked me to call them to come get him. Two big guys walked in, picked the Hoff up by the back of his pants, with his arms around their shoulders and dragged him outside to a waiting car. As they left, the Hoff stopped them, reached into his sock and threw $200 on the bar. Pretty good night at work.