My Wally Pryor CSB:
I was in LHB back in the mid to late 80's (trumpet), and in addition to the the volunteer gigs we had to do, every once in awhile something came up where we got paid.
I was enlisted to go play the "call to the post" at some charity "Kentucky Derby" fake gambling party at the Austin Country Club. It paid $100 plus food and booze and that was a lot of money for a college student back then, so I took the gig.
So I wrangled up a tux and complimented it with my LHB colonel Sanders clip on for the chef's kiss.
My only job was to go around the club and play the call to the post for about the first 45 minutes of the event while the guest were arriving and mingling.
I got fed before the event along with the staff, but I was allowed to eat at the guest tables, I guess because I was wearing a tux. Before I knew it, I had a fresh mint julip in my hand and they just kept coming.
So when the time came, I went and did my job hammered on mint julips. The only problem was is that I wanted to keep drinking, and the only way to do that was to keep playing... and I did as only a desperate college student could. So eventually, they asked me to stop, and me and the remnants of my last mint julip were escorted out of the ball room to the back patio.
There sitting on the couch all alone was an equally hammered Wally Pryor. Wally, no doubt instantly recognized my colonel Sanders clip on and with a far off bourbon drunk look in his eye shouted "heeeeeeeeey uuup" and the threw me a wobbly hook 'em.
Seeing I had made a new friend, I grabbed a chair opposite Wally and responded "Is there a way a guy can get a drink around here?"
Seeing a kindred spirit, Wally obliged and we sat out there until dark bull shitting and drinking.
Wally had to go when a couple of his handlers came out and cut him off because he apparently had a habit of getting over served at these type of things when he had an audience.
The same gig came up a year later, but for some reason I was not selected.