Back in the early nineties I was in Dallas for a trade show. A buddy and I were heading up to our rooms on the elevator, discussing the worm (AKA Denis Rodman) in not terribly complimentary terms (the Spurs were in town for a playoff game)/ There was a third party in the elevator, a woman we didn't know. The elevator stops on the third floor and guess who walks on. That's right, the worm himself and a huge brother. Naturally all conversation ceased, and I was crapping down both legs thinking this lady has my life in her hands. She probably had no idea who he was. The worm and his buddy got off on the 7th floor, I went to the 8th and my buddy and I never discussed it again.
