When I travel, let's just say half the time I have armed body guards. When I went to Odessa, Ukraine, to help feed the orphanages a BBQ meal, I got in a little over my head. After all that hard work of preparing the site for the BBQ feed and cooking the BBQ, enough for 2000 Ukrainians, the cowboys and I were dog gone tired and wanted to relax. But, seeing how all the caberates were closed because of Sunday, I did everything in my power to give the cowboys and Ukrainian goverment what they wanted. So, on that rainy Sunday night, I got into an itty bitty smart car with a KGB and interpreteur and we drove to the brothels to pick out some pretty girls to dance for the cowboys and Ukrainian government. It was like selecting cattle. I felt bad about it but I had a mission, to please everyone. I made the prostitutes stand up and twirl around so I could select the best ones. I chose about 7 of them but before I could take them, back to the boat where we were staying, I had to pay the house mom a fine fee. The KGB loaded us all back into the car and we drove back, packed like sardines. When we arrived, I made all the cowboys pay me $100 each to go up to the bar where, the Ukrainian government was hosting for us a real big shin dig of a caviar and vodka thank you party. The girls were the icing on top of the shin dig. But, remember they're prostitutes. They don't dance for a buck they @#$%^&* for a buck. So, I had to pull them aside and show them how to dance and nothing more. The cowboys and Ukrainian government had a blast. We gourged on mountains of Beluga caviar, all kinds of vodkas, and enjoyed entertainment catered specifically for them. I made so much money that night and had all the wives pissed at me. But all the men thanked me for such an exciting, well organized party. The next morning, the mafia was waiting for me outside of the boat. My interpreteur said I was in great danger and instructed not to leave the boat for my own safety. But, little did she know that you can't scare cowboys that easily. We're from Texas. By the time your five years old, you've handled a gun or two. The cowboys said not to worry and just laughed at them and we went on our mary little way.