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Once a year, the bar that I worked in would close so that the employees and regulars (who had all been friends for years) would go to a charity event that involved a weekend camping trip. A group of about sixty of us would take off (mostly on motorcycles) and travel to a wooded area about an hour away.
The charity event was hosted by the local chapter of a motorcycle club and there were bands playing all weekend as well as a lot of drinking. We would arrive early in the morning, set up the tents, and the party would begin.
One member of our group who I will call Phil was normally a beer drinker when he was in the bar. This annual camping trip brought out the whiskey drinker in him, and it was not pretty. He would argue with everyone and eventually end up in a physical fight with other men in our group. One particular weekend, we had been playing combat volleyball, a more aggressive version of a regular volleyball game. Believe it or not, one of the guys sprained his ankle during play. We helped him get back to the campsite and Phil showed up. He had been arguing with the injured man earlier in the day and chose this particular moment to physically go after him. Luckily, this event also had regular security guards who broke up the fight and had Phil walk away from the campsite for awhile.
A few hours (and a few drinks) later, Phil returned to the campsite and began fighting again. It didn’t last long as he finally just passed out. We were planning to walk up to the band area and knew that we couldn’t leave Phil alone in case he woke up and caused more trouble, so a few of the guys got a good idea. They took duct tape out of their saddle bags, propped Phil against a tree, and proceeded to bind him to it. We all then left the campsite as Phil continued to snooze against the tree.
Several hours later, we could hear Phil yelling for help. My friend and I snuck over (so he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of us) just in time to see him yelling at some passing security guards. “Let me go!” he yelled. Unfortunately for him, these were two of the same security guards that had dealt with him earlier. The one looked at him and replied, “Oh, no! We remember you. You can just stay right where you are.” The guards continued on their way and Phil stayed tied up to the tree for the rest of the afternoon until the whiskey had worn off.
We didn’t hear a peep out of Phil for the rest of the weekend.
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