Greg is a a technician in a Manhattan hospital emergency room that sees over 150 patients on each of his shifts. He tells people to "just relax and trust me because you're in good hands and I'm gong to take care of you" while many of them are bleeding and frightened. So I told Greg to "just relax and trust me because you're in good hands and I'm gong to take care of you" while he was bleeding and frightened from a tax mauling. Like most of his patients, he found it almost impossible to relax and trust me. Thick New York accent. I can't tell the difference between accents from Queens or The Bronx or The Lords of Flatbush or Upstate or The Yankees or The Mets or The Giants or The Jets or The Islanders. He probably got a kick out of my Texxizz drawl.

I had to prepare four tax returns and convince one of my IRS reps that this was an emergency for an emergency room tech or we might lose him on the operating table. The IRS rep worked with me to stop the bleeding and get him bandaged up and released from our care.

I met the Friday deadline and saved the patient's paycheck. Sent him home to heal with a prescription for a nice treat that I just knew he would not be able to take. That's a dinner at Fort Worth's best and most famous Mexican food restaurant - Joe T Garcia's - accompanied with a pitcher of their delicious margaritas. Sorry, but he lived too far away to go there, so I had to take my wife there in his place. We toasted him with our salt-on-the-rim-clear-plastic-cups with the Joe T Garcia's logo on them (cheap but unbreakable). They don't even have a menu. It's pretty much "Regular Dinner" or "Small Dinner". Best Mexican hot sauce in the the state; they even sell it in stores. Sorry you couldn't make it, Greg. It sure was a nice dinner.