I worked in the Hospitality industry for many years. Not to get off on a tangent but I was so glad I found the hotel business. I had so much fun working w/ people, both staff and guests. What a fun business to be in.

My second job in hotels was in my hometown, a small and very popular inn for the guests. I was encouraged to come on board at the little inn by my best friend because, as she said, "We have a lot more fun here than where you are." Need I say more? How much more persuasive can one be?

On of the rituals we had was once we all closed the inn up for the night, we all went out for an after-hours drink. There were generally about 8-12 of us, depending.

One place we went to, another tangent off this story, was locally known as a "dump." One night, we commandeered a long rectangular table and all sat down to our beers. Shortly after, two women started a fight at the bar. This one was vicious. We sat at our table and watched as they tumbled out of the restaurant to the outside like tumblweed tumbles. Everyone had a chuckle and returned to their beers.

Not ten minutes, the same two girls came tumbling back into the restaurant as tumbleweed tumbles!

Back to the story of my name: One night a few of us went out after work. One of the girls had passed her PhD oral exam. We were celebrating her success. Our husbands and boyfriends joined us. Since this was "an occasion," I borrowed a pair of my mother's shoes. As the evening wore on, I ordered a bottle of champagne to get to the core of the celebration.

When the champagne arrived, I decided to perform a scientific experiment. I remembered watching old, romantic movies where the very glamorous leading actress was in a sophisticated setting and drinking champagne. At one point, the man would pour champagne into her shoe (sans foot) and drink out of it.

The scientific experiment I concocted was to re-enact that scene and figure out what happens after you drink out your shoe. What do you do with the shoe? How do you get home? So, I drank out of my MOTHER'S shoe (note, not mine--& yes, it was a relatively new shoe). The champagne tasted the same, the shoe was wet and I put it back on to go home and it was Friggin' cold going home!

The next day, one of the servers with whom I worked, came into the office to settle one of his customers' tabs and called me Juicy Lucy. The name stuck and was shortened to "Juice." All my friends call me Juice. :big_grin: Take Care.