I'm in my room on the 14th floor, getting ready to head down to the lounge. Members have been off to dinner--those who have tried it say Memphis barbecue is unlike any other, meaning hot hot hot.
They'll return to the hotel soon and start drifting into the lounge. We'll put a rhythm section together, they'll start playing and, before the first chorus of "A Foggy Day" is done, horns will come out of cases.
Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe we'll all have a glass of ginger ale, wish each other nitey-nite and be in our beddie-beds before the sun goes down.
And maybe pigs will fly.