Several of us were in Washington, DC, for a conference a few years back, celebrating St. Patrick's Day in a local O'Something or Other saloon near our hotel. The fellow performing on stage, who had a terrible Irish accent on some Clancy Brothers material, had a big cell phone on his belt, which he kept picking up and examining between songs. Finally, someone asked why he was so preoccupied with the damned phone. "My wife's expecting and I have to be ready to go to the hospital when she calls." This was at 11:30 at night and it was very drunk in the joint by this time. Not more than 15 minutes later, he got the call. He was stowing his guitar when someone yelled out, "Who's the lucky guy?"