To subdue my keyed-up minions, I suggested a cook-off competition for anyone interested and divvied workers into teams and a panel of judges. “The first challenge? Invent a new frozen yogurt flavor using only ingredients available at any of the food stalls,” I said. Teams set to work crumbling fortune cookies from Wok ’Dis Way and experimenting with a less-than-promising barbecue-chocolate flavor combo. This was going to create even more of a mess than we’d already managed, but c’est la vie. While I cast a weary eye over my surroundings, I felt the faintest urge, one that sent shivers of dread down my spine: I needed to pee. I mentally commanded my bladder to stand down, having no other option at present. “Dude, we would have killed it tonight,” Chad said, banging his hand against the wall Caleb was leaning against. “You would have totally blown minds with your sweep picking.” “Sold out show, too.
