I met a gin-soaked bar room queen in Memphis

That’s a strong first line. Heard it this morning.

I was in a band once and my pal the lead singer would sing it. Believe me, I was more than glad to stand safely in back of him playing my trademark stinging lead riffs. Because had I been required to sing that I'd met a gin-soaked bar room queen in Memphis, well, it wouldn’t have been as convincing. No you didn’t, would be the reaction. You may have met a gin-soaked sophomore Feminist Studies major at O’Gara’s, but you would not have tried to take her upstairs for a ride. Whether you wanted to or not would be immaterial. It would not have happened. Correct? So what are you singing about, actually? Shouldn't you be singing, "I wish I was the kind of guy who could just once meet a gin-soaked bar room queen in Memphis? Or at least be able to pretend convincingly it had happened?"

Steve, on the other hand: here’s a guy who has successfully met gin-soaked bar room queens – definitely at O’Gara’s, probably in Memphis and all points in between.

I’ve watched it. Amazing. The way he would shiver his way out the January door, slipping and sliding the six blocks down Snelling Avenue toward the dorm, gin-soaked prize in tow, and I'm very confident there was some "upstairs" action (he lived on the 4th floor) at least fully intended.

It's the attempt that matters. "Tried" to take her upstairs for a ride. That's the boast and it's worthy. I would argue.