In 1985, my dad visited our Las Vegas home while traveling on business. He animatedly told the story of his plane trip, which included numerous cocktails; a phenomenon not uncommon on Vegas-bound flights. Return flights are typically quieter.

He informed us refreshments were free of charge, courtesy of state officials returning from a conference. They bought his drinks, citing taxpayer generosity.

I experienced some moral outrage. First, in younger years I may have been offered ostensibly free bar spirits, but no one ever bought me a drink on an airplane. Second, I was a taxpayer.

Due to casino income from luckless out-of-towners, Nevada has no state income tax. However, residents pay personal/real property and sales tax, proving even recession-proof visiting gamblers can't entirely eliminate taxation. Only death does that. Well, after estate taxes.

I probed my dad for details. He couldn't recall names or positions, but assured me repeatedly the party animals identified themselves as Nevada government office-holders. I ticked off names of various bureaucrats who regularly made the news and not in a good way. He thought one or two names sounded familiar.

In the meantime, the Good-Time Charlie anecdote and my ire expanded. Now the wayward public servants bought everyone on board cocktails. I vaguely recollect additional stories of their conference exploits, involving alcohol, money-spending and possibly female companionship.

A few days later, I wrote an inquiry to then-Nevada Governor Richard Bryan, reportedly a straight shooter. A reply from the Governor's office indicated he ordered a travel audit and nothing seemed irregular. In fact, no government representative, staff member, civil servant, contractor or distant relative had been on that flight or even in that region.

Then the obvious hit me; my dad was just telling a Story. Even he was incredulous I acted, presuming veracity. In later versions, the officials were from Louisiana on the way to Las Vegas for a conference.

In the end, my naiveté became future Story material, which I believe ended with me soaking Nevada taxpayers for frivolous internal investigation expenses.

My dad survived abdominal aortic aneurysm surgery today. I'm looking forward to more Stories, but won't necessarily fall for them.

Happy Father's Day, June 15, to Dads everywhere, especially mine. Kids don't expect you to be perfect, because we sure aren't.