If you missed previous segments of the CMEslinger saga, you can read them here:

• Part 1
• Part 2

And now, our latest segment:

Part 3 (Scott)

As always, the man in black had taken a seat in the far corner of Café Gilead facing the front door.

“You’ve been watching too many movies,” the CMEslinger said as he slid into the vinyl upholstered booth. “What, you think that one of your exes is going to walk through that door with an eye for some vengeance? On second thought, I’ve met all three of your exes. Probably wise to be careful.”

“OK there, wise guy,” retorted the man in black. “Go ahead and gloat all you want. I can take it, especially from someone who looks like he just went through a car wash with the windows down. Good God, man – people warned me, but you really do look like hell.”

“Enough with the pleasantries,” the CMEslinger said. “What’s going on with TAXIE and Marge?”

The man in black proceeded to recount his actions of the last 3 days since he received the panicked call from TAXIE’s vice president of education concerning Marge’s disappearance and the organization’s dire straits regarding their upcoming accreditation review. He told the CMEslinger about the frantic calls to Marge’s sister in North Carolina, her daughter in Sweden, and her best friend in Maryland. He explained how he drove the 4 hours from his beach shack in Wildwood Crest, NJ, to TAXIE’s headquarters outside Washington DC, spending hours with the team there replaying Marge’s actions on the day she disappeared. There was a call to the ACCME, another one to the AANP, and even one to the ANCC. The man in black had even checked in with the tournament director of the U.S. Boggle Championship — Marge was a three-time national champion – to see if she was at some sort of international tournament.

No one had heard a peep from Marge in 5 days.

“So she’s not with her family,” the CMEslinger said.

“Nope.”

“And she’s not onsite at a CME event.”

“You’re catching on.”

“And she’s not on one of her accreditation jaunts or at some other special event.”

“Not that I’ve been able to figure out.”

“So that can only mean one thing. She’s helping someone who is in a whole heap of accreditation trouble.”

“Bingo, my friend. Just like 13 years ago.”

And with those words, the CMEslinger and the man in black were transported back in time to the last episode when Marge vanished. Thirteen years ago, on a random week in April, Marge had simply—poof—disappeared from the TAXIE offices for 4 days without a word. There was a similar panic until, like magic, Marge simply was back at her desk one morning as if nothing had happened. Upon questioning, Marge explained that one of her accreditation friends had made a major blunder in her interpretation of ACCME Standard 3.5 and needed some round-the-clock help to rectify the situation and alert learners retroactively to the relevant disclosures of one of her organization’s recent presenters.

“He called me to help him out of a jam,” Marge said. “What was I going to do, say no? We’ve been friends for decades.”

“But why didn’t you tell anyone where you were?” her officemates asked.

“What are you, my mother?” Marge responded. “I’m a big girl. I can do what I want and go where I want. Stop being such a busybody.”

And that was that. Until now.

“OK,” the CMEslinger postured, taking a sip of his black coffee. “So someone close to Marge, someone she wouldn’t dare let down, is in crisis. But who? And why now?”

The CMEslinger was puzzled. But as he fixed his gaze on the man in black, he wasn’t met with the same quizzical look. The man in black’s eyes were burning a hole through the cheap upholstery. He knew. The CMEslinger thought and thought and thought, before—voila—it finally dawned on him.

“Wait, you don’t think…” the CMEslinger said.

“I do. It’s the only possible solution. Why do you think I came to you in the first place? It’s certainly not because I admire your investigative skills. In your current state, you couldn’t figure out who picked up your trash this morning even if the truck was idling down the block.”

The man in black paused for a minute to let it all sink in.

“Get your coat. Let’s go see your daughter.”

For the majority of the year, I love living in the northeast section of the country. But there are times–such as this past weekend when I ended up shoveling snow four separate times, despite my weather app insisting “no, don’t worry, you’re just getting a few flurries”–when I really hate it here. Hate is a strong word, I suppose, but the snow combined with the knowledge that Scott is spending the week sunning himself in an undisclosed Caribbean paradise has me perhaps more agitated about the weather than usual. Oh, by the way, the low on Saturday in Philly is going to be 4 degrees F and it’s going to snow. Again.

As a distraction from the foul weather, I pulled together a list of CMEpalooza related reminders to share with all of you. It’s not much of a distraction, really, but it did give me something better to do than grumble about my neighbors on the corner of my block who still have not shoveled their sidewalk (I know they’re home! I saw their light on last night!).

Reminder #1: Submit a Presentation Abstract for CMEpalooza Spring. CMEpalooza Spring is coming up on April 29, and the due date for abstract submissions is on February 23 (click here for more details.) Scott and I will be wandering around the Alliance Conference next month, so feel free to check in with us if you have an idea for a presentation. If you’re talking with Scott, make sure you give him a long, inclusive description, going over each and every point in as much excruciating detail as possible. He loves that. If you’re talking with me, keep it brief and to the point, thanks.

Reminder #2: Sponsorships for CMEpalooza Spring and Fall Are Still Available
I mean, yes, they’re always available, but we still have some of the higher-level silver and gold sponsorships available, which isn’t always the case. Anyway, you can click here for more information about sponsorship opportunities.

Reminder #3: Come to My Session at the Alliance Conference
Wait, you may be asking yourself, what does this have to do with CMEpalooza? Well friend, I’ll tell you: nothing. But Scott is busy laying under a palm tree sipping his third banana daiquiri of the day (note from Scott: It’s delicious) and can’t stop me from promoting the Alliance session I am moderating, A Method to Our Madness: The Strategy Behind Grant Review, on Feb. 18 at 9:15 am in Regency 6. Mark it in your calendar now. Don’t come because I am moderating, but come because of the stellar panel who will be sharing their insights. Many are saying it will be the best session of the conference (no one is saying that, but you should still come.)

Reminder #4: Submit Your Questions for the February Edition of Ask Us Anything
You got questions? We got answers. Sometimes. Sometimes we don’t got answers so we ask our friends who do got answers or got answers better than our answers. But most of the time we got answers. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you can read the January edition of Ask Us Anything here. If you do know what I’m talking about, then you can submit your Ask Us Anything questions here.

Reminder #5: The Next Installment of The Return of the CMEslinger Comes Out Friday
As reliable as your daily newspaper arriving at your doorstep in the morning (for the three of you out there who still receive a physical daily newspaper), part 3 of The Return of the CMEslinger serial will be out first thing Friday morning. It’s Scott’s turn to write, so I haven’t seen it, yet, but if it involves the CMEslinger shoveling snow, I am going to be really annoyed (note from Scott: Get me rewrite! Now!).

If you missed Part 1 of the Return of the CMEslinger saga, you can click here to read it.

Part 2 (Derek)

The CMEslinger picked up his phone. And heard that unmistakably raspy voice on the other end.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“No, we don’t,” mumbled the CMEslinger and hung up the phone, burying his head under a mound of pillows. Unfortunately, like his sins, the ring of his phone will always find him out, no matter how many feather down pillows he tried to hide under. Not bothering to escape his entombment, he blindly sought out the ceaselessly ringing phone with his right hand until he finally located where he had tossed it on his nightstand, atop his dogeared copy of McGowan’s #SocialQI.

“Leave me alone,” the CMEslinger groaned into the phone.

“Boo hoo,” smirked the man in black. “What is going on there? Are you in a cave or something? I can barely hear you.”

The CMEslinger freed his head from its pillowed sarcophagus and rolled over onto his back.

“What?” he croaked out groggily. “What do you want? What time is it? Why are you calling me? I haven’t heard from you since I beat your as-, er, butt in Vegas.”

“Whoa,” the man in black exclaimed. “Now that I can hear you, you sound even worse. Don’t tell me you’re back on the pickletinis, again? I told you years ago that that pickle juice will give you an ungodly hangover. You never did listen to me.”

The CMEslinger let out a long sigh and struggled up into a sitting position.

“Can we not call them that—pickletinis? I like dirty martinis with a little dill brine, that’s all. Anyway, why am I talking about this…what do you want? I don’t hear or see hide or hair from you for a year and suddenly you’re calling me at some unholy time in the morning. I’ve got a splitting headache, my mouth feels like I ate a wool cardigan, and I need coffee so bad I’d even drink one from a Keurig. You have 3 seconds to start talking or I’m hanging up again. One…two…thr-“

“TAXIE is going to lose their accreditation!” the man in black blurted into the phone.

The CMEslinger’s jaw dropped open as he stared at his phone for several moments.

“Hold on, that’s not possible. Say that again.”

The man in black growled, “TAXIE, The Academy for eXcellence In Education, the company that gave two losers like you and me a career, the company where we learned at the feet of Phinneas, is in danger of losing their accreditation. If they do, that’s it. They are finished. Kaput. Finito.”

The CMEslinger was now fully awake, sitting at the end of the bed, feet flat on the plush bedroom carpet.

“OK, fine, but that still doesn’t make any sense. I know Phinneas is gone, but Marge is there. Marge, the Queen of Reaccreditation. Marge, who could do a reaccreditation blindfolded and with her hands tied behind her back and still get commendation. Marge, who the ACCME has on speed dial because they call her so often for consultations. How could TAXIE possibly be in danger of losing their accreditation?”

“Because, my pickletini swilling friend, Marge is missing. And the reaccreditation files are due Friday.”

The CMEslinger shot to his feet.

“Marge is missing?! You should have said that from the beginning, you monochrome baboon! We’ve got a problem!”

For the sake of Phinneas and Marge, the man in black bit his tongue and counted slowly to five in his head.

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Now pull yourself together, put on some decent clothes, and get over here so we can figure out what to do. I’m across the street at Café Gilead. I’ll buy you a decent cup of coffee if you hurry.”

“I’ll be there in five,” snapped the CMEslinger and reached for the faded Wranglers hanging on the bedpost.