Vegas...

Got back late last night.

Man, what a town.

Maybe 'town' isn't quite enough.  Maybe we should think of it as its own planet.  Or maybe one busy street in the midst of what feels like a dusty, sad town.

You go out at night and every block there are four or five Mexicans (no joke) slapping these cards in their hands, trying to get your attention.  The second they do, they reach out towards you, handing you something.

If you were to take what they were offering you'd find a stack of business cards with naked women on 'em and a phone number to call.  You call that number and that girl (supposedly) shows up at your location.

Vegas.

The ground is littered with thousands of those cards.

Any takers?

Me, I couldn't imagine anything less appealing.  Can you imagine?  I can't.  What in the hell kind of lonely person would take advantage of another lonely person like that?

Call me.  Pay me. F&$K me.

What kind of city is this?

I mean, it's full of people.  Like New York full.  All these people crammed into this one little strip of bright lights and tacky signs and casinos.

We came down the first morning (6:45am 'cause for us it was 9:45am) and the slots were already going.  I couldn't believe it.  The air was alive with smoke and the music was blaring and the flashing lights promised instant wealth.

Hated most of it.

Later that night hit 'Planet Hollywood'.  Liked that a bit more 'cause it targets a slightly younger crowd so is a bit (and just a bit) less tacky.  We watched a guy play roulette for a while. Stopped 'cause the girl running the table was real cute. We talked some. I kept reminding myself her smile was inviting money not friendship.

All these women, wandering around half-dressed trading away their assets for assets.

Shot one day in the desert.  Magnificent.  Couldn't get more of contrast from the strip to the red hills and black rock of the valley of fire.

And I was thinking 'The Valley of Fire', how appropriate.

Went out again our last night.  Hit the Wynn and the Encore.  Finally a spot my wife would like. Certainly younger and much hipper.  You should see the pool area.  Hit their newest club.

XS.

Good name.

Everything about it was.  Excessive.

$30 cover.  $15 per vodka red-bull. Excessively loud music.  Excessive decor. An eighty foot high by sixty wide archway opening from the dance floor out onto the pool deck.  Like something from the movies.

Girls.  

You can't believe the girls.  All ages.  From young twenties up into vivacious forties.  Dressed to kill.  Dressed to be hunted. Dressed for their lovers.  Dressed for the...

Dudes.

You don't like most of the dudes...hovering, waiting to move in, buying drinks hoping to leverage assets with their assets.  Most of 'em can't dance, are overdressed, wearing too much cologne and trying too hard.  Some are having fun.  Most are just frontin'.

The girls smile at me and my director friend.  "Yeah, I'm a producer, he's a director..." Best pick-up line ever.  Couple times a couple girls look like they want us to come over and dance with 'em.

We love our wives though.

(truly. madly. deeply)

Would be ripping up the floor if they were there.  So we dance a bit together.  He at 6.4 and 250 lbs me at 6.1 and 215 the only thing between us and the proverbial closet door.  There's this guy (late thirties easy) with an Eminem hairstyle and burgundy leisure suit (no kidding) and a gold chain vogue-ing next to the go-go dancer platform.  He's got a ten foot radius around him. People avoiding him 'cause he's weird.  Me 'n Chris kind of like him. 

At least he's authentic.

Over there a grandpa (no kidding) is dancing his a$$ off with a young blonde.  She could be his great grand-kid.  She's loving it though.  He's not coming off dirty, just wants to dance.  People are laughing, getting a kick out of this, forgetting they'll be old someday too.

Wonder if I'll have the balls to hit a club in my early eighties.

Probably not.

If my wife was there though...

Girls on the banquettes.  Stripper poles next to 'em so they can pretend for a while.  Would they be strippers if they could?

Of course not.

There's a guy trying to move in on two girls dancing together.  He tries to slide between 'em, they shift, closing him out, he shuffles, trying again.  They rotate, locking him out.  I can see their eyes as they roll 'em at each other, "Like, get this guy off of us..."  Bouncer's watching.

I want to fight him.  Just 'cause.

Music's great.  My wife would love this.  A couple of our 'couple friends' would too. Wanna' go dancin' T&D and K&N and S&J and C&C and S&C and R&J and T&J and J&E? I'd be dancing too. Gave up my Pentecostal uptightness years back.  Repented of it.  Asked my wife to forgive me for the self-righteous prick-ness that had defined me from 14-26.  

Didn't really get over it 'till a couple years ago, up at my friend's cottage where I partied for the first time in my life.

"What?  A pastor who parties?"

Yup.

Playing catch up these days.

If only my wife was with me.

It's no fun just standing around watching.  

Couple hookers over there with two plain rich guys.  You can always spot 'em.  The dudes look like they live in an office most of the time (all pasty and pale and trying too hard in clothes they think look 'cool') and the girls look like they're trying too hard; both in looks and in their interaction with the stiffs.

Hookers walk past us.  Real gorgeous up close.  I feel sad for 'em.  Wonder how they're feeling on the inside, wonder how calloused they've become.  Wonder if they'll ever have kids.  Wonder what they'd tell 'em about what they used to do. 

There's this cocktail waitress who's so gorgeous she could be a movie star. Like stop you in your tracks, punch you in the gut, take your breath away gorgeous.

Wow.

There's the two blondes again.  They'd been smiling at us on the dance floor an hour or so ago. We didn't bite.  They'd since found two dudes who did.  Dudes can't dance.  Trying too hard.

People are lonely.

People want love.

People want to let loose and have a little fun.

People gotta' make money.  Wanna' find a mate.

I want my wife.

Gotta' bring her back here, do a little dancin'.

In Vegas.

T