Can’t Lose for Winning

CITY OF CHAMPIONS – Let me offer a thesaurus free counter point to Shallan’s Las Vegas blog entry (read this 1st)

Some (many?) of you don’t know me, and for that, you should be grateful. Because if you did know me you might end up in Vegas with me and such a trip could leave you bloody, broke, and battered.

Las Vegas is an astonishing place where everything you’ve ever known about common decency and self control are thrown out the window. Everywhere you turn there is temptation and excitement. But like all of the tricks at the $89.50 magic shows at the $350 per night hotels on the strip, it is all an illusion.

Vegas is indeed a time warp and it is full of toys, but this escape from reality is merely a diversion from how this wondrous city is affecting you and your life. Going to Vegas is like walking out the front door of your house and bending over to see a beautiful flower blossoming from a crack in the cement sidewalk, only to turn around and see your previously exquisite home exploding with flames and smoke. The bright lights, beautiful people, and brushes with celebrities are diverting your attention from your plummeting bank account balance, alarming blood alcohol content, and the potentially permanent damage you are inflicting on your vital organs due to days of endless substance abuse.

In Vegas you don’t sleep, you don’t exercise, and you don’t eat (save one buffet full of prison food that you are only consuming because they have free champagne and you should probably eat “something” since it has been almost 60 hours since you ate the pretzels on your flight in). In Vegas you test your body’s limits and your mind’s sanity. It isn’t a harmless test like a pub crawl or vice war where the worst case scenario is waking up next to someone who looks they ran a 100 yard dash in a 90 yard room. Every step you take in Vegas threatens you with life altering situations and lifestyle affecting decisions. People often tell stories of their entire plane erupting in applause when the plane touches down in Vegas because of the energy on the plane for what lies ahead, I believe people should cheer when their plane takes off from Vegas because no matter how your body is damaged or mind decayed, at least you are alive and returning to normalcy.

If nothing else I have said sticks with you, here is a little story from my weekend in Vegas. Yesterday morning, my flight was scheduled for a 7:00 am departure. After arriving at the airport at 5:45 cheery and smiling (read still drunk) I checked my luggage including my blue guitar (another, different Vegas story). I joked with the airline employee about how I am a famous musician and she happily participated in our banter mocking enthusiasm for meeting a “celebrity.” Then I walked to the airport security line where things suddenly changed. My palms started to sweat, my legs started to shake, and my body temperature somehow simultaneously plummeted and skyrocketed. As one not unfamiliar with the aftermath of a rough night of drinking, I knew what was going to happen next. Unfortunately, it was the airport security line and there was no bathroom to be found. So I closed my eyes and prayed: “Please god, do not let me throw up all over myself, my friend, and all of these families around me. I know I have does this to myself, but please forgive me for abusing my body and ignoring your teachings this entire weekend. Please let me survive this endless snaking line and fight off the vomit sloshing around in my stomach and fighting to come out.” In some sick, divine quid pro quo, I did not throw up, I made it through the security line, but basically had to sprint to a bathroom to relieve not only my need to vomit but other bodily needs that arose seemingly right as I slumped through the metal detector. So I moved as fast as I could (read really slow) to the bathroom where I spent the next half hour putting on my own personal, disgusting fourth of July show. Multiple people who came through the stalls next to me said multiple times: “Oh my god!” and “are you okay?” I barely made my flight, but thanks to the ridiculous seating system on southwest airlines I got on the plane first. I took a window seat near the front of the plane and immediately passed out. I woke up when the flight attendant made the pre-flight announcements and was shocked to see I had a row to myself–the waiting area looked so full. Turns out every other seat on the plane, save the two next to me, was full–nobody wanted to sit next to someone in my condition. I smiled only for a second before feeling the vomit stirring again and immediately went back to sleep.

So to sum up, anybody want to schedule another Vegas trip?

CITY OF CHAMPIONS – Considering some members of our kickball team have never paid homage to the city of living dreams, and may be casting serious doubt over the prospect, due to the apparent aftermath of such an excursion, evidenced by the state of several individuals last night, I offer the following in defense of the glittering palisades of southern nevada…

Hunter Thompson describes Las Vegas like this… “There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning.”

Michael Herr said… “It’s a corny old gag about Las Vegas, the emporal city if there ever was one, trying to camouflage the hours and retard the dawn, when everybody knows that if you’re feeling lucky you’re really feeling time in its rawest form, and if you’re not feeling lucky, they’ve got a clock at the bus station.”

For a twenty-something from Boston, it’s a giant playground. The awe some felt at age 7, waddling around Disney World and happening upon a life-size Mickey Mouse, is mirrored in a way-too-realistic Elvis-siting or casual celebrity encounter.

I once was on my way to a meeting in Cambridge, Friday morning, and was running about 15 minutes late (hard to believe, I know), until I realized that the meeting had been pushed back one hour, so I had some time to kill. I sent a text to some friends who were just starting their three-day weekend in the City of Lights, …living vicariously was my intent.

Seconds later, my phone rings. I answer, but there’s a flood of bells, and whistles, and white noise on the other end. Finally, a man’s voice, that I almost recognize, yells into my friend Jessica’s phone… “Hello?”. I yell back “Yes? Hello? Who is this?”. The person in possession of my friend’s phone seems to find a quieter corner of whatever place he’s at and asks “Is this Shannon?” There’s some more indiscernable chatter, then…”Oh, Shallan? Is this Shallan?”.

I reply “Yes.” Not a little confused.

“This is Matt McConnaughey, I’m hanging out with your friends at ESPN Zone, in town promoting my new movie Sahara, why aren’t you here?”

My first instinct, of course, is to call out “Shenanigans!”. I think, is it Jimmy? Andrew? Any of the other pranksters Jess is used to hanging out with? Could it just be a random, with a dead-on impression? Then I remember I was once at the same table as Vince Vaughan in Bellagio’s Light, and I saw Wilmer Valderama lose an unhealthy sum of chips at a craps table in MGM, swearing it wasn’t his money. Finally, I accept the fact that I’m on the phone with a movie star because, well…my friends are in Vegas, and anything is possible. A desperately uninteresting conversation follows, further solidifying that I was talking to the real thing, then we telephonically part ways.

No one lives in Vegas. You’re in a time warp. It’s a great big waiting room with lots of toys. For those of us who have to work for a living, it is a vacationland where one minute past 72 hours, and you’ve over-stayed your welcome.

The air you breathe is charged with electricity, bulging your eyes so you can take everything in. When your chip stacks are tall, you sense magic in your hands. When they’re low, the twinkle in your eye promises fortune at the next turn.

It’s like when you’re lined up at the beirut table, pong ball in hand, fate of your team rested squarely upon your shoulders, and you with the knowledge that no matter what happens, it’s going in.

The previous tirade might be a little heady for an early morning, and for that, I apologize. The point of the relation was to not let anyone scare you from possibly the greatest trip you’ll ever take. (Best to travel in numbers…more likely to be able to piece together events).

Viva Las Vegas!!!