Las Vegas is hot. 105 degrees hot. My lilly white skin has already turned pink despite the fact that I've been indoors for the majority of my first day here. Walking outdoors from building-to-building made me think about how those little cakes would feel if we actually let Allie use her Easy-Bake oven.
Dinner last night was at a Benihana. We sat with three graying couples who had driven to Vegas from California on their motorcycles. The guy I was sitting next to was telling me about a motorcycle accident he recently had that almost killed him. He went on about cracked ribs, broken collar bones exposed tendons and a huge blood blister that caused massive infections throughout his body. "I've got a hole in my calf you can fit a golfball into," he told me.
They were nice people. Hole-in-his-calf guy told me he owned a couple of construction companies. Judging from the thousands of dollars worth of watches he and his wife were wearing his companies were doing well. I even got the feeling he was planning to buy our dinner until he asked if we were on an expense account.
After dinner we hit the main drag and took a look around a couple of the larger casinos. I'm not a gambler. I don't make enough money to enjoy being careless with it. Not to say that I haven't sat down at a blackjack table. I understand the appeal. But for me there's no thrill in winning. Gambling is always an exercise in getting pissed off at a slot machine for taking my quarters. I gamble because I'm too stubborn to leave until I've beaten the thing into coughing up my dough. That's far too hostile an approach so I'll look for other entertainment while I'm in town.
My foot hurts. That's not good considering I'll be doing a great deal of standing over the next few days. I had to perform surgery to remove a splinter that embedded itself in my heel the day before I left. No pus so far but I'm expecting it to burst forth any day now. I'll keep you posted.
I forgot to call Shannon to wish him a happy birthday. If you read my last post you know that Deb and I aren't the best with birthday greetings. I'll try to call him before I head to work today.
I don't think I'd want to bring my family here to Vegas. But there have been plenty of moments already when I wished that Deb was here. Last night, watching the big fountain in front of the Bellagio spray water in time to Pavarotti, was one of those times. I hate opera, but it was romantic and I wanted to hold Deb's hand. Instead I tried to hold the hand of the guy I was with, but I could sense he was a little uncomfortable being my surrogate.
More on Vegas later. . .