When you first meet her, she welcomes you with all the warmth of a neighbor at your doorstep with a fresh baked dish of apple pie in her grasp and an invitation to the next block party. She sparkles with personality and and lulls you with promises of adventure and excitement and, initially, she doesn't disappoint.
But then you begin to notice the cracks in the makeup, the cheap mascara that's been layered on day after day, the tear in the stocking and the dress with a three day old stain. She shrugs off your disappointment like a cheap coat while daring you to walk away, knowing that you're helpless and hooked.
Las Vegas.
As my plane descended into McCarron, those of us onboard were treated to a bit of nature's glitter as the sky in the distance danced with lightening in competition with the man-made glitz of Las Vegas Boulevard coming into view below. I recalled the bubbling excitement of my first visit to this town a mere year and a half ago. All I knew of the town then had been gleaned from the Travel Channel, various blogs and fictionalized versions from the movies and TV. I was wide-eyed and eager, straining in my seat to peer out the window as we landed.
Four trips later, I sat, complacent, and watched the lightning in the distance as other passengers around me strained in their seats to catch a glimpse of the strip from the window. I wasn't excited to see the city, that is not until I stepped off the shuttle and walked through the doors of the Excalibur.
Sense memory kicked in when I was assaulted by the sounds, the smells and the hustle of people everywhere . It was the middle of the night and the city was fully awake and alive.
My anticipation heightened and a smile snuck its way to the corner of my mouth. As I wheeled my bag through the slots, I caught sight of the sign for the Sherwood Forest Bar over the top of the machines. I rounded a corner and ran smack into the middle of a bunch of familiar faces and a immediate hug from the SoCo teddy bear himself.
I was glad to be there.
After frantic greetings, I checked in and rushed up to my tiny little room with a view ('cause it had a window) to unpack. A bit refreshed, and feeling my second wind, I landed back at the Sherwood Forest bar to a slightly bigger group than I'd left moments before. Like a sponge, the entourage was swelling as one by one, more excited souls joined the fray.
"Otis called from the Rio, he's on his way."
I turned around to a big hug from Eva.
"Iggy's at the monorail and just figured out it's not free."
A distinctly Australian accent caught my attention and I stuck my hand out to introduce myself to Garth and received a big hug instead. Moments later Derek wrapped me in another big hug and asked permission to grope my derrier.
It was Vegas, what do you think I replied?
Cameras were snapping photos, shots of SoCo were being passed around and the bartenders were kicking into high gear.
That first night was a blur. I know there was some poker, vodka-crans, people, old friends, new friends. The details, however, were lost somewhere in the bottom of a cocktail glass. I believe my head hit the pillow around 5 am - putting me at a full 24 hours sans sleep.
Par.
For five days, my longest visit thus far, I set poker aside (mostly) and made a point of spending as much time with people as I could.
Somewhere in there, I paid for the priviledge of busting out mid-field in the WSOP Ladies Event. Eventually I may get around to posting the experience - but I must mention that a definate highlight was having a post-mortem chat with Double-As a day later.
Other choice experiences were sitting with Grubby in the sportsbook at the MGM getting the scoop on his new job; having breakfast with the the Heads at Bouchon in the Venetian prior to the WPBT tourney; talking with Eva at the bar after the WPBT tourney; meeting the Lord Admiral guys - Brent and Stacks; Pai-Gow and roulette; hanging at the Hooker Bar at the Rio with Dan, Scott, Jason, Rachel, Otis, Pauly, Wil, Iggy and G-Money - who did I forget?
Meeting Curzdog at the Outback with Double As, et al and just being a fly on the wall. Having lunch with Gracie (or was it dinner? breakfast?).
Lunch with Linda - oh so special - and later listening to her stories while I gleefully let her suck out on me with her pocket fives at Caesars. Well worth the price of admission, lady.
Three-thirty A.M., the morning of my departure, I was sitting on a bench outside the Excal, waiting for my shuttle to the airport when I heard an odd sound. Crickets. I could hear crickets chirping. It didn't fit - after five days immersed in the sounds of the casinos (which can become maddening if you let them sink too deep into you consciousness), listening to the crickets now brought an unexpected peace to my time there on the bench.
A figure emerged from the automatic doors at the rotunda. She was long-legged, sadly young and clad in the uniform of a Vegas "working girl" - spiked heels and short skirt. Her gait bore the weariness of a short life spent too long on the edge. She sat a moment at another bench while she phoned for her pick-up, then rose and slowly walked off into the night - a stinging reminder that this town is a rose with very sharp thorns.
I was glad to be leaving and felt fortunate I was taking a bankroll of great memories with me. My plane took off shortly after sunrise, a tired city below me, repainting her plastic smile, rubbing at the stain on her dress, and preparing to welcome the next round new arrivals to the neighborhood.
