What happens in Vegas...

The last time I visited Las Vegas it was 1993 and I was there for a bachelor party. My roommate and I drove out, leaving on a Friday afternoon and arriving at 6am the next day. We had just enough time to grab a quick nap before going on a 24 hour bender that left us penniless and wondering which way was up. The real fun came later while we were driving home through a spring snow storm and got stuck on Vail pass. [For you kids reading this, a “bender” is a “play date” that last longer than 2 hours and doesn’t require your mommy or daddy to drop you off and pick you up.]

The bachelor festivities started with cigars and scotch at a swank club. It was then that I discovered that my roommate had never smoked a cigar in his entire life. As the cigars were being passed around, my roommate snatched the last one from my hands, ripped the end off with his teeth, and proceeded to smoke it like a cheap cigarette. Knowing what would inevitably happen to him if he kept smoking that way; I happily sipped my scotch while I waited for karma to show up. After a few long draws on the cigar he quickly turned dark green - a shade somewhat similar to Kermit the frog. Holding a hand over his mouth, he made a mad dash for the restroom, but only made it to the door before he released his breakfast, lunch, and dinner. [Kids “released” means he puked his guts out all over the floor.]

After some other typical bachelor party activities (bowling, riding the sky coaster, etc.) we had some breakfast in old town Vegas while we watched the sunrise. Our friend JP had long ago passed out from all the fun and we were all content that we’d given him a bachelor party that he would never forget. We also figured that his wife would never see his new tattoo… That was then, this is now.

Fifteen years later I returned to Vegas on a business trip, representing my company at a major industry conference. This time I flew in, although I did consider driving after all the bad luck I’ve had with the airlines lately. Seems I’ve been getting the middle or aisle seat in the last row, the row with the child that has an ear infection and loves to scream the entire flight. The conference was at the Venetian, probably the nicest hotel in the city. Compared to the bench seat in the RV I slept on the last time I was in Vegas, my room was spectacular! I had a view of The Strip as well as the four (yes four!) pools that are part of the hotel.

I was stunned at how much Vegas had changed since I was there so long ago. I’d heard about all the new hotels, the new “Disneyland for adults”, but I’d never imagined just how much things had really changed. It seemed to me that Vegas had tripled in size, mostly going up, since there was a limited amount of space downtown to grow out. I wasn’t sure what to make of it all. I didn’t really have the luxury of a lot of free time to walk around and see everything, so I resigned to accept it for what it was – a giant black hole for paychecks and do my best to go home with as much money as I arrived with, minus any reasonable expenses.

Once you enter the hotel you never have to leave, which was a good thing, since it was 110 degrees outside. It was a “dry heat”, as they say in Arizona, but it was still hotter than anything I’ve seen this spring and my body was still in shape for winter – a nice layer of fat covering my rippling muscles. I vowed to stick with air conditioning all week. You can do everything within the walls of the hotel – work, shop, eat, see a show, gamble, and sleep (sleeping in Vegas is optional – that’s what coffee is for). The work was pretty easy – walk through the casino to the convention center, stand in your booth for a few hours talking to customers and competitors, walk back to your room when your shift is over. The easiest commute you could ever ask for. Shopping was easy too – there wasn’t a single shop that I could afford anything more than a “What Happens in Vegas…” t-shirt, so I didn’t do any shopping. Trivia fact: the Venetian hotel, the one with the indoor canals and gondola rides, is the largest hotel in the world (and they’re making it bigger!).

I’ve been playing poker with my buddies once a month for the last year and a half. Our regular games are pretty casual, with lots of whiskey and cigars being passed around. I’ve also played a little bit of poker in Black Hawk with reasonably good results. To say I felt out of my league in Vegas was an understatement. I’ll be the first to admit that I was pretty nervous about sitting at a poker table in Vegas, at the Venetian no less. My concerns were only amplified by the fact that the World Series of Poker was in town and every wanna-be pro was trolling the various poker rooms looking for some “fish” to eat up and spit out. Despite my nerves, I knew I couldn’t go home without at least playing a few hands, just to say I did it. Besides, my poker pals would never let me live it down if I came home and told them that I chickened out in Vegas.

When I finally did sit down to try my luck at the 1-2 No Limit Hold’em game it was my last night in Vegas. Sizing up the players at the table, they all seemed pretty reasonable poker players – nobody was playing crazy cards like 3-4 off-suite or chasing a four flush with an Ace. The dealer welcomed me to the table, exchanged my lunch money for a relatively small stack of chips, and dealt me in to the next hand. It was almost ten o’clock and I was about to play the longest, most exciting poker game in my life… [to be continued]