The Fish In His Bowl

"Always in a hurry, I never stop to worry, Don't you see the time flashin' by. Honey, got no money, I'm all sixes and sevens and nines. Say now, baby, I'm the rank outsider, You can be my partner in crime." The Rolling Stones from "Tumbling Dice"

The nurse is due for a vacation, which means I have to listen to her hem and haw over a destination for weeks. I run down the list in my mind before I ask her where she is going. But to my utter bewilderment she informed me that the choice was made. She was heading off to Bugsy's oasis in the desert. The nurse in Las Vegas. Perfect fit. Like a sock in a shoe. Blinking lights, fast flowing booze, and morals looser than a down town slot machine make for absolute nirvana in Nevada. Hearing that she was going to Sin City got me thinking of my own adventures in the Jewel of the Mojave.

The best statement I ever heard in regards to myself and my relationship with Las Vegas came from my brother whilst we were there to attend our sisters nuptials. He said, as he looked disappointingly across the room at SuperMom staggering towards us with a foot long margarita in one hand and a champagne flute in the other, he said "Las Vegas changes everyones personalities except yours. Most people come here and for them it's wild abandon, but you're like a fish that's been put back in your bowl." I don't know if he meant that my normalcy is wild abandon, or that I'm just so in tune with the glitz and gleam of the town that I get it on a different level. Either way, I loved the fish in the bowl thing.

Unlike some I never went to Las Vegas as a child. It wasn't proper in my family, at that time, to take children to a place called Sin City. I had to wait until I was 21. Then circumstances being what they were I didn't get a chance to go for a while. Then it finally happened. I rounded that little hill on Interstate 15 and got my first glimpse of the city that would become an escape for me. I had no idea at the time how many stories I would tell that started with "This one time in Vegas". It was better than band camp, cause here the cocktail waitresses (as sure a weakness to me as Kryptonite is to Superman) they weren't upset if you ogle them, I'm sure it bothers them, but it's Vegas Baby. There is no last call for alcohol, you want to drink until the sun comes up, fine with them, just make sure you do some gambling while you're at it. And then there's comps. Those things are like crack. Get one, and soon you'll be jonesing for more.

One of my favorite tales from Lost Wages is that of my sisters wedding. See, there is a stigma attached to the Vegas wedding. Like it doesn't really count, it's a lark. But when it's planned out, well it can be delightfully tacky. My sister got married in the courtyard of the Bellagio in front of the water show. She was set to arrive via limousine, so my brother and I were waiting there for her arrival, the arrival of her guests, and sadly, the arrival of my sperm donor who I had not seen in nearly 15 years. It was a streak that I was none to happy to see coming to an end, but all good things must end. To soften the blow, my dear brother, bought us a round of cocktails, a martini for him, beer and a shot of Bushmills for me. Price tag $33. It took all those involved a little longer to arrive than expected so I went in and secured round 2. As we stood in front of the monstrosity of glitz checking out the bevy of ladies in "little black dresses" (yet another weakness) the sperm donor arrived. I didn't even recognize him and my brother had to point him out. He looked old, much older than I would have thought, it saddened me to think of what his lonely life must be like, but he earned it. In an effort to soothe the bitter feelings, the old man went in with my brother to procure round 3. Adding his own cocktail to the mix was certain to put the tap near 50 bucks, and that kind of made me smile. He was buying the booze that I was drinking in order to deal with his arrival.

The wedding went off fine. No problems, no bitter words, I avoided anything but the smallest of talk. Then as we headed back to my brothers suite, cause that's how he rolls, the sperm donor said he would join the reception after going back to check on wife number 6, who was ill and didn't join in for the ceremony. He never showed. Nothing but class.

Even that little torturous moment can't stop me from remembering Vegas as a great place. There are stories, many stories, and I might get to telling a few more, but as the ad says "What happens here, stays here." So, some stories are only for those that were present.

Ever been to Sin City? Got any stories to share? Favorite spots?

Dixie Cup of Love: My brother for getting round 1.