Soulless & Feral

What happened in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Except for the parts I’m willing to share, of course!

Vegas was, in a word, brilliant. Neither Jennie nor I had had a vacation since back in 2001 or so… not that we hadn’t taken time off, but we’d not just gone and vacationed without worrying about money, work, or responsibility. Even our mini-vacations had been somewhat conservative in nature, with the potential for overspending always on our minds. This, then was the first time in… well, ever… where we could just do whateverthefuck we wanted to do, without concern for money or time.

Well, within reason.

A brief overview of our week? Absolutely!

Friday

We left at something like 2:30 in the morning to catch a 5:30 flight out of Richmond. The roads were clear and the weather was fine, giving us a clear shot to the Richmond International Airport. Upon arrival at the airport, we were greeted by an extremely bored and friendly shuttle driver, who took us promptly to the terminal. So far, so good!

Alas, a small hitch. US Airways, our carrier to Vegas, was taking their sweet ass time getting their booths open. I’ll not go into excruciating detail, but they were quite rude. Wonder why people don’t want to fly your airline, guys? Look at yoru attendants. After dropping our bags off with the dumps, we again waited for the TSA to get their shit together and open the gate. We both expressed honest thanks that we’d not arrived the recommended 2 hours ahead of time. We finally got into the terminal around 5am, catching the flight to Charlotte. I half-napped most of the flight, so all I know is that my white noise app worked well for drowning out children!

Charlotte was pretty easy… cut across the terminals, grab a drink, get on the plane. Both Jennie and I -suspect- that the plane was delayed a bit, but we were both KTFO and only knew it through a hazy sort of sleep. Despite the initial delay, we made it to Vegas around 9:45. I didn’t have jet lag at all (great thing, that) but I did have a feeling of being outside of normal reality.

It’s not reality, it’s Vegas!

After breakfast and a quick wander (including some pre-noon alcohol) we got checked in and did the exploring thing. Drinks at the Venetian, discussion of what to do that night, and finally an awesome Drew Carey show that was a dirtier, more awesome version of Who’s Line, in which we learned that Drew hates Brad Pitt due to his apparent perfection. That, and Brad’s large penis.

Whaaat? That’s what the man said!

A bit of wandering about and fun having and we headed back to grab some sleep for the first time in two days.

Saturday

Saturday was officially “Beatles Day,” in that it was the only pre-booked event we’d arranged. Having experienced the awesomeness that was Fry’s through the lense of frustration back in Houston, I wanted to both experience it again and show Jennie the Wal-Mart of electronics stores. Thus, we monorailed it down to the end of the line and explored Fry’s, where I got my “teh sex” battery pack for my iPhone.

On the way back, we stopped at In-N-Out Burger, proclaimed by many west coasters to be the holy of holy burgers.

Lies. All lies. It was okay, but it wasn’t holy fucking shit good. West coast fail.

After heading back, we realized that we’d misread the show time. 7:00, not 7:30, so we were rushed a bit. Aside from me being a slightly angsty little bitch at one point over the time crunch and whatnot, we made it (barely) on time and grabbed our seats. Does Vegas know how to put on a crap show? Yeah, probably… but Love was damn awesome. Not what I expected, necessarily, but awesome nonetheless.

After the show and some merch shopping, we went to check out the Revolution Bar, but neither of us were feeling the crowd or the music. Thought: Beatles themed bar and club… appropriate music is hip-hop? I don’t think so. The girls dancing in 60′s-ish outfits were interesting in an Austin Powers sort of way, but eh. The crowd was “Pretentious Twentysomething,” which just isn’t my bag. Baby. *ahem*

Both of us had sore feet and whatnot, so after some fruitless wandering and a kickass cover band at Bill’s, we called it a night.

Sunday

You know what’s delicious? Indian food. You know what sucks? Overeating.

You see where I’m going with this? No? Okay. We had Indian Food for… fuck it, call it breakfast. Firstmeal. We overate. For me, I also rehydrated, making my stomach a land of bloaty pain. A stop in a slightly amusing gift shop was possible, but then we both headed back to “lay down for a bit.” Cue a 3-4 hour nap.

Somewhere in there, I booked Penn & Teller tix for the evening, though, so a stop at Ross (conveniently located next to the Riviera for all your stylish last minute needs!) and a shower and we were both ready to head out to the Rio for a late night of Penn, Teller, and Mike Jones!

Great show, with some familiar tricks and some new ones. I’ll not spoil it for anyone by telling you the specifics… only that Penn & Teller & Mike don’t know how to put on a bad show. If you’ve never been to Vegas and you only have the time or money for one show, this should be the show you see.

The rest of the night was spent trying to find a decent club (Voodoo was trying too hard to be cool and failing, the Playboy club looked… well, figure.) We finally gave up and headed back to the Riviera to do the sleep thing, which we’d done infrequently and randomly. We were like cats in our sleeping habits, more or less.

Monday

Fremont street and more wandering! Fremont was pretty cool… more like the old Vegas (from what I understand) and more accessible by far. Things were definitely cheaper down that way (we both ate dinner for $13, which is, like, a bagel on the strip) and the specials were flowing freely. Wandering was fun, the pictures were great, and the skyvision thing was cool… up until it started feeling like a City Council sponsored “good family time.” When the old white people started dancing, it was time to leave.

Alas, we rode the Deuce (bus) in… and again, it was a mistake. The Deuce was crowded and completely crap. Do not ride the Deuce unless… actually, fuck it. Don’t do it. Do drugs, have unprotected sex, stab your eyes out… but DON’T RIDE THE FUCKING DEUCE.

…I may be exaggerating. A little.

Anyway, we headed back to the room for a quick chill and then went out for the night. Alas, time flew as time tends to do, and we partied well into Tuesday morning. Which is why…

Tuesday

…at 5:00am, after an hour and a half of sleep, we were up and headed down to catch the bus to the Grand Canyon. fuck. Were I at home, I’d have kicked myself… but all responsibility and sense was left at home. An hour and a half of sleep? WHOO!

Apart from the bait and switch breakfast (hint: continental is more that a packaged danish and shit coffee) the Grand Canyon tour was badass. A nap, a quick stop at Hoover Dam for pictures and noms, a longer nap, a bleary eyed note of the Joshua tree forest on the way, another nap, a bus change, and some offroading out to the canyon.

If you’ve never been to the Grand Canyon… go. I’d always been ambivalent about seeing a bit gash in the ground, but… words fail. There’s something about looking almost a mile straight down, with noting in between you and the edge but 12 inches of rock, knowing that if you stumble you’re going to have time to think about how awesomely splatterific your death is about to be. Bad. Ass.

Back to the hotel and some more wandering… including take two at the revolution bar. This time around, Revolution was better. Not awesome, but… better.

Wednesday

Up at a real time, breakfast, shuttle to the airport. Waiting around, waiting around… flight to Atlanta.

Atlanta Airport? Sucks. Krystal Burger? Decidedly okay, in my book.

Land in Richmond. Drive back to Norfolk. Reluctantly return to real life.

***//***

So, am I happy with the trip? Absolutely! There are things we missed that will require a return trip.

1.) Star Trek experience was closed to be moved. Bummer!
2.) No Elvis Impersonator! It was on the list, but got bumped.
3.) Next time, we shall get remarried in epic fashion!
4.) No winning, though gambling was light.

Did I leave things out? Perhaps, perhaps.

Any regrets? Nope! I ate too much, had too much to drink, spent a fuckton of money, and didn’t sleep nearly enough. It was great.

Any epiphanies? Sure. I realized that I need to re-initialize my plans of world domination being rich. Having absolutely nothing to worry about except for where to eat and when to leave to be on time for the evening’s entertainment is how life ought to be lived.

I’ve got a ton of half-finished blog entries on the books, but I’m not sure I feel like finishing any of them at the moment.

Instead, I’m going to put my intention of running in the Shamrock Half Marathon in print on the internets. In fact, I’ll register RIGHT NOW.

…and done. No refunds. 13.1 miles. March 21st, 2010.

So now… time to train. I have 28 weeks in which to get my maximum mileage up from around 7 miles to the requisite 13.1 miles. I’d also like to do at LEAST 10 minute miles, because that would show an overall improvement in long distance ability without losing speed. Heck, 10 minute miles ought to be cake. I hope. Hell, how am I supposed to know? I’ve been a short distance sort of guy thus far.

Training begins on September 7th. Wish me luck!

Self-satisfaction is a fleeting, never attainable goal… at least, that’s how I view it. I suspect that I may be in the minority, though. It seems that most people are perfectly happy being where they are in life, content to tread water in their jobs and their personal knowledge. I look at those people and I wonder how they do it. For me, life is not so much a mountain with a peak as a never ending staircase, with new attainments, achievements, and goal available if one is simply willing to continue the climb. Where others see a peak, I see…. more stairs.

Stairs, stairs, stairs. It does get tiresome sometimes, I admit. Sometimes, I just want to throw my hands up and step onto a landing forever, content in what I’d perceive as my own pinnacle of mediocrity. On the other hand, I know me well enough to know that it would not last. Inevitably, I’d be looking at those stairs and wondering what I might find at the next landing. And eventually, I’d step back onto that never-ending ladder and trudge upward, feeling the sense of personal fulfillment that I will never get while treading water.

In short? I do things because I fucking can. Because deep down, I don’t believe that is anything that I can’t do, if I am willing to expend the effort to see it through.

You know what, though? I believe that of all of YOU, too. I think you all have it…. it, goaddammit, that it that took us from slinging poop and screeching to exploring space and sending pulses of electricity across the planet to say “you’re an idiot” in one of our hundreds of languages using technology that would make us gods to our ancestors. Yeah, you have it… but most of you aren’t using it.

I have my theories on why… but that’s a blog for another time.

Admittedly, I have a problem socializing with other people. Understand; I do fine when the parameters of an encounter are set… if I’m solving a problem for someone, or meeting to discuss a certain topic, or taking care of other business, I do fine… I have a context I can work with. When we’re talking about those open-ended events in I’m required to actually relate to people on a more personal level? That’s where I have issues. That’s where, I suspect, I come across as uniformly uninterested / uninteresting, tongue tied, and stupid. I’m not good at that sort of social encounter. Call it shyness or introversion or, hell, innate assholishness, but them’s the facts.

And not to make excuses, but I did work in government for quite a while. Secrecy in my profession was pretty much required… so after six years of it being easier to simply… you know… keep things to myself, I just sort of applied it to life in general. After all, it’s easier to make sure the secret stuff stays secret if you’re not sharing anything, right?

Problem, though. I don’t abhor company, and I do enjoy good conversation. Being anti-social is a hindrance to the way I’d prefer to live life, so the choices are a) suck it up or b) do something about it. Being the sort of person that prefers to take a limitation and nuke it into the dust (my cure for my extreme discomfort of heights was climbing the mast of an aircraft carrier,) I’ve chosen option B. Of course, my natural reaction to unplanned, open-ended social events (“kill it with fire!”) tends to get in the way sometimes, but heck… I’m giving it a go.

Which is why, of course, I changed my mind last night concerning a local get together. I’d initially intended to skip it, but I was out, I was in the neighborhood, and heck… if it went well, that would be one more experience to build on when out and about. Alas, it did not go well. What I thought was going to be an informal hang-out was instead transformed into a heated political debate. Combine politics, one of many topics that I’ve got a pretty detailed opinion on, with a belligerent gentleman determined to badger, bully, and belittle anyone who disagreed with him… and a crap time was had.

Apparently, mispronouncing profitable is just cause for snickering ridicule, to name the specific crap moment that still stands out.

Yeah, yeah. I’m bitching. But this is my blog, to bitch in if I like. I don’t expect to be coddled, but I generally assume that other human beings understand basic civility.

Hell… I understand those rules and I’m an anti-social jerk!