Well, I did not get arrested in Vegas. Neither did I get sunburned, drunk, or married. Really, it was one of the more sedate experiences I've had, considering the availability of alcohol and guitar players, both of which I harbor a certain weakness for. You'd think I would have made more of an effort towards misbehavior. I promise I will try harder next time around.
Here are some of the things I now know about Vegas:
1) There is no such thing as smoke free. Caesar's Palace, with its 900 foot ceilings (okay, a smidgen of exaggeration there) was scented with some obnoxious aromatherapy to disguise the fact that everyone there missed the last two and a half decades of research on the subject of second hand smoke.
2) I like burlesque dancers. A lot. I feel bad for strippers, and for Pussycat Dolls. Robin Antin gives real burlesque a bad name.
3) There is an inherent flaw in a town that charges $.99 for a margarita and $16.99 for a cup of gelato. No, you did not read that second price incorrectly.
4) When you compliment the bartender on the nature of his Manhattans, he upgrades all the drinks of your order to top shelf liquor and does not charge you. Also, he remembers you the next day, because out of the 25,000 drinks he made over the weekend, you were the only one who asked for an extra cherry. Or, um, something.
5) I only take pictures of bass players:
6) Deke Dickerson is one tall drink of water.
7) A 6' man in a snap brim hat is easy to find in a crowd.
Anyhow, the list of things I regrettably missed includes Ray Campi, Laura Lee Perkins, and Sonny West, and the Tiki Pool Party, which was at our hotel, but which was foregone in lieu of a couple of really great shows I was happy to have seen. Also missed: Spamalot, Fab Four Mania, and all of the free shows. I mean, the pirate ship at Treasure Island only had two shows a day, the volcano at the Mirage was down for repair, the Atlantis exhibit at Caesar's was down for repairs, we never made it to the end of the Strip to see the circus acts at Circus Circus... We were lame. What can I say? Last, but without a doubt not least: I did not eat dessert all. Fucking. Weekend.
The end. Next time I'm just going back to New Orleans.