I’ll get to the city-by-city posting soon enough, but for now l cleaned up the last post to make it legible and I’m specifying that I didn’t just go the Czech Republic. I also went to Poland, Austria, the Netherlands and Belgium for about three hours (most of which was in an airport).
It could just be because I’m tired, but I’m having trouble using this crazy contraption. I did get a full nine hours of sleep last night, so it’s probably more related to the fact that the last half of my kick-ass European vacation was spent away from a keyboard. Once we hit the first of the Euro currency countries, it was less computer and more 24 hour laundromats, dirty-ass Prague, and the red light district in the world’s hottest tourist spot (the last place is only famous because of it’s proximity to the Anne Frank house I’m sure…).
The bad news is that I forgot my blogger password overseas and in Vienna the German keyboards were too much to handle. The good news is that I got everything down in eight tightly packed pages in my journal, so now that I’m on my laptop where my password is saved I can clean up (a lot) what I wrote down and put it up city by city.
So for those of you that care, I’m back. Maybe not better than ever, but with a shitload of souvenirs. Of course, I couldn’t afford to get something for everyone, but I may have somehow managed it anyway. A postcard will reach The Triangle crew from the Czech republic any month now, since I didn’t specify those all-important words: “air mail”.
Time to make the donuts… (that’s code for “finish the few things Dia didn’t do while I was away”, which isn’t much since she pretty much took care of everything).
I could have paid $10 for 24 hours of Internet access in the hotel room, but I’m pretty sure getting my money’s worth doing that would have only earned me some well-deserved criticism back here. So I wrote down everything I could at different points, did a piss-poor job of copy editing it and compiling it on the overnight flight back over here, and just posted them now. Bon appetit.
I should have known that something was up the second we stepped on the plane. The hot blonde chica sitting a row behind me with her laptop and “entertain me” T-shirt should have clued me in to the fact that the next week would be packed with beautiful people. That is the single greatest difference between Las Vegas and Atlantic City: the people. I don’t think I can ever go back to AC with it’s crinkly-old and white-trash clientelle. Everywhere you turn in Vegas is filled with gorgeous people, cut guys strutting around with gals just shy of being models. Granted, a fair number of these girls were off-duty dancers and cocktail waitresses but there were an inordinate amount of regular joettes as well.
I really think I want to move to Vegas. Before I get to the trip summary, I’ll rattle off the same facts that were given to us by our Hoover Dam tour guide. First, the reputation of Sin City isn’t really accurate, though they’re trying to get back to that mentality since it’s more profitable. Also, the city of Las Vegas has built, on average, two new schools each year for the last 10 years, all state-of-the-art facilities. Also, retail businesses have a staggering 98% success rate, you’d have to work really hard to have your business fail out here, and there is no end in sight. Unemployment is extremely low, property values are high, new houses are being built to the tune of 200,000 each year, and the state is a right-to-work state, meaning (from what I gathered) that most industries are both union and non-union depending on where you work, and that minimum wage means very little since its a service-based economy.
I could see myself getting a job as a technician for one of the shows down here, maybe putting my digital media degree to some use. Even if it doesn’t pay a lot, it would be sweet to have a part-time job as a cabbie or a dealer (cards, not drugs).
Now, on to the events. There were meny highlights of our trip; there was the helicopter flight to a picnic lunch inside the Grand Canyon (truly awe-inspiring), the van trip to Hoover Dam (awe-inspiring in a “mankind kicks ass if it can do this type of shit” kind of way, especially since it is one of the few government projects that not only cost the tax payers absolutely nothing to construct, but continues to pay for itself every year), fabulous shows including Cirque du Soleil’s Mystere and an hour of George Carlin’s dirtiest stand-up routine ever, and some of the best food I’ve ever eaten.
Where would Vegas be without smut? The streets are literally paved with it. There are little Mexican’s on almost every corner handing out advertisements for phone sex lines and strip clubs, and the ground around them is littered with trading card-sized leaflets. It’s a tribute to a free society when immigrants can make their lot in life by handing out pictures of naked girls with little stars on the naughty parts; the only problem is that it gets really annoying after the first three blocks, especially since it’s not even good smut. So in this case, do not give us your huddled masses if all they’re going to do is thrust useless paper in our hands. I also should have known better than to think that was as close to porn as I would get on this trip. On the way back from the movie theater at three in the morning, a girl pulled alongside Dad and me in her SUV, grabbed her barely-covered breast and kindly inquired if we would like to “suck on [her] tit” or “how about a blowjob?” Took me completely by surprise she did, I didn’t even have enough time to pull out my camera before she was rolling on to her next prospect. Ahh, hooking in the automobile age. I guess I should have been more prepared for my first soliciting especially in a town with numerous topless revues and a nightclubs so trendy they can afford to be named after the fleshy pink part of the nipple (“Aureole”).
People who think gambling is silly or dangerous are stupid.
Clearly, Las Vegas is thriving, and there is no doubt as to how or why. People employed in the service industry would be working there if it weren’t profitable. It’s easy to dismiss gambling as foolish, especially if you haven’t tried it. There are some people who bet on odds that are worse than the odds they depend on to keep their plane flight to Vegas in the air. But there is such a thing as smart gambling. Spending $500 in Vegas might seem like throwing it out the window to some people, but there’s another side to this coin as well. These people are the same ones who would spend close to $100 for a day at a theme park.
I know anecdotal evidence isn’t valid in a lot of cases, but here it is anyway. I gambled for four days straight, before and after shows, meals, and day trips. Since I was smart about it and didn’t get over my head, I made $250. I realize that I could have lost that amount just as easily, but it is a small price to pay for the fun I had. It’s not just about winning the “big one” either, it is about the ups and downs of taking chances with a few of your closest strangers. As long as you know the odds and aren’t overly foolish, there is really very little to worry about. Also, I made a hell of a lot more considering I drank three days straight: white russians, coronas, diet coke, bottled water. They don’t want you standing up, so if you time it just right you can drink like a fish and bet the minimum, usually breaking even. My dad lost some money, but since he can afford it, it was all thrills for him topped by an $800 winning streak at the end. Right before that, the hotel comped him half of the price of our massages that we got on our first day there, the two dinners at the hotel cafe, and even two free rooms for two nights the next time he comes back (which happens to be in a week). Wheeeeee!
It’s easy to polarize gamblers into one of two stereotypes — the rich bastards that can afford to lose thousands and the poor white trash who are throwing their quarters away by the fistful — but Vegas isn’t like that it all. For the majority of people who can budget a few hundred dollars for entertainment. As for the people who just don’t think it’s fun to gamble, you’re either a pansy because you haven’t tried it or you just suck.
I do have one good horror story…. The only game I play is Carribean Stud Poker. Regular poker rules apply, but you have only two options after seeing your cards, fold or double your ante. If you beat the dealer *and* she has ace/king or higher (known as qualifying), you get paid in accordance with the odds. Not that this is relevant to this particular story. There’s also a jackpot. To be eligible for this jackpot you have to put a dollar in the slot. Apart from whether you beat the dealer or not, you can get a bonus (paid from the jackpot) for anything highe than a flush. It generally makes sense to play the dollar, since if you hit a big hand and you don’t beat the dealer (or if she doesn’t qualify) you still win something. Well, since i was losing pretty badly and was on the verge of walking away, I just ponied up $5 without putting the dollar in the jackpot slot — my first time not doing so. Wouldn’t you know it, I got a full house. Even though the dealer qualified and I got paid $75 in addition to salvaging my original $15 bet, I could have gotten an extra $150. I got sympathy from everyone at the table, and the best hand I ever had went virtually unrewarded. What a day.
Even if Vegas doesn’t sound like your cup of tea yet, gambling is the only thing to do in town. There are always free demonstrations and exhibits in addition to the gambling and overpriced rollercoasters, aquarium, and shows. There’s a lion cage at the MGM Grand, a pirate show at Treasure Island a water fountain show at the Bellagio, “moving statues” at the Venetian and Caesar’s, and works of art everwhere, from the crafting of the casinos themselves to the Picasso on walls of the Conservatory. I had only seen Disney successfully combine the elements of architecture, music, lighting, food, and costume to create a themed environment, that is until now. it’s not a theme park for adults, it’s 12 or 13 of them within walking distance of eachother. New York, New York and Paris are two of the coolest, mainly because they have replicas of historic monuments, but they’re also the most frustrating becuase each would reaquire an entire day to fully appreciate it all.
I picked out a few annoying word misuses out in Vegas, and I figure since my mom reads my blog occasionally, she’d get a kick out of it if I threw them in here.
1. Apparently in the west, our hometown newspaper is know as the Philadelphia Enquirer. Stupid rednecks.
2. A Hoover Dam warning read, “Workers below: Do not throw objects.” Whether you read this as a headline or just a sentence, it doesn’t make any damn sense.
3. The x-ray station at the airport had a nice little sign assuring passengers that “X-rays will not effect unexposed film.” If you can’t figure it out, you’re too stupid to live.
Well, the Memorial Day Weekend Extravaganza was a success I think. Despite a few grumblings and a spot of sauciness here and there, everyone made it through in one piece. Not counting my arm that is, which is in a hell of a lot of pain; looks like I’ll have a few more scars to add to the collection on my arm.
For those of you counting, that’s the seven-stich job on my left arm from the time I cut myself open with a box cutter at work (I could have given myself a little liposuction if I wanted to, there was absolutely no blood since the blade was so sharp), and the six pock marks (three on each arm) from the skin samples I gave to Ivy Labs. This latest gouging I once again inflicted upon myself, this time while looking to catch a kickball that really was ungodly in size. Simply put, I ran into a tree. My shoulder took the brunt of the force since it hurts the most, but my forearm was sandwiched inbetween. The only problem is that while the different parts of my body were vying for the antibodies they so desparately needed, there was very little left over to attack the bronchitis I got courtesy of Matthew J. O’Connell. End result: Tuesday’s intake expelled directly into Dia’s toilet Wednesday at 2 a.m.
On top of that, I found out Wednesday that I may not be graduating as smoothly as I had hoped. I figured I could sweet talk my way into having the Stat courses I took count for the Stat courses I should have taken. After all, what’s the big deal about engineering statistics for someone who has way too many engineering credits anyway? Well, now I have to take a quiz next Thursday on two chapters that are based on material I knew two years ago, all while indulging in the pleasures of Las Vegas. My dad was right, I have a nasty habit of procrastinating these things jump up and bite me in the ass.
Back to Memorial Day, it seems as if everyone had a good time. A few made it a point to say thanks, which is always appreciated considering how much I worry about people having a good time. There were a few that didn’t make it. Mullen would have been good to have around for a quick run for strippers in Washington D.C., but then again he probably would have incited more riots that he was worth anyway. It was nice knowing that Mitch, Dave, Jason and Tim helped fund our hotel stay by deciding not to take the slots they reserved. Next year there won’t be an extravaganza since I’ll be an usher at Dave’s wedding, but the year after that if people are still interested, they can shell out cash for their own rooms. After all, we’re grown-ups now.
Speaking of growing up, when the hell are Chris and Lisa going to get a car? Ross and I were musing about how they’ve made it this far without one, and thinking of Chris taking Lisa to the hospital on the Orange Line for the birth of their first child. Not to mention that neither seems to have much practice driving in the city, and I can just imagine them driving around oblivious to the ins and outs of city driving. Silly procrastinators don’t realize how bad they have it until it jumps up and bites them in the….
The betabrite project is stagnant, and I fear the worst. The main problem is that it can only be seen at night, when I’m less likely to be driving around. Not only that, but I have to have someone who’s a) willing to type, b) willing to type something either offensive, funny, or both, and c) able to type quickly. Sometimes I scream things to the back of the van regarding potential targets only to have the person typing so damn slow that opportunities are wasted. More often though I don’t even have my computer with me because I’m the only one in the car.
I’ve come up with a few solutions, each of which has its pros and cons.
1. Mount a keyboard on my dashboard
This has more than its share of problems. I still have to have my laptop open near me which means buckling it in and positioning it just so. The biggest problem isn’t even typing while I drive and steering with my wrists — that I’m sure I could handle. The main problem occurred to me while being pulled over for my second speeding ticket in five years (89 in a 65, $270; God I hate Maryland): appearance. If some cop pulls me over and sees a keyboard strapped to my dash, I’m in for a world of hurt. Not only that, but some piece of shit ign’ant enough to be cruising for a car to break into is going to think he hit a gold mine with a computer keyboard.
2. Remote control
Ryan has a neat little infrared jobber that jacks right into the USB port and uses a remote control. If my programmers (Tomas) could link the IR software to the betabrite software, I would consider buying it. Again, this requires the laptop be up, running, and strapped in with only me around to control it and again: not a very safe option.
3. Daylight operation
To increase the chances of having someone intelligent behind the controls of the betabrite, it might be simpler just to make it work during the day. Only problem is I really have no idea how I’d go about this.
Of course, all of this is contingent upon my slave labor who don’t really get to see the fruits of their hard work. And money, I need more money to pump into research. Aren’t there any federal grants that could address the need for text messaging on our nation’s roadways? Maybe Sean would know, as he’s got that question mark guy’s book: “The ones who know about the programs are the ones who get the money!”
