Picking Up Where I Left Off

I took my seat at the booth, now satisfied that the universe was back in balance once again. I placed my order with the sweetest little waiter you'd ever want to meet, then sat back and tried to absorb all the events of the past two days.

The cafe was busy with bustling waitstaff and customers. Families, couples young and old, businessmen sipping coffee while reading the newspaper. From my vantage point I could see everyone who came and went. The decor was a sort of a tacky elegance, silk vines with plastic flowers climbing the columns that separated the sections of the dining room, the sound of dishes clanking together coming from the doorway that lead in to the kitchen.

Shortly after I was seated, the hostess escorted an older couple to the booth adjacent to mine, tucked away in a corner. I could sense that it was "their" booth, that they had their Sunday dinner there often. The staff all stopped and spoke to them as they walked through the dining room and the petite, perfectly groomed woman, who appeared to be nearing seventy, called them all by name, inquiring about their families, their health. She reminded me of my aunt Gail who passed away in January. I thought of her often while I was in Las Vegas, she would have loved it there. On more than one occasion, I caught myself wishing she could see all of this, then was comforted by knowing that she somehow was, through my eyes. I know that had she visited this hotel during her lifetime, she would have been cutting a rug on the dance floor in her disco dress, tossing back Old Grandad over ice, having Bloody Marys with breakfast and spending the afternoons up stairs in the bowling alley. She'd bowled on leagues for most of her adult life, even signing me up for *gasp* bowling lessons on Saturday mornings. This place screamed her name.

The older lady offered a hello to me as she walked by my table. This wouldn't have been unusual here in Frog Pond Holler, where you're expected to speak, or at least toss your hand up to everyone you encounter. But in this other world, where everyone seemed to have their own agenda, I thought it was unusual. She seemed to linger for a second, there was a look in her eyes, as if she thought she recognized me when she spoke, although it may have just been my imagination. She and her husband, who was slightly more frail but still quite the spiffy dresser, took their seats and talked quietly.

It soon became evident that they were expecting to meet someone there. I learned, through some stealthy eavesdropping, that it was their daughter, her new husband and the grandson, who were arriving from some far off place for a visit. She seemed very excited to see them all, I suppose it had been a long time since their last visit.

When they arrived, there were hugs and kisses, machine gun firing of questions from all of them and some pictures taken with the brand new, shiny blue Poloroid camera, recently acquired by the older gentleman from the local Wal-Mart (some things are universal, I guess.) The conversation soon turned to all things Las Vegas, where they were staying, what their plans were while they were there. The now excited mom told her visitors that she'd spoken to the concierge and he'd left them some brochures with information on things to do and she thought that there were some show tickets in the envelope as well.

I perked up.

The daughter opened the envelope as she talked to her dad, inquiring about the new retirement community they were living in.

"What kind of show tickets did you get?" the mom asked.

"Let's see, they say "Craig Ferguson, host of the Late Late Show," she answered, sounding a bit puzzled.

Mom looked puzzled as well. "Who?"

Steve, the grandson, appearing to be in his late twenties, already cursed with the beginnings of a receeding hairline and a pot belly, looked like someone who spent way too much time in front of a computer playing dungeons and dragons and going to Trekki conventions. He interjected, "He's on television, late at night, it's a talk show."

A light went off in Mom's aged little head. "OH! OH!.... Is he the fella that comes on after Letterman??"

"Yes Gramma, that's him," Steve answered, obviously quite pleased with himself and glad to have something to contribute to the conversation.

I was enjoying this more than you could imagine as I dined on the best damned cheeseburger I've ever eaten.

"He is SO funny!!" she exclaimed. "Isn't he French?"

Steve, now looking all superior because he knew something the others didn't, corrected her, "No Gramma, he's Scottish." The daughter just looked at them both like they were speaking in some foreign tongue. Maybe she didn't own a television or maybe she was just a little dense.

"OH! He makes me laugh! He's just precious!!" Gramma was now slamming her tiny, frail, open hand down on the table to make her point. Then she made the funniest comment of the entire conversation, "I can't understand a WORD he says, but he's so FUNNY!!!!"

By now, I'm about to choke on my mooburger. I guess you had to be there to understand how adorable this little lady was, how I instantly just loved her to pieces.

"Are you going to go see him?" she asked of her daughter.

"Probably not, " she answered. I had to fight the urge to worm my way into the conversation, to lean across the booth and tell them they HAD to go see him, that he was hillarious and they wouldn't be disapointed. Honestly, I couldn't have cared less if the rest of the family went to see Craig Ferguson's show that night, but I wished Gramma would. But I didn't do it. I remained seated and quietly finished my meal. I was smiling and thanking those energies that surrounded me, that had placed me there beside this family and kept me from feeling so alone while I had dinner.

As their conversation drifted into the background and I became more aware of my own little corner of the world, my thoughts turned again to those unseen, ever present beings that follow me along life's path.

"Ya know, I could really use some answers about this whole thing."

"It will come, when the time is right. You still haven't grasped the importance of patience."

"I know, I know. But, while you're at it, another glimpse of Craig Ferguson would be nice."

If spirit guides (or angels or whatever you want to call them) can roll their eyes and shake their heads, I sensed that mine did at that moment.

I finished my meal and walked to the cash register, glimpsing back one final time at the sweet little lady in the corner. I paid my bill and went out into the casino to take some more picutres. There were people back home who would probably never see a casino in their lives and I wanted to get shots of everything for them. I started to go to my right, following the same path I'd followed each time I'd walked the floors of this massive place. But something stopped me. Let's go the other way. I turned to my left, always looking around, trying to find something I hadn't already taken pictures of.

I noticed a man walking towards me. He was quite tall, with dark hair and sunglasses. He had two lovely young ladies walking on either side of him, one I recognized from the book signing the night before. As he came closer, it became evident to me who it was.

Craig Ferguson.

I'm certain I stared for a moment, then I realized what I was doing and not wanting to draw attention to myself, I backed into a space between a trash can and one of the hungry casino machines. I watched as they walked along, looking content and chatting away, eventually disappearing into the crowd. My eyes moistened, not because of who I'd seen, but because I'd asked and it had been proven to me one more time that I wasn't alone, that I'm not nuts, that these things which occur around me aren't figments of my imagination.

Life can be truly amazing.

I didn't try to follow. I already felt a little creepy, stalkish and a bit guilty just watching them walk away.

I took a deep breath, sent a silent thank you out to the universe and set about on my picture taking mission. I went off in the opposite direction, taking pictures of this and that. The crowds were smaller, because it was still early and it was easier to maneuver around.

I was smiling, I must have looked like an idgit waddling about with my camera and grinning. I didn't care. Life was good.

I rounded a corner and spotted the escalator that led up to the bowling alley. I thought of Gail and although it wasn't a great shot, I raised my camera to take a picture. As I looked at the screen on the camera, concentrating hard to keep it steady because I wasn't using a flash (didn't want to draw attention to myself, gotta blend in ya know) a man walked into the frame. A man with two young ladies, heading up the escalator to the bowling alley.

I snapped the picture before it dawned on me who the man was. When I lowered the camera, I got a better look and realized it was again, Craig Ferguson.

I smiled, whispered a thank you then added silently, "Okay, this is really cool, but even I'm starting to get a little freaked out."

The resulting picture isn't very clear, it's not evident to anyone but me that it's him. I'm not going to post it because, even though it was accidental, I'd feel a little creepy sharing it.

The whole thing was very surreal. Later I went back to my room, watched t.v. and began packing my stuff for my trip back the next day. In future posts, I'll share some of what happened on the trip there and back, but for now, I'm sure ya'll are tired of this whole Vegas adventure. There are events which led up to this trip that I can't tell you about, part of what makes the whole thing truly awesome. But as they say: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, and some of it shall.