Arriving in Las Vegas

When you're depressed, just stick a hamster in a hamster ball and watch it chase the cat. Works wonders.

I've told ya'll about most of the highlights of my trip to Las Vegas back in the summer, but I never did tell you the rest of the story. The flights there and back are epic tales in themselves and will have to wait until a later time. Tonight I'll tell you the story of my arrival.

When my plane landed I had no idea what time it was. I'd left my house at a little after noon, driven to Knoxville, flown to Philadelphia, sat there for two hours then traveled to Las Vegas. Between the time difference and my slightly disturbed flight companions, I was just thankful to get back on the ground. The airport there is huge, I got lost trying to find the baggage pickup, finally got myself turned around in the right direction, rushing to get there, only to stand and wait for a good thirty minutes for them to get our stuff unloaded.

I knew there were shuttles to the hotels, so as I waited for my one bag, I looked around for signs pointing me in the right direction. As I exited the airport, I saw the kiosk outside where you paid for the shuttle, collected my token (I think it was only like three bucks) and walked over to the shuttle bus. It wasn't very large and it looked full, but the driver assured me that there was room for one more, took my bag and crammed it in the back compartment. I got on and spotted one seat near the rear of the bus. We sat there for a few minutes, then watched as more people piled on. There weren't any more seats, they were standing in the aisle and there weren't any handles for them to grab onto. The rest of us just kept watching in amazement as more and more people loaded on.

Finally the driver boarded the bus and took a quick inventory of which hotels he was stopping at. As he took off, I realized that if I made it to the hotel alive it would be a miracle. The dude thought he was freakin' Richard Petty, whipping around corners and flying over speed bumps. When he'd make one of those sudden moves.. or worse.. a sudden stop.. the people standing in the aisle would instinctively grab the first thing they could get their hands on to keep from falling which was usually the closest seated person's head. I just knew that if I did make it out alive, some poor shnook would have surely snatched me bald by the time I got to the hotel.

We stopped at all the nicer hotels on the strip, which was kind of cool, I got to see a lot of Vegas on the trip to the hotel, even if it was at warp speed. The only time I actually thought I was going to die was while flying through a parking garage, where I swear we were airborne a few times. As the bus emptied out, it cooled off considerably in there. I was perspiring like a heifer after an aerobics class for most of the trip. When there were only three of us left, he made his way to The Orleans. It was me along with a mother and daughter who were staying there as well. I tried to make small talk, but they were too busy fighting, apparently the daughter had some stalking intentions that her mother was trying to talk her out of. Little did I know at the time that she was there to see Craig Ferguson as well.

As we traveled away from the strip, I realized I wouldn't be walking to any of the other attractions from our hotel, not in that heat. I started to get worried when the driver slowed down to pull into the parking lot and right across the street was an adult entertainment emporium.

The Orleans turned out to be a pretty nice place, I'm ashamed to admit that I was momentarily awestruck when I walked in the door. It had been so long since I'd been anywhere with crowds, lights and people of assorted ancestry. I felt like I was finally back in the U.S. after being off in exile for thirteen years.

I approached the desk, travel weary, filmy and just a WEE bit cranky, still addled from the shuttle bus experience. I told the clerk my name, gave him my credit card and he began typing away on his computer.

"How many people are staying?" he asked.

"Just one," I answered.

He went back to clicking his keyboard, stopped and waited a moment as if he were waiting for another screen to come up, then asked, "How many keys will you need?"

"Umm, just the one."

Then, I swear, he says, "I know you said there was only one guest, but how many keys?" Then he grins at me like a freakin' moron and WINKS.

What the crap?

"ONE..PLEASE."

Then he informs me that if I should become in need of a second key, all I had to do was let them know.

I was two seconds away from crawling across that counter and goin' ghetto hillbilly on his ass. I had no idea what he was going on about, but I was tired, hot and having the nicotine fit from hell. Patience was not a high priority for me at that moment. Luckily for him, I got my room key seconds later and found my way up to my room.

I walked in and the arctic blast that hit my face was truly a godsend. You could hear a chorus of angels playing in the background when I spotted the thermostat set at 65 degrees.

HALLIFREAKINLOO-YA!

I started shucking clothes before I barely got in the door. I grabbed the remote and turned on the television, still no clue what time it was. It took me a minute to figure out how to change to a channel other than the official hotel welcome screen, but I finally sorted it out and a smile formed on my lips when the first thing I heard was the theme song from The Late Late Show. It was then that it dawned on me to glance at the clock. It was 12:30. I had been traveling for nearly twelve hours. No damned wonder I was cranky.

I got my things situated, cleaned up a bit then sat back with a drink and a smoke, listening to Craig Ferguson's monologue, which included a joke about North Carolina, where you can buy a gun, alcohol and fireworks all in one stop.

Go figure :)