Viva Lost Wages-Part 1

First, let me say that I had high hopes for the city of Lost Wages, I mean Las Vegas, because I had never visited and I was excited about the sites that I would see.  However, my hopes were clearly dashed once I arrived.  First, as I was struggling out of the airport to get to my hotel, I was accosted by this old man who gives me a card of a “cat house” and then tells me that the hookers are 25% off on Sunday.  How strange, I pondered.  I thought that the prostitutes rested on the seventh day.  Oh well.   After I explained to the gentleman that I was not interested, I began to wonder what made him approach me out of all of the men who had gotten off of the plane.  Did I look that desperate for female companionship?  But, I digress.  Finally, I made it to my shuttle and breathed a sigh of relief.  Unfortunately, my driver appeared to not know the brake from the gas and lurched so violently at one point that all of the passengers slid forward and almost fell off of our seats.  Fortunately, I made it in one piece and finally arrived at the Riviera.  I was not impressed.  It appears as if the 70’s died and this hotel was preserving its memory.  After waiting in line for 80 minutes, I finally made it to the front desk and was met with the oldest hotel reservationist that I have ever encountered.  As I was about to give him my name, his manager came up to him and asked if he had yet taken his break.  Apparently this was a sore subject for this man because he answered, and I quote, “Hell, I haven’t even taken my damn lunch yet.”  The manager looked at the gentleman and just laughed nervously and then looked at me to see what my reaction was.  I found it to be quite funny and apropos to the day that I was having so me being me, I laughed. The manager breathed an audible sigh of relief and the reservationist did not even get reprimanded.  I think that the hotel employees are all in unions and the manager did not want to deal with that headache on top of all of the guests who were attempting to check in to the hotel at that moment.  After checking in I was finally able to go to my room.  However, before I got there, I had to cut through cigarette smoke that was so thick it could choke a horse.  Whose idea was it to have the elevators located near the casino?  And what a casino it is.  I have been here for four days now and I have not seen a single patron smiling or appearing as if they are having fun in this casino.  Quite frankly, it’s depressing.   Yet, I must admit that the patrons were very diverse.  There were young patrons, old patrons, black patrons, Latino patrons, Asian patrons, white patrons, Indian patrons…you get the gist.  And they were all united in one cause…feeding the one armed bandits and not a single one of them was winning.

Finally, it was time to check out the city life of Las Vegas and a friend of mine (who I will call T.C.) and I decided to travel the way most tourists do, by bus.  Big mistake.  Now I am not an elitist, but this bus had us all squished like sardines and poor T.C. had to worry about his wallet possibly being picked by a woman who was no taller than 4 foot 2 and having his eye poked out by a very “busomy” woman who stood too close to him for comfort.  Finally, we fought our way off of the bus (well, T.C. fought and I just followed suit ) and visited the Bellagio.  Another big mistake.  The Bellagio was gorgeous.  I mean stunning.  It had dancing fountains, beautiful artwork in the lobby, wonderful garden sculptures, happy people in the casinos and what does our hotel have? Our hotel has an appearance by Andrew Dice Clay.  Really Las Vegas?  Seriously?  I know that I am here on business and that the room was included with the training, but we are so far from the strip and there is no action going on around this hotel, except for the few stray prostitutes who are not upscale enough to work near the Wynn, MGM Grand, or Caesar’s Palace.  Oh well.  However, staying at the Riviera has ensured that I stay focused on workshops as there is nothing (and I do mean nothing) that can sway me to skip a session (not that I would ever do that).  I still have three more days left in the city of Lost Wages.  Maybe part two of this story will include more fun-filled adventure.  Until next time dear reader, always look for the funny.

Didn't We Almost Have it All?

I can't believe it. The woman of my libidinous teenage years and dreams has died.  Whitney Houston was the only woman that I would hear sing and swear that she was singing about me and to me.  There are so many memories that I have that surround Whitney Houston's music.  Picture it...Langley, South Carolina 1986.  A small shy young man has a major crush on a girl named Wendy.  The Naval ball was fast approaching (I was in NJROTC and so was the beautiful Wendy).  As I was very shy during my high school years (I know that's hard to believe, but truly I was), I wanted to ask Wendy to the dance, but the lack of courage and a driver's license prevented me from doing so.  So I settled for the next best thing. I was determined that I was going to ask her for a dance.  Now the best thing to do would be to wait for a fast song to be played so that there was no fear of the awkward touching that one has to endure during a slow dance, but this was my last year of high school and I was throwing caution to the wind.  I got up my courage and finally asked Wendy to dance with me and to my surprise she said yes.  We danced to Whitney's "Didn't We Almost Have it All?" and at that moment I felt that I did.  I knew that by the time this dance was over, Wendy would be mine and no one would be able to separate us.  Surely, Wendy must have known how I felt about her.  Whitney was telling her.  The song ended and alas so did my chances with Wendy.  My love for Wendy would remain unrequited.  

Let's visit Oxford, Ohio in the winter of 1993.  It was here that I was listening to the radio and heard a song that made me run (not walk) to the record store.  I heard this beautiful song entitled "I Will Always Love You."  When I heard that song, there was no need for the radio announcer to say the name of the artist; anyone with ears knew that it was Whitney Houston.  I just knew that I HAD to have that song.  Unfortunately, I had to wait until it was actually released, but a guy named Paul, took my name and phone number and promised that he would save a copy of the CD for me when it arrived.  After some investigation, I found out that the song was from the movie "The Bodyguard."  I saw this movie SIX TIMES when it came out and with each showing I began to hate Kevin Costner because he was getting paid to do things with Whitney on screen that I would have happily done in real life for free!  Luckily, Paul called shortly after the movie was released and I purchased the soundtrack and listened to it ad nauseum.  I still play the soundtrack to this day, and even my children know all of the songs.

Flash forward to 1994.  By this time, the beautiful Wendy has been replaced with my wife, the gorgeous Cathy and I am working at the University of Georgia (Go Dawgs!).  A new movie has come out entitled "The Preacher's Wife" and I am determined that I am going to see it on the day  it comes out, during the first showing (as only a true fan would)!  I took some time off from work and some co-workers and I saw the show.  After seeing the movie for the first time, I purchased the soundtrack and literally, within two hours, knew the words to every song . . . even the lukewarm song that she sang with Bobby Brown.  Of course, that was not my only viewing.  That weekend I saw the movie four times!  My wife knows that if she wants to start an argument all she has to say is something to the effect of "Whitney can't sing.”  My wife and I have gotten into many heated discussions over Whitney and my love for her that has endured for these past 27 years.  Of course, for someone who thinks that Whitney Houston cannot sing it always amazes me how my Whitney Houston CD's would end up in her car or office. My wife knows how much I love Whitney and that I will always defend Whitney Houston even through her troubles and addictions. In fact, upon hearing the news, my wife called me to see how I was doing . . . as if I actually knew Whitney Houston personally. My wife, my family and my close friends know that I am very saddened by this news, but I take refuge in the fact that I have every single one of her songs and can hear her anytime I'm feeling a little depressed.  Rest in peace Whitney and remember that I will always love you (even though I am married to Cathy).