Week at the Roxbury
December 1, 2006
I’m not sure my employers would want to send me to a gaming convention in Las Vegas. I’m the research winkie.
Prior to this, I was in Vegas a year ago for a data-mining course. This was far less interesting than it sounds. This was my first trip and I did not know what to expect. It was tolerable for 2 days but then I had to get out with 2 days left before my flight out. I showed up at the airport 3 hours early for my flight to get some peace and quiet but the airport had slot machines in the boarding area. There is no place to run in Vegas, which I could find. I went up and down Industrial Drive at 6am past the 24 hour a day strip clubs. I stayed at Circus-Circus. I guess I shouldn’t complain because I wasn’t paying for it but I will anyways. When I checked in, there was another guest in my room. It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been a chalk outline of a person in my room.
For this trip I was much more mentally prepared and ready to fully accept my “inner Vegas”. This trip also featured far less accountability than the last one so I prepared accordingly: shot gunning beer while balancing on a medicine ball in front of a pitching machine with Wayne Newton blaring in my ear. But still nothing can prepare for the real thing. The show took place at the LV convention center: 25,000 delegates and about 4 football fields of exhibits. One entire football field was devoted to just food and beverage samples. This is perfect for the off-season ultra-triathlete with maybe (just maybe) an addictive obsessive-compulsive personality. By day two, the Nathan’s Hot Dogs guys were getting sick of my skinny mustard-stained face…not to mention the Scotch distributors. It should be noted that I did actually leave the food and beverage exhibits, periodically. I was there to learn, honest. Anyways, most of the machine and software vendors had showgirls handing out product information.
In the evenings slot manufacturers would host parties for their customers in clubs I would never, NEVER be allowed into otherwise. It was like “A Night at the Roxbury”. The only thing that could come out of my mouth was “Was up, you from out of town?” and repeat, ad nauseum.
By some strange rift in the space-time continuum I found myself at the Playboy Club on the Fifty First floor of the Palms. Expecting to be kicked out at any second, to allow the real customers in, I wanted to maximize my free booze intake. So I ordered a vodka martini. The bunny asked me if I “wanted it Dirty”. Suddenly, time stood still. The world is ruled by apes, one particular group discovers a mysterious rectangular monolith near their home, which imparts upon them the knowledge of tool use, and enables them to evolve into men. "Also Sprach Zarathustra" blares triumphantly in the background … or just try to imagine the deer-in-the-headlights look as I responded with a resoundingly weak whimper of “uh-huh?”. I don’t know what “dirty” means, I think it means “dry”, however, when a playboy bunny asks you if you want something “dirty”, it’s probably a good idea to say “uh-huh?”
Wait a second, I should probably write about training. I went running one morning for about 40 minutes. My head hurt.
Toodles
I’m not sure my employers would want to send me to a gaming convention in Las Vegas. I’m the research winkie.
Prior to this, I was in Vegas a year ago for a data-mining course. This was far less interesting than it sounds. This was my first trip and I did not know what to expect. It was tolerable for 2 days but then I had to get out with 2 days left before my flight out. I showed up at the airport 3 hours early for my flight to get some peace and quiet but the airport had slot machines in the boarding area. There is no place to run in Vegas, which I could find. I went up and down Industrial Drive at 6am past the 24 hour a day strip clubs. I stayed at Circus-Circus. I guess I shouldn’t complain because I wasn’t paying for it but I will anyways. When I checked in, there was another guest in my room. It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been a chalk outline of a person in my room.
For this trip I was much more mentally prepared and ready to fully accept my “inner Vegas”. This trip also featured far less accountability than the last one so I prepared accordingly: shot gunning beer while balancing on a medicine ball in front of a pitching machine with Wayne Newton blaring in my ear. But still nothing can prepare for the real thing. The show took place at the LV convention center: 25,000 delegates and about 4 football fields of exhibits. One entire football field was devoted to just food and beverage samples. This is perfect for the off-season ultra-triathlete with maybe (just maybe) an addictive obsessive-compulsive personality. By day two, the Nathan’s Hot Dogs guys were getting sick of my skinny mustard-stained face…not to mention the Scotch distributors. It should be noted that I did actually leave the food and beverage exhibits, periodically. I was there to learn, honest. Anyways, most of the machine and software vendors had showgirls handing out product information.
In the evenings slot manufacturers would host parties for their customers in clubs I would never, NEVER be allowed into otherwise. It was like “A Night at the Roxbury”. The only thing that could come out of my mouth was “Was up, you from out of town?” and repeat, ad nauseum.
By some strange rift in the space-time continuum I found myself at the Playboy Club on the Fifty First floor of the Palms. Expecting to be kicked out at any second, to allow the real customers in, I wanted to maximize my free booze intake. So I ordered a vodka martini. The bunny asked me if I “wanted it Dirty”. Suddenly, time stood still. The world is ruled by apes, one particular group discovers a mysterious rectangular monolith near their home, which imparts upon them the knowledge of tool use, and enables them to evolve into men. "Also Sprach Zarathustra" blares triumphantly in the background … or just try to imagine the deer-in-the-headlights look as I responded with a resoundingly weak whimper of “uh-huh?”. I don’t know what “dirty” means, I think it means “dry”, however, when a playboy bunny asks you if you want something “dirty”, it’s probably a good idea to say “uh-huh?”
Wait a second, I should probably write about training. I went running one morning for about 40 minutes. My head hurt.
Toodles
posted by Stimpy at 6:27 p.m.
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