Las Vegas: Hot and Cold

Las Vegas, you leave me hot and cold.

The hot summer winds sweeping down from the mountain leave my mouth dry in seconds. The sun beating down, relentlessly, glares off every surface. Sweat evaporates as soon as it appears. Then I walk indoors........ and I'm cold. Artificially-fabricated coconut scented arctic-feeling air streams from vents.

You are a city for beautiful people - at least on the strip, in the tourist area. Size 1 girls coiffed, made up and dressed to the nines stand in lines to shop, party, and drink. Men follow like puppy dogs. The nightclubs turn us mere ordinaries away, as we are not beautiful enough. Gorgeous girls in bikinis are everywhere: the hotel lobbies, taxi lines, walking the strip.

You are a city for old people. Elderly are as ubiquitous as the beautiful. Are you preying on their dreams of a more comfortable retirement by luring them into your gaming dens to steal their futures?

Your hotels reach for the sky, each new one trying to outdo the last: bigger, taller, swankier, sleeker, more technology.

Your service industry rolls. The people who serve others here do it well. I learned from a fantastic hair stylist yesterday that most of the people he knows who have completed college don't use their degrees. They go into the service industries and work for the casinos instead. The casinos pay more. He doesn't like living here; he has children and hates the constant barrage of sex, gambling and other vices they are exposed to every day.

Food - oh my gosh. How do you produce such fantastic-tasting delicacies in the middle of such an arid wasteland?

I love how you emerged from the mirage of the desert, making something of nothing. And what a something it is! Money built this town, it is clear. Money, greed, and ego. I look around and see - and hate - so many things geared toward the pursuit of pleasure, filling selfish needs.

Las Vegas, I can see why Stephen King cast you in The Stand. Yet I succumb, at least briefly, to your allure. Hot and cold.

Hotels and Me

I was excited to stay at the new Cosmopolitan hotel in Vegas. It's sleek and modern; it's not trying to imitate a foreign city, no volcanos, no roller coasters.

I unlocked the door to the room and walked in. First glance, everything looks good. Spacious, nicely appointed. Then I opened the closet to unpack. Staring me in the face? Dirty men's dress socks.

Ok, the cleaning person missed them. They were in the closet; I can overlook that.

Next, I open the sliding door and step onto the balcony. Empty (dirty) drink glass, pack of cigarettes, full ashtray, miscellaneous wrapper. I won't be relaxing out there!

Bathroom is next. Half-used bottle of mouthwash on the sink. Long black hairs on the white rug on the floor.

Talked with my pal Sal, who has a room seven floors up. Her suite is great. Two bathrooms, no leftover stuff, and a view of the Bellagio fountains.

Why do I have such weird hotel karma?

Hospital Visits

When I had surgery last year, I told friends and family to stay away. I only wanted my husband with me at the hospital. The reasons were perfectly selfish. I didn't want them seeing me out of it, in pain, and grouchy. I also did not want to feel the need to try to entertain anyone.

I know it's comforting for some people to be surrounded by family and friends when sick or hospitalized. I've found that for me it brings out my most polarized form of introversion: I don't want to deal with anyone except the person closest to me.

If this hurts anyone else (like my mom), I am sorry; but at the end of the day, the reason I'm there takes precedence over anyone's feelings except my own. If I'm not comfortable emotionally, I won't be comfortable physically. Ten years ago I could not have stayed strong in the face of all the best intentions of others thinking they needed to be there for me. I would have caved, had people buzzing around, and I would have been even more miserable than I already was.

I'm a little bit different after the "big C" experience than before, and that's not all bad. I'm less likely to put up with the things that bother me. If I don't have any interest in something, I give myself permission to acknowledge that and say no. If I do have a bit of interest but it makes me uncomfortable, I'm more likely to just try it. This last point is harder for me than the first two, I admit!

Do you like having visitors when you're ill? Do you enjoy visiting others when they're sick?

Image: Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Mundane but Amusing

Sometimes the most mundane conversations can provoke a smile (or giggle).

Me: "They couldn't get it up yesterday."
Boss: "They didn't drill properly?"
Me: "Apparently they didn't have the correct tools. Dick will be in Friday to get it up."

This was a recent conversation at work about installing whiteboards in a conference room.

Alive and Kicking

June 1st was my one-year anniversary of my last chemo treatment.

I'm happy, of course. Relieved nothing has appeared during checkups and tests. Still scared it will come back. Terrified at times. Thankful for my life. Grateful I've been able to give back over the last year. Hopeful I will be able to continue to give.

Here's something from the playlist on my iPod that day: