Well the conference is over, so my vacation is officially on!
Packed up my shit this morning and moved over to The Luxor. Kind of a small room but I'm in the pyramid and the view down is quite cool:
Tonight I get to go see KA at The MGM Grand. It should be cool.
Tomorrow I get to go driving. Just how far remains to be seen.
Yesterday was a long day.
After the last conference session I took a cab to The Freakin Frog out by UNLV. This is a bar touted on the Internet as having the best beer selection in Nevada.
I believe it. Their bottled beer list is the only one I've ever seen that rivals that of Rich O's. On tap, they only had nine or so beers, with no less than three IPAs.
My plan, going in, was to drink some beer that I hadn't had before. This plan was shattered when I saw that they had Alaskan Smoked Porter on tap. Of course I couldn't resist this, one of my favorite beers, in draft form.
While I enjoyed my porter and a cheeseburger and fries I perused the beer list - about twenty pages of beer, sorted by country of origin. I think the same list is available at their website.
My second choice was easy. A beer I hadn't had before but always wanted to try:
(bottle) A nice copper color with a decent head. Starts out a little bitter but has a sweet finish and aftertaste. Works out to be very well-balanced. Another winner from Juneau.
Making a choice, from all the beers available, for my final beer proved to be too tough of a decision for me to make. I asked the bartender (a girl that reminded me a lot of MisunderstoodGirl) to find me a good Belgian that I hadn't had before.
What she came back with, after a couple of suggestions for beer that I'd already had in the past, was a Belgian from Canada that I've seen at Rich O's but never ordered:
(bottle) A very fizzy mouthfeel. Hint of apples - common in Belgians. Quite good, could use more flavor and less fizz.
After I took a cab back to the world, er, the strip, I was supposed to go see Zumanity at New York New York. At least that's what I thought. It turned out that I'd purchased a ticket for the April 24th show, not the May 16th show. Why did I do this? I blame the fact that I bought the ticket on April 12th when I was quite distracted by other events.
So I didn't get to see the show. What I ended up doing was hanging out at The ESPN Zone drinking Newcastles with some girls from Portland Maine who were drinking some foofoo drinks. I was wearing my Great Lost Bear shirt so that's how I was able to infiltrate their little group.
At one point everybody wanted to go up to Fremont Street. Well, everybody except me. I wanted to take one or more of the lovelies back to my room. But of course I'm much too shy too ever actually suggest such a thing, so I went to Fremont Street with them. I switched to Diet Coke while the girls somehow managed to keep drinking. We formed a sort of structural support, where I ended up walking and standing with all three girls putting almost all of their weight on me. I'm sure we were quite a sight, and I'm also sure that I got a few jealous looks from guys in the crowd.
As it turned out, nothing happened except for some nice kisses that I got for being such a sweet guy. I spent the night with them in their room and then came back here to Mandalay Bay this morning.
Now I have to check out of here and go check in to The Luxor.
I recently wrote that I thought I'd figured out who was being so hateful to me last Fall. I wrote that I'd decided to forgive that person.
Now I've got this theory rattling around in my head that, if true, means that I not only should forgive her, I actually owe her a big debt of gratitude.
Not gratitude for being such a bitch in the Fall, as that was really uncalled-for, but for finally helping to put a stop to the bullshit that's been going on ever since.
For finally explaining that which was apparently invisible, or at least irrelevant.
Empathy is a hard thing to teach. I hope the lesson sticks.
Or, I could be just as wrong about this as I've been about everything else.
Like I said the other day, I'm in my own little world here.
And in my little world, I may have found myself an ally, or at least a sympathizer.
Last night I went over to The Monte Carlo's brewpub. The place was, like all Las Vegas establishments, beautifully decorated and laid-out. Unfortunately all the money they've obviously thrown into the place hasn't made it to the beer. I only tried two that, going by their styles, might appeal to me. They didn't.
Monte Carlo Silver State Stout
(draft) Very thin flavor and mouthfeel. Definitely drinkable, but so is water.
(draft) Quite disgusting. Has that tingly mouthfeel that I detest in lagers. I was surprised to find it in this, ostensibly an ale. This is a beer trying to appeal to the swill drinking masses and the good beer drinkers at the same time. It fails at both.
When I left The Monte Carlo I took a cab to The Rio and went to The Tilted Kilt.
While there I had a Newcastle and a couple of Rogue Dead Guy Ales.
It was pretty cool to be back at The Tilted Kilt though. I wish some of the people I've gotten to know over the years had been working. I'm told that I should come back Tuesday.
Today I kinda impressed myself.
I walked from The Stratosphere to Mandalay Bay, a distance of approximately 664,323.4 miles.
I'd never been to The Stratosphere before. I was pretty impressed with all the restaurants and shit they have there. I guess because they're so far out of the way that they pretty much have to be able to provide for their guests.
Walking up to the thing is pretty impressive. I mean, you know it's tall, but you might not know that it's fucking tall. Don't feel bad. It's a fine line between the two.
Down there somewhere is the place I stood when I took the first picture.
Here are some people that may be about to die. Or at least buy some new underwear.
The elevator operator was telling me that when they first opened up this ride they had problems with it. I asked if he meant that it was flinging people to their deaths and he said no just with the wind, where the whole thing would shut down and leave people hanging there.
Anyway, once I left The Stratosphere I waked down to The Riviera. The BCA tournament is going on and I thought I'd look to see if anyone I knew was there. I did see a couple of people from Louisville, but nobody from Omaha or Seattle or New Orleans or Memphis. I plan to go back sometime this week, and I also called a couple of people to see if anyone I knew was at the tournament.
After The Rio I walked to Wynn's new place and checked it out. Pretty cool, but so crowded that I didn't stick around for very long.
When I left Wynn's I walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked to New York New York and went into this place called Nine Fine Irishmen for lunch and some beers.
A pretty beautiful place. I took other pictures but they're all shaky and unviewable, like this one:
I've been thinking about putting a bar in my basement. I don't I could pull something like this off though, what with 7-foot ceilings and all.
(draft) Nowhere on the tap did it have the word lager. That's false advertising as far as I'm concerned, but so is the lack of the phrase watery baby bunny piss. This just might give a Stella a run for its money as the weakest non-American lager in the world.
To wash the taste of that stuff out of my mouth I had a Smithwick's with my lunch, then had another beer that was new to me.
(draft) Lacing doesn't even begin to describe the foam that clung to my glass. A very nice stout - reminded me a lot of Murphy's. There was just a hint of chocolate, but nothing overpowering or pretentious at all. Yummy.
One more thing. The other day I saw a living creature draw its last breath and fall over dead. I thought I'd seen everything after that, but I was wrong. Here's how my fish 'n' chips came packaged:
The server told me to just dump the contents of this paper cone onto the plate. I did, but I really felt like I was desecrating a work of art when I did it.
The meal was delicious though.
Sometimes I seem to live in my own little world.
It's a lot like the real world except that it's just a little more bearable.
In my little world, I'm the one being stubborn.
In my world, it's kind of nice sometimes to get to be the mean one, even when the target of my meanness does not deserve it. Much.
Meanwhile the real world just keeps turning, oblivious to my hallucinations.
Here are some pics I took of the Fremont Street Experience last night:
(draft) A lager by any other name is still a lager, and I still don't like it. Kind of a sickly-sweet taste that I can't really describe and I don't want to drink more of it just to get a better description.
(draft) A nice beer. Not nearly as sweet as other tripels I've have. I got a subtle undertone that reminded me of smoke. There was very little head, though this may have been caused by the filthy glass. I liked it a lot, but there are a zillion better Belgians out there.
Ate dinner last night at a place called Bar Grill Saloon or maybe Grill Saloon Bar. I shit you not. The burger I had was fantastic though.
When I left Fremont Street I took a cab car automobile back to Mandalay Bay and went to this place location establishment called Burger Bar where I had the beers drinks beverages listed above.
By about midnight the time zone change had completely incapacitated me so I went to sleep.
Heard the following fortune cookie saying on TV this morning:
It is a foolish fish indeed that gets caught twice with the same bait.
If course this is just a variation on the old fool me once... saying, but since I've used a fish metaphor before I thought it was worth mentioning.
I'm sitting in my room at Mandalay Bay debating where to go tonight. So far I've got it narrowed down to Fremont Street, The Luxor, New York New York, and The Tilted Kilt at The Rio.
In other words, I haven't made up my mind at all.
I did find a place here at Mandalay Bay that serves Fat Tire and Newcastle, so I guess I won't be dying of thirst while I'm here.
Last night I had a splitting headache. A headache that overwhelmed all of the pain sensors normally associated with headaches and spilled over into my teeth and my neck.
To try to dull this pain, I went to Rich O's and had some beer. I hadn't been planning to go but then I found/realized that I didn't have to fly out until 10:30 AM.
My first beer was one I know I've had before but I couldn't find any reference to it here, so I went to RateBeer.com and copied my rating from there:
(draft) Had a head that lasted forever. Quite a bit blander than other Belgians I've enjoyed - this had a more lagerish taste to it, and no apple taste at all. Despite that I did like it though.
Next I had a couple of the new NABC Blonde Abbey beers that I wrote about the other day.
None of these helped my headache.
I wanted very badly to make a phone call or send a text message, but I didn't. I guess I should be proud of my restraint, but to even need that restraint indicates a bit of a failure on my part.
Here's the current rambling wisdom for me from Free Will Astrology:
One of the world's longest streets is Figueroa Street in Los Angeles. It runs 30 miles. In contrast, Bridge Street, a lane near my house, is about 50 yards long and connects two lengthy roads to each other. The path you're on right now, Pisces, has a metaphorical resemblance to Bridge Street. Your time on it will be brief, and it will serve as a bridge between two phases of your life story. Soon you'll turn onto a longer thoroughfare more like Figueroa. In the meantime, pay maximum attention to the sights and sounds. This leg of your journey will be short, but it will reveal clues that will be essential as you shift gears.
I can't help but wonder about the timing of this horoscope. I mean, I've got this shoe hovering in the air. I'm off to Las Vegas for a week. I don't feel like anything's really going to change with me during this week, but I guess you never know.
Perhaps I'll hit the jackpot somewhere.
Perhaps I'll meet the girl of my dreams, or at least someone to change my current dreams.
Perhaps I'll see The Grand Canyon and become so inspired that I become an artist or a tree hugger or something and move to some hippie commune.
There's lots of shit that could happen, but I doubt that anything really will.
In fact, just about the only prediction I can make with any sort of confidence is this:
I will not allow this trip to be ruined like the last one was. I'm way too irritated to let myself fall into that same bullshit loop again. Plus, it wil be warm enough that I can actually leave the hotel.
So, I'm outta here. I'll update when I can. Probably every day unless I'm on the road or out enjoying the scenery.
Been in a little bit of a rut for the last few days. I have some ideas for some good ramblings but the motivation just isn't there.
At times like this I really appreciate those readers that bother to message me.
Even the ones that keep asking that fucking question are welcomed during these lulls.
Today I spent some time having an IM conversation about risk. Specifically the fact that I don't seem to be willing to take risks. Specifically this one particular risk.
Specifically the one where I waited 39 years for something, and then did absolutely nothing about it but whine. And still I whine.
Some people read this 'blog and they expect something to happen. They expect that I'll eventually get tired of whining and actually do something. They hope that they'll come here one day and read all about some great dramatic event that, in the end, will provide some type of closure to this little story that's been dragging on.
I don't think they care what happens. It could be good. It could be bad. It could be anything as long as it's something. Something they can point to and say, "Right there. That's when everything finally came to a head. For better or worse, at least now I know what happened in the end."
I have no such expectations, and I gave up hoping some time ago. A little over a month ago.
But back to the risk.
People that think they know me, they keep telling me what a good person I am, how happy I could make someone, how lucky a girl would be to have me. The thing is, I know what I'm capable of. I know what I can and cannot put up with. Also, a risk needs a payoff, and there's just nothing there. The other end of this particular rainbow never reaches the ground.
People come here and they read about my pain and they think it can be fixed. They've seen too many movies.
I'll quote from today's conversation, with permission:
But you'll be so close! I don't see how you can just keep doing nothing. How can you be so afraid of being hurt when that's all you've been doing anyway? You'd think you'd be used to it by now. What's the risk of more pain when compared to the happiness you could gain?
My response:
People keep forgetting that this, my inaction, is not about me. I know it seems that way, and I know why it seems that way. I temper my words in my 'blog and I temper my actions in my life not to protect my own feelings, but to protect another's. I've already done enough harm.
I know how this all reads. It reads like one giant cop-out. One long drawn-out whimper from a little boy, telling tales of monsters in his closet so nobody knows that he's really just afraid to sleep alone in the dark.
I know that's what most of my readers think, and I don't blame them for thinking it.
Maybe some day, something will happen. Maybe someday this story will really end. Maybe then I'll be able to fill in the holes. Write the things that everyone already knows, and maybe some things that nobody even suspects.
Just don't hold your breath. I know I won't.
(But for now, just one thing. I did do something. I tried to open a door just a little. It got slammed in my face.)
I leave for Las Vegas in two days and I haven't done a damn thing to get ready.
I need to do laundry, I need to go grocery shopping for cat food, I need to balance my checking account, I need to pack, I need to print out my show tickets and my itineraries.
I'm sure there's more that I won't remember until I'm already on the plane.
I was supposed to be doing some of this stuff tonight, but instead I find myself connecting in to work to work on a study I've been tasked with. It's due tomorrow.
My cat dying last night didn't help my motivation then either.
So hopefully I'll be able to get all this shit done tomorrow after work and still have a short evening at Rich O's before I leave Saturday morning.
